<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d7326748\x26blogName\x3dA+Meow\x27s+Purr\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://katsmew.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://katsmew.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-3792757944045533355', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe", messageHandlersFilter: gapi.iframes.CROSS_ORIGIN_IFRAMES_FILTER, messageHandlers: { 'blogger-ping': function() {} } }); } }); </script>
Thursday, June 17, 2004

Spitfire

Back in the peaceful days right after World War II, in the Land Below the Wind, there was a group of young people. Now this group of young people they get to know a bunch of young australian soldiers.

Since the war was over and there wasn't much soldiering to do, during weekends these bunch of young people went dancing with the soldiers which was pretty much the very IN thing to do. Now amongst this group there was a very pretty young lady whom was given the nickname Spitfire by these australian soldiers. I haven't the faintest clue as to why she was nicknamed so...could be due to her temper. Spitfire speak minimum english and doesn't know how to dance. She tagged along anyway just so she can enjoy the music.

At the dance, everybody were dancing and having a good time. I believe during that time, they would do the quicksteps, foxtrot, etc..i'm no dance expert. So one guy by the name of Toby asked Spitfire for dance...Spitfire who doesn't know how, of course declined. So a disappointed Toby went looking for another partner.

In order to avoid more invitations to dance, Spitfire tried to blend in to the wall to be a part of the Wallpaper...so she silently walk to a nearby wall. Before she reach her intended destination, she happened to walk passed a drunken soldier. This soldier just grab her by the hand and pulled her into the dance floor!

This drunken guy, either he was so far out or he was one heck of a jitterbug, twirl Spitfire around the dance floor. Spitfire who can't dance was now dancing all over the dance floor. They were so good that everybody stopped to watch them. I guessed they were even better than Fred Astaire and John Travolta...that when the dance finally ended there was thunderous applause! The organizer, i think, was so impressed that he awarded a bottle of whiskey to the jitterbug soldier and a bottle of perfume for Spitfire.

Note: If u have 2 left feet and don't know how to dance, nevermind, all you have to do is get yourself a drunken guy and you will sure win a dance competition!

*Spitfire - fighter aircraft used during World War II. In this story, Spitfire is none other than my dear old mama!

4 Comments:

Blogger graceshu said...

wah your mom also very keng ah!

5:33 PM  
Blogger katsmew said...

haha, guess that's how the nickname came by, kua.

9:43 PM  
Blogger oliviasy said...

woohoo! yr got one hot momma! such sweet memories :)

10:13 AM  
Blogger katsmew said...

that's one of the reason i blog! i wanna keep a record of my ma's stories for my kids!

2:43 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home