The writer in me

So here's the deal. Siew Lean has posted her first entry in her blog, and I think it's damn good. Pulitzer prize material, I tell you. Being the smarty pants I always has been, I was thinking to myself: I can do this too. I can write GOOD.
And so, equipped with my somewhat limited vocabulari, and a larger than elephant ass ego, I'm gonna try to write something with similar grandeur. So, here goes....

Wait, before that, I must stress that the material you are going to read is like, totally original. There is not even the slightest possibility that the plot, ideas, words originated from her post. Plagiarism is despicable. All those who plagiarise should be sent straight to hell. No. They should be castrated first, then sent to hell. Ladies would have their breast removed.
So, you will not find any part of my material to even remotely resemble her entry. Totally no connection with hers, got it? GOT IT?

Ok, back to the real deal...

The sun going down adi, but not all the way down, ngam ngam halfway like playing peekaboo like that.The rumah atap all empty. All went out clubbing, or went do something naughty. Left two insan in the rumah, in the room. These two siao lang stay close close. They are baby siao lang and mother siao lang. Mother siao lang cekik the poor little baby siao lang. Juz kidding. Touching only. Baby siao lang couldnt care less. He was too busy tasting her neh neh. It's damn hot outside, so they were both sweating like hell. Both smelly like hell. Baby siao lang continue sucking her neh neh, and summore, and summore, and summore, and summore, and summore.And then, "NEXT", moved on to the other neh neh.
After the mother siao lang's reservoir is depleted, baby siao lang also chiak pao liao and went to chiak something else, chiak bantal (means sleep la, Einstein!!). Satisfied with her first experience of feeding her baby, with a sore neh neh, she went out clubbing to celebrate.

(I really want to continue the story, but I sense a tsunami of negative vibes aproaching, so I stop here....)

See. I can write a decent strory. I think mine is a lot better than hers. Don't you think? Yea. I think so too.