Scribble Hub Forum

there's no menu. you order by assuming and inferring from whatever the fuck ingredients the cook has displayed on his open-air kitchen stand or whatever's on fire in his wok. it's a 50% on whether he serves drinks too.

there's a stray dog laying on the far side, her pregnant teats spilling out onto the business premises like it's nobody's business. it's eyeing your oily egg fried instant noodles like crazy. It's the best egg fried instant noodles you ever had and costs you a quarter of a McChicken.

you come back a second time, bringing your friends with you with the EXPLICIT PURPOSE to try his egg fried instant noodles again. the stall is deserted. the tables and singular chair gone. it was as if the cook was never there.

3 years down the line, you're driving down the same highway again when out of nowhere, under the blazing afternoon sky, there stood the same cook and laid the same dog under the same stall once more. you pull over, and sit on that same one chair the stall has. the dog has even fatter teats this time. you have that same egg fried instant noodle. it's somehow better than before at the same cheap price.

this time, you're intent on asking for the cook's business hours. yet, after the meal, you stopped bothering. you leave the pay on the table and drive off without a word to the cook, leaving your next meeting in the hands of Lady Luck, not knowing it's the last time you're gonna see the cook and the dog ever again.

of all the cheap dishes and expensive gourmet shit you had in your life, this is the one you remember in your death bed. just before God takes you in his bright embrace, a taste swells in your tongue.

it's that same oily egg fried instant noodle, with those little shards of eggshells grinding between your teeth. you lived a life of regrets, yet this simple memory of a cheap plate of egg fried instant noodles brings you solace as if it's a catalyst of forgiveness for all your mistakes.