Meet Alex Tomok "Flip-Flop Poppy" Oates: the Everybody Man


The person who seems to know everyone, and everybody seems to feel the same way too, but what they don't know is that of the fact that they actually do NOT know the true him, heck, he doesn't even seem to understand himself, know himself, and his insecurities, as it all seems like a blur to him, a mirage of an apparition trapped in this callous state of being, hundreds of billions of uncountable atoms woven together to represent this..this unworthy object which has this ability to cry, snigger, crawl, beg for mercy, yearn for love, desire to live.

He likes to think that he is a simple man with a simple life and simple demeanour, but this intricately assembled state of consciousness doesnt allow him to react in such a manner,leaving him bemused, neurotic, cursing incessently at himself while he sleeps a million slumbers every cold, hard night. "Dumbfuck! Dumbfuck! Wake up, will you!".

Abstract kaleidescope of illusions often greet him in the wee hours of the morning, as he tries his best not to fall asleep and incur the wrath of the master of puppets; that is "Mr-I-Wanna-Make-You-Happy-For-AWhile-By-Dreaming", (Aka Mr Toaster Face). Mr Toaster face would connivingly try his utmost to try and decieve this honest little insecure boy every single night, by at first beckoning him and inviting him to an innocent game of marbles, but who would inadvertantly destroy the innocence of youth by deluding him with visions of grandeur and ravishing making-out romps, only for him to wake up and realize that it is all a lie, a staged play of deceit , which nevertheless baffled him and kept his idle mind busy as he decided upon the various possiblities of avoiding the monster and never to see his "Toaster Face" ever again.

Oates would often get in and out of different moods in the whim of a second, a flicker of a switch, a flutter of a butterfly; he would feel euphoric and in the next moment be thrown back to the stony gravel of reality, it piercing through his confidence like a stake deliriously driven through a putrid dead carcass. He smiles at the pretentiousness of self, constantly at odds with that alter-ego of his who compels him to become a hypocrite of sorts, a liar masked as a sweet-looking young man who doesn't hesitate to lend a helping hand for a good cause, albeit with hidden intentions. Behind his happiness, hides this festering swab of a wound, infested by maggots, parasites of every kind, savouring the foul-tasting heavenly meat of desire, reminding him of his favourite dish of that steaming pot of sup kambing, with roti perancis to boot.

Ahhh... how would he love to learn how it feels like to be free from inhibitions, the endless chatterings of castrated monkeys in his mind, and away from the screams of a rhinocerous as it gives birth to an amazingly cute chubby little baby boy. He would sell his soul to the Devil just to have the chance to roar! like a lion, keep an identical mane and prowl the gardens of Africa, but alas, he is trapped in the crevices of his own cramped mind, devoid of sunlight and the trappings of life that come with it.

Even, though, everymorning, Mr Alex Tomok "Flip-flop Poppy" Oates would tie his laces, carry his bag, and set off into this brand new world with that everlasting smile plastered perpetually on his face, just in case people find out about his actual insecurities if he doesn't do so.

Oates is pleasantly contented with his life, he has everything to look forward to, especially the day when it dawns upon him that this act is only transient, and that he is just a mere statistic which would return as a part of the ecosystem of the soil when the time comes.

Ho-hum. Mr Oates is definitely everyone's favourite Everybody's Man, isn't he?

Just like everyone else.



Rant 12:29 PM of Azmie
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