The Three Little Friends in the Big Dreamy World

In the light of the moon, three little friends were drunk in happiness in DreamMall. That was a great spot for the setting of this story. What happened in DreamMall stayed in DreamMall, so everything was dreamy as real. 

Mango, Renzo, and Carlo were ready for a farewell dinner, because Renzo was returning to his motherland the coming week. It was also the end of the semester of fruitful cooperation among the three. "Farewell" and "end", both were not exactly good choices of words, for they implied some sort of sadness; in the German restaurant surrounded by Spanish music, they went nuts and wild. What was on the menu then? Me and U; all the rest did not matter at all. 

"Bier, bitte!" 

Beer could definitely open up a whole new world. One became bold and less mindful. As rhyming with Mango, Renzo, Carlo, "alcoho" became their best friend. Quickly there came a mixture of the conscious and unconscious; the past, present and emerging; language and metalanguage; meaning and beyond meaning. Topics were heated kernels in a pan, popping here and there. Mango talked about Tony's dad, a writer for he wrote a best-seller on romance. Mango read his work but disbelieved romance that sort of thing. She liked Twilight, though, so there existed sparks of romance in her mind. 

Then, Renzo said when he was a kid, his uncle got him Harry Potter and the order of Phoenix. But that kind of book wasn't his cup of tea; he read Kafka and Metamorphosis, a man transforming into a cockroach. Coincidentally, Mango and Carlo later became readers of "Renzo and the order of Renzo" because mispronouncing the word ''metamorphosis''  meant drinking beer as punishment (?). For Carlo, it was such a pleasure to go bottom up, though.  

Widow vs Weirdo 

Nonstop Topics and laughter rose. Mango narrated how the battery power of her gogoro went down because her husband did not pay attention and did not replace the batteries with fully charged ones. Then, she said something about herself being a "widow" when she actually meant "weirdo". Carlo and Renzo looked at her, worriedly thinking that it was just a bar of battery left and there was no need to end the precious life of her husband. Or was there?  

Mushroom vs Marshmallow. Salad vs Sarah. 

Mango really liked the Sarah and marshmallow served that night. Ambiguity of language was no longer a problem. It was within the norm of the society when people decide to call salad "salad" and mushroom "mushroom". In the world of "alcoho" it did not matter at all, because what was on the menu? It was "Me and U". Whatever we said so, it became so.   

Mango shared her tip on how to train Candy's determination and concentration. "Just make her do homework in a noisy bar," she said. One day, she would be the best mom of the year on the front cover of New York Times. 

G-string or Tea-string

Renzo became a man of literature. When the fake gift, dried mango, was presented to him, he looked at Mango and said he had juicy Mango in front of him. Such a man of filthy connotation. Then, the real and genuine gift is name-brand tea from Taiwan. It was not G-string but  "Tea-string", something Mango suggested sharing with his family. Well, G-string was just not something one could with his clan, whether it was made of Taiwan No. 1 or Taiwan Can Help. 

When a firm grip of language was internalized, the utterance of creativity came naturally and effortless. You doubt it? Renzo gave an analogy, "having baked potato is like having an orgasm" and he was sincerely speaking from his personal experience.  No doubt about it. 

Who would like some fucking chicken?

When the fucking chicken was served (Who gave the delicious food that name?), Renzo sacrificed his three fingers to feed Mango and Carlo, like what a dad would do for his daughters. 

"où sont les toilettes?"

Freshly and physically brewed Taiwanese and Peruvian beer in the toilettes. It stood the test of human body. Mellow beer.  

B-Box or Boob-box

Mango used her ultimate strength to interrupt Renzo and Carlo's conversation. At that frozen moment, if one did not listen to her, one would regret for the rest of his life. So there she went, "bu wa wa, bu wo bu wo bu!" They improvised a bit, employing correct movement of the right and left hands in front of the boobs. "Boob" one! 

Competition of pronunciation went on. Bad pronunciations got the three idiots more "alcoho" straight down to their stomach and veins. Pity that the "daughters" didn't have enough sets of beer to get Papi to do a gigolo show.
So what's next?
A reunion Dinner, with more sets of beer and a gigolo show. 

"Muss es sein?" 
"Es muss sein!"

Of course, "Don't imply the obvious," as Renzo put it. 

Bon voyage, Renzo!