Archive for May, 2013

Enter the Cube

Posted: May 1, 2013 in MiB Hates Us All

So, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything for this poor blog, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve been wasting my time throwing pencils at the ceiling rubber-end first trying to get them to stick. Nay, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time honing useless skills that could be used as potential panty-peelers. In other words, I now know how to solve a Rubik’s cube. This is the (mostly) true story of a badass and his Rubik’s cube.

I received the aforementioned cube on Saturday, a gift from my parents to thank me for not burning down the house whilst they were away for a week in Durban. They apparently thought that it would keep me busy and away from drugs and obviously did not realise that possibly the last item to give to a chronic LSD-user is a polychrome polygram – and to think they were astonished when they found me two hours later, half-naked, covered in Crayola and licking the cube screaming “I can taste the fucking rainbow!” I’m just joking. I’m more of a sharpie kind of guy.

Anyway, I solved the cube in an hour. This was the first time that I really attempted to solve the cube. It took me an hour because I sat on my bed, turning it in my hands for about 10 minutes, staring at the chaos of colour that I had just created then decided “fuck it” and went to watch Californication. It was then, as I sat smoking Popeye sherbet and viewing Hank Moody trying to keep it together while falling apart that I began thinking about coloured cubes whilst watching Californian pubes and I had what they call a “Eureka” moment. I hurried back to my room and solved the coloured conundrum – which took the apartheid government decades – in fifteen minutes. After some practice, I got my solving time to under two minutes. I was pretty pleased with myself. Then I Googled the record and felt kind of depressed.

That was Saturday. On Monday, I decided to take my new-found skills to the streets of Wits, because that’s where the juicy crux of this sordid story really happens. That’s what I love about Wits – the varsity culture and, more appropriate to this story, the diversity. I’ve seen people on campus that have beards and kurtas the Taliban would whip women to get their hands on stride happily alongside black hippies that look like they spend the bulk of their days frequenting the Caribbean part of campus. It’s something amazing, it truly is. Also, I’d like to point out that Wits lives up to its slogan of “giving you the edge” because there is no fucking 3G whatsoever to be found anywhere on campus.

Anyway, I unholstered my cube and bid my best friend jumble it to the best of her ability, which she did. Then I basked in the oohs and ahs as I solved the puzzle in a couple of minutes, to the scintillating background music of my other best friend’s harmonica (I have several best friends. To qualify they have to endure a Hell Week not unlike the Navy SEALs after which they attain Nirvana as well as my eternal friendship and the top spots on my mocking list). After the third instance of this incredible musical-accompaniment solving happening, the first best friend threatened to break both the cube and the harmonica and “cut off your balls and staple them to your foreheads so everybody can see what dicks you are.” She’s feisty like that. We stopped.

My horde of best friends left me to either go to lunch or lectures or something – I can’t exactly remember, mainly due to what happened next.

What happened next is that I was approached by an obese Chinese guy with a hairy face and even hairier teeth whom I shall refer to as Jeff Chang the Cubemaster, because that’s what he introduced himself as. Like I said, we get all kinds of them at Wits. Also, we have a fucking Jeff Chang at Wits. What now, UCT? How this guy still has to pay for drinks is beyond me, as surely anyone who meets him wants to get him fucked out of his mind just so that they can say they really did throw Jeff Chang off a roof. Hell, I don’t even drink and I wanted to get him sloshed just so I could tell him to “get down” and see what he does. His pariahment is probably due to the various condiment stains that seemed to be perpetually peppering his shirt. The guy looked like a week old pizza from Panarottis.

Jeff Chang: Salutations, fellow cuber.

[He extends his hand in greeting and does some weird finger contortions with his other hand to produce some sort of symbol. He looks at me as if expecting me to do the same.]

MiB: That’s my cue. Cheers.

Jeff Chang: No, wait! I am Jeff Chang the Cubemaster. It is an honour to meet a fellow cuber. And you are?

MiB [astonished]: I’m MiB. Your name is Jeff Chang?

Jeff Chang: Yes.

MiB: Don’t fuck with me man. Jeff fucking Chang?

Jeff Chang: Well, it’s actually Jeff Youchen Chang III

MiB: The Third!?! You mean there were two Jeff Changs before you???

Jeff Chang [now looking at me as if I’m slightly retarded]: Yes… that is what “the Third” means…

MiB: Dude. It’s an honour to meet you.

[I extend my hand to shake his in greeting, then immediately recoil because his palm feels as if he was giving an eel a handjob]

Jeff Chang [now trying to make polite conversation]: Is that a Rubik’s cube you’re holding there?

[Still stunned at meeting Jeff Chang, I look down at what is obviously a Rubik’s Cube in my hand. He can see that it’s a Rubik’s Cube. I can see that it’s a Rubik’s cube. The fake deaf guy that wanders around Wits and that is rapidly approaching us can see that it’s a Rubik’s Cube. I feel as if I should show some respect to him by virtue of his namesake, but the sardonic savage within me cannot help himself]

MiB: Obviously, you’re not a bowler.

Jeff Chang: Good one, fellow cuber!

[He laughs heartily. I stare, mystified]

Jeff Chang: Anyway, I saw you solving the cube whilst I was staring at you from behind that tree over there. Do you mind if I have a try at the cube?

MiB [still utterly unsure of just what the fuck is going on here]: Sure man, it’s all yours…

Jeff Chang takes the cube. He examines it carefully, handling it as one would handle a new-born ostrich. He taps the edges lightly. He holds it up to the sunlight, squinting as if he can see through it. He sniffs it. I stare at him, transfixed. The fake deaf guy comes ever closer.

Jeff Chang: Ah, she’s a beauty.

Then he solves it in about half a minute. Thirty seconds. I shit you not. His hands whir over the cube at the speed of Caster, and then he stops and the cube is solved. My jaw drops. The fake deaf guy seizes his chance and motions to me for money. Still dazed, I pull out R10 and give it to him. The fake deaf guy nods solemnly in thanks and walks off, then answers his phone as it rings “Hips Don’t Lie” with a hearty “Heita!”

Jeff Chang [smiling at me]: It’s an art, no? Welcome to the Brotherhood.

MiB: What the what the?

Jeff Chang: Well, you’re a cuber now. You’re one of us now.

MiB: Us?

Jeff Chang [slightly annoyed that I’m not cottoning on]: Yes, the Brotherhood of Cubers. Or, as we are less commonly known, the Fraternity of F2L

MiB: Right…

Jeff Chang: As a cuber, you will have to subscribe to several rules, or, as we call it, the Cuber’s Creed. You will have to cut off all ties with non-cubers, unfortunately. They cannot be trusted with the secrets of the cube. But fear not, for our brothers are devoted to each other and we even have two sisters, too.

[He winks surreptitiously at me. Words fail me.]

Jeff Chang: You will also have to sand your cube regularly to keep it in optimum working condition. Every time you drop the cube, you have to kiss it. Should the stickers ever come off, you are required to replace them with absolute haste. The cube is your life from now on, your One Ring, your Holy Grail. Also, you’re gonna have to brand yourself to prove your allegiance to the Cube.

[He pulls up his Something Meaty of a shirt and exposes his right G-Cup of a breast, which has a Rubik’s Cube tattooed onto it with his thimble of a nipple in the heart of the centre cube. I will never forget this sight. My children will never forget this sight. This utterly horrendous image has been immolated onto each cell of my body, including my sperm. I would retch while writing about it but there is no bile left in my body]

After I swallow the Kara Nicha’s chip sandwich I had that morning for the second time, I look at Jeff Chang and begin to feel something that can only be described as a nuclear fusion of rage and disgust and a bit of anti-Asianness thrown in for good measure. I’m a mushroom cloud about to lay motherfucker, motherfucker.

MiB: Are you out of your fucking mind, Jeff Chang?!?

Now it’s Jeff Chang’s turn to look astonished. The smile slips off his face and joins everything else on his shirt.

Jeff Chang: What?

MiB: I’m sorry, are your ears fat too? I don’t want to join your damn creed, Chubby Chan. Holy cuntmuffin, this cultic shit is like something out of a hentai video. I bet as soon as I get to your CubeQuarters you guys break out the tentacle rape, no?

Jeff Chang [visibly inflating with anger himself, if that is possible]: How dare you speak to a CubeMaster like that?!?

MiB: CubeMaster? More like PubeMaster. I bet you have a fucking grizzly bear surrounding your enlarged clit down there, never mind a teddy bear, Jizz Chang. I mean, look at yourself, motherfucker. I bet your favourite Disney princess was Dumbo.

Jeff Chang [now visibly affronted]: You don’t deserve to solve the Cube! You don’t even deserve to lay your unworthy fingers upon the glory of the Cube!

MiB: You don’t deserve to be alive, Fat Lee. It’s a fucking miracle that your heart hasn’t kamikazed itself in an attempt to salvage some honour as an Asian’s organ.

Jeff Chang [forcibly calming himself]: I understand your shock and distress at being invited into the Brotherhood. It is a life-changing experience indeed. I shall ask you one more time. Is there no way you will accept my offer?

MiB: Impossibru!

His face darkens and he storms off, muttering something about my eternal perishing at the Hand of Rubik and plopping along until he was out of sight, which took quite a while. I spied the fake deaf guy heading for me once more, and hastily walked away.

[I’d just like to put in a word here about the Harmonica Rockstar. He’s a fucking legend. He asked me if I had a harmonica lying around at home and when I replied in the affirmative, he humbly asked if he could borrow it. Having bought the instrument in a 1 Riyal shop in Saudi, I promptly gifted it to him, earning his devoted gratitude and the simultaneous devoted hatred of everyone else. Everyone hates the wretched instrument. I love it. Mainly because they hate it. But also because he’s a fucking beast on it, and has already composed his own two singles – “Happy Cowboys” and “The Jailbreak”. I swore to him that we were going to create a fully-fledged album one day so that we can unleash his harmonic harmonies unto the world. Watch this space.]  

[Also, subscribe to the blog. Just type your email address in on the left-hand side of your screen in the box that says “Enter email address”. It’s pretty self-explanatory. It takes less effort than solving a Rubik’s cube or purging your mind of Jeff Chang’s nipple, I promise] 

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