PRESIDENT JEANNIE  

It was a normal sunny day on campus, and the hearts of the counselors were stirring in ecstasy from the previous night's orgy. The fat despicable counselor who remained forever, the president of the Arts Club, sat in all her finery in the throne and the world at her feet. Decked in ridiculous costumery that even Najip Ali would have laughed at, she eyed everyone with a quiet confidence that had in fact sprang from a deep insecurity about herself. 

2 moments ago, a speech had been made to the entire cohort of people, a major event to note in their calendar. She, being the president had been invited to make that speech. Behold her finely prepared words, the depth of eloquence of her tongue, and the right kind of body language to sway the crowd. She had it all; the qualities I mean, as listed alphabetically and chronicled by the book she kept jealously from prying eyes " Public speaking to win friends ". Indeed her ploy would have worked had not she lacked the one ingredient that the book so clearly labeled. Sincerity. She lacked it and she didn’t even know the extent to the problem. But she went on anyway. The book had actually been written for people who understood the paradox in the first place. People who knew how to look at situations inside out with a soul for understanding. Unfortunately for her, her opening words had already begun to loosen to limbs of the audience. 2 sentences later, talking could be heard in small volumes at the front of the auditorium. In yet a few more sentences, this started to grow louder, and yet even louder, till her confident eyes started to betray her and revealed the anger to which she had always proclaimed her birthright. Fiery flashes lit up her demon eyes and her words quivered in the lack of conviction that did not exist in the first place. Her cloaked dagger had now burst open in full force. But then Decorum demanded that she could not come down from the stage to chide the chattering boys. She had to finish that damn speech first. Cutting it as thinly as her ego could allow her, she ended it. Then from where she was, she jumped off, and proceeded with a grumbling. Then a stream of verbal abuse poured forth from her mouth that shook the floor and thundered the clothes from their lines,

 "You, you, you and you, get right here! As the president, you must show respect for me by keeping quiet as I speak. But you didn't. Shout shout and more shout. You are idiots and useless incompetents."

 This went on, till the esteemed members of the main committee, the sub committee, and the sub sub committee, followed by the triple sub committee, were shivering in their own urine. Such obnoxious behavior that no president had yet revealed. Some thought that power was given so that good could be done, then those some remembered that their ambitions in the first place were to win the presidency for that right to abuse the "power".

 "You won it fair and square bitch." Thought an unfairly maligned committee member.

 Her words rang through the heads of everyone around. Used as they were to these frequent and yet violent outbursts, everyone waited for that moment when the anger would subside and the fury of the presidency steamed abated. No use as they say, this one was keen on letting it going,

 "And as a punishment. You must cheer for me."

CHEER (insert you own mind-numbing, copied hackneyed one here)

 The team were in the midst of preparing a camp for the gullible members of the Arts faculty. Everything had to be perfect, and seem professional. Didn’t have to be professional, just seem it. So doorgifts were prepared, a list of sponsors where persuaded and fondled over as it had always been done in the past by the various coms. (Degenerate name for committees). Among the gifts that were somehow snared were the usual pieces of stationary, an obsolete audio tape with an unpopular artiste (in the age of digital music and CD's), various professed discount cards, BRAND's essence of chicken, Papaya milk packet drink, and topped off with a 3 month old copy of TIME magazine. Just something the sponsors thought to shut the mouths of the irritating committees that came by their door every month or so with such requests.

 And then another important aspect of the camp was to parcel out each person's role and duties, along with the various euphemisms that would go with them.

 "You are assistant to welfare com with 2^nd class level access."

 Ah yes, everyone had that long title to impress his or her family members with. The good titles however were those that had only one word only in them like "President" or "Secretary" or "Treasurer". These denoted a rank and station so high that the rest couldn’t even speak to you unless they had filled out the proper forms. SO it was this that our President Jeannie had climbed to and achieved, a pinnacle that would forever be etched in that plaque that hung on the wall of the Arts clubroom in the list of past Presidents. Jeannie often imagined the sight of that name on the Plaque, and hoped that her power would be enough to choose a font big enough to eclipse the other names on it. Sometimes she hung around the computer looking at the various fonts that Microsoft Word was capable of to see which would show off her name in the best light. Jeannie or Jeannie or Jeannie. She just couldn't decide which and at what size. This continued to occupy her mind…. Of course until the endless meetings with her various coms were over. Which in effect gave her 2 minutes to think about it. Which is quite long considering that she hadn't even had time for her triple triple sub sub com concerned with toilet paper, and various others. They just couldn't decide what brand to buy after various tests on the butts of their committee members.

The day had opened with a sunny exuberance that surprised many people who were expecting rain. Some however, the TCS prophecy came through and the sky thundered forth the water that everyone had expected. Campers lined the path from the bus stop to the Hall that they were supposed to meet at, guided along the way by the GUARDIANS.

It was a comparatively good turnout. But still the gendar ratio left much to be desired. It was always the case that the Arts camp meant that the girls would be taking a longest time in the bathroom simply because there were more of them. The men or "GUYS" as they were normally called numbered some 10% of the total. Maybe even less, but who knew with the kind of chaos that was traditionally associated with the Arts Club.

 Still Jeannie felt good; she felt the inviting smell of clean bodies that would by her very power be covered in the vile crust of mud at NUS. Her time had come and no one else but she would savour the best of it. But there was an itch on her toe that disturbed her, for the itch had the uncanny ability to constantly remind her of the dream she had had the previous night where one such gullibility who would potentially ruin her fun was Adi. Within her smoke filled brain, the vision of Adi slowly appeared and he stood standing at the corridor close to one of the "stations", which had been planned to allow the campers to play their silly and mindless games. Then this Adi did the undoable; he went up to a nearby public phone and starting dialing. Indeed it was a travesty to her and to mankind that he would be doing that (Strange when you consider the fact that Singapore Telecom was one of the sponsors of the camp). When his deed was done she called out.

 Jeannie: ADI! Come here I need to speak to you.

 Adi: Yes, what is it?

 Jeannie: You are not allowed to make unauthorized phone calls. You must always stick with your group; you can't wander around by yourself. You need permission to do this, then that and everything. And eat, shit or whatever when I tell you.

Adi: But didn't you know that I am booking out today?

Jeannie: Coming back?

Adi: No

Jeannie: Then you have to meet #$%&^, and sign the release form, then counter super quadruple duper sign with your OGL, then with myself, then with that irrelevant committee member standing over there just to make him feel useful. In this camp you have to abide by the rules we set and blah blah blah,

She knew she had done it and her heart was pulsating with a pride that she had never felt before, it went so far ahead of her previous record breaking experience (when she had gotten her presidency), that she knew she had to celebrate. Then she woke up! A dream she knew never did bode well, not since she was so well versed with the experience of Chauntecleer, her favorite cock.

With this knowledge and the foreboding that something would become amiss, her heart struck down the excesses of self confidence that she had built up since she had bought "Mega Memory" from Sellavision.