Love Song

I’ve always suffered the unfortunate circumstance of being both romantically inclined and challenged. Like the emotional equivalent of William Hung, I long to sing, knowing I can’t and so I end up bumbling awkwardly through a verse or two of love, never quite making it to the chorus.

My most recent debacle wasn’t even supposed to happen. I wasn’t looking. Didn’t want any part of it actually. But a friendship formed and danced on the cusp of becoming something more. But like I said, I’m armed with two left feet and so we predictably tripped into the proverbial punch bowl.

The evening ended, the band packed up, and the house lights dimmed on the hope I had of starting something new and forgetting something old.

People speak of the famous 15 minutes like it’s a bad thing. Me, I’m jealous of that ballsy Chinaman. At least he felt the warmth of the spotlight…if only for a moment.

The Incredible Melvin and his Faithful Side-kick, Vito “the Aggravated Expat” Devito - The “Case” of the Secret Sauce

Tuesdays are notoriously slow crime days in Singapore. Well, every day is slow, but Tuesdays, boy they can really depress the average crime fighter. Luckily, our heroes are equipped with an Amway-like optimism and a utility belt full of time killing skills. We join them now in the kitchen, where the duo are, well….making dinner.

**********

“Vito, how can you possibly say that the Italians invented noodles? Asians have been slurping them for like a bazillian years.”

Devito tapped his wooden spoon on the edge of the pot, sampled the tomato sauce, and looked up at our hero like he just tried to peel an apple with a tire iron. “I didn’t say noodles, Mel. I said spaghetti and what makes spaghetti spaghetti is the friggin’ spaghetti sauce. You got me?”

The Incredible one sighed, rolled his eyes, and adjusted the knob on his black market police scanner.

“Leave it,” said Devito. “It’s Tuesday. Nothing ever happens on Tuesdays.”

“But there could be a…”

“There won’t.”

“But what if…”

“Never does.”

“Well, how about one of those…”

Vito brandished his spoon in deadly grandmother-like fashion, halting the endless back and forth. “Mel, you’ve gotta let it go. We had that gum-chewer last week. What more do you want?”

Melvin walked to the window and glanced at the emerging stars. “I want action, adventure, and a chance to be taken seriously in the superhero community.”

“You’re shitting me? Your deadliest power is the use of an exclamation point. I know florists back home who could throw you a beatin’.”

Melvin wrinkled his face and shot a stern look at his sidekick (another truly amazing power). “Do you realize your initials are V.D.? Must make you popular with the ladies. What is your sister’s name, Sarah Teresa Devito?”

“Laugh it up chuckle head.” Vito made a couple of plates, grabbed a pair of beers from the fridge, and walked to the table.

“Eat up. Deepavali* is Saturday. Maybe we’ll get some kuckleheads using real oil lamps. That has to be against some city ordinance.”

Melvin smiled and dug into the meal. “You’re like a ray of sunshine buddy.”

“Anytime.”

Author’s note: *Deepavali, also known as the festival of lights, is a Hindu holiday. They light oil lamps in their homes to thanks the gods for the happiness, knowledge, peace and wealth they have received. The Hindus consider Deepavali one of the most important festivals to celebrate.

T.I.M. - A Hero is Born

It seemed like a normal Thursday evening commute – cluttered streets, backed-up busses, and this lone Caucasian bopping in time to the IPod offered rhythms of Natalie, a gorgeous Spanish-American R&B artist you haven’t listened to, but should. Yeah, I blend.

Now Orchard Road is always a circus, but never more so than just before dusk. Street performers, upward gazing tourists, and a sea of slow-moving locals collectively conspire to stifle my progress. It’s amazing how quickly I’ve transplanted my New Yorker-ness to the Singapore streets. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of things to do tonight buddy and waiting for you ain’t one of them. Let’s move it.” I don’t actually say that of course, but I think it real loud as I blast through the crowd and onto a less populated side road.

That’s where it happened. I was standing on the corner, furiously pressing the crosswalk button, willing the light to change, when suddenly this madman had the audacity to attempt a heinous crime. Yes, unthinkable as it sounds, this dastardly criminal intended to Jay walk. I was stunned, my new Asian sensibilities astounded. After all, such an act constitutes a kaleidoscope of felonies or so I’ve been told.

But then, just when I thought all was lost, this man... this remarkable man of mystery, stepped from the shadows and cried out, (Actually it was much more of a subtle, pleasant inquiry) causing the evil-doer to rethink his actions and step back to the curb. Disaster avoided. Oh joy!

I had to know the identity of this hero. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t wearing a mask or some groovy spectacles, but we hadn’t been formally introduced and that sort of thing is expected here. So, like a giddy schoolgirl I boldly asked for the savior’s name. He hesitated a moment, but then raised a knowing eyebrow in hero-like fashion and said, “Melvin. They call me The Incredible Melvin.” I nearly fainted when his counterpart, clearly a trusted sidekick, said and I shit you not, “Let’s go Mel, it’s getting dark and there’s work to be done.”

Oh why didn't I have my camera?

Author’s Note: I didn’t realize Singapore had a superhero. Most cities do, but S’pore? It’s like the safest place on Earth. Still, like the MRT adverts advise: “Low crime does not mean no crime.” Well, underachieving criminals beware because T.I.M. is out there and he is on the case. I’ll be watching Melvin, you beautiful, magnanimous bastard. I’ll be watching and faithfully documenting your adventures as they unfold. The world deserves nothing less.