There was no divine intervention

Balut looked at Lip.

Lip looked at me.

I look down at my plate of teppanyaki and moved a piece of beef around the hot plate.

“It’s very simple,” Lip said. “If you go, I will go. If I go, Balut will go. Then Toi will come as well. And we will all go out, get pissed and have a smashing good time.”

“But that means we won’t be making it for the run tomorrow morning. I told everyone that I came to KL for it. How do I explain myself when I go back?” I cried.

“Well, no one need to know. We already collected our numbers and T-shirts anyway. You have proof if anyone asked,” Balut adds.

I stab a piece of beef with my fork and pop it in my mouth. As I masticate the chewy sirloin, I glance at their faces. Lip’s rubber face is twitching with mock excitement. Balut is giving me the “you-know-you-want-it” eye.

So, do I go partying tonight or go for the race the next morning? To be good, or not to be good - that is the question.

A night of debauchery and getting absolutely smashed in the face and waking up with no recollection sounds good. After all, it has been a long week and nothing like a good night of hedonistic indulgence to reward oneself.

Besides, I haven’t been training and waking up at 5.30am is such a chore. I never really liked running anyway. I’m doing this because….. see I don’t even remember the reason why!

“Ok, here’s the deal”, I said. “If Toi calls before end of this dinner and mention the word ‘p-a-r-t-y’, then we must take it as DIVINE INTERVENTION and we will go straight to the clubs, no question ask.”

The two of them nod in agreement.

We wait.

Toi did call.

“Oi, what time are you guys coming home? We have to wake up at bloody 5.30am you know!!”