Pantasy

"What do you want?"

We're smoking again, me and Nate. It has become a social thing between me and my housemates; I have become the very definition of a 'social smoker'.

It was a relatively cool night, the air resting softly, basking in the after-rain atmosphere. The neighbours lights weave their way through our front gates, carving in its path a beautiful, illuminating play of light and shadow.

"Hmm," he thought out loud, taking another drag. "That's a good question."

I had asked him of what other race would he like his wife to be. "Let's say, for example, that you want your kid to be mixed. You want them to have that Pan-Asian look," I had asked earlier. "I mean, you know that mixed kids are considered to be more beautiful. And beauty gets you ahead here in Malaysia. Easier to get jobs, easier to get money through modelling or whatever, easier to even be on TV and be famous, if they wish. So if you can pick another race to mix with, any race, what would it be?"

A flash of mischief lit up his face. "I'll take a German," he smiled. A pause, letting the thought linger in the air. "Yes, definitely a German."

"A German," I echoed mindlessly, trying to picture Nate with his half Chinese, half German kid. "Not bad, not bad at all."

"What about you?" he turned the tables, waiting for me to inhale, and then exhale the nicotine. "Spanish," came the answer, as quickly as the question came. "But," I hesitated, thinking about it a bit more. "Actually, I don't know. I think someone Scandinavian might also make a good mix."

"True also," he nodded. "I hear that they have a big appetite for sex over there."

"They're white, mate," I answered, flicking the ash to the ground, before throwing the filter and stamping it with my slipper's sole. "They have a big appetite for sex everywhere."

"Not true also. I think that black people might be more voracious."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Like a homeless, hungry man at a buffet."

"Well, maybe it's a human being thing."

"Yeah, but I think others want to do it more than others."

"Hmm."

Pause.

"I've never seen a Malay guy with a white girl," I said suddenly, somewhat off topic.

"Really?" he asked. "There must be a few."

"No," I insisted. "I've seen lots of Malay girls with white guys, but the reverse is...well, I've never seen it. Never even heard about it."

"Hmm," he said. Inhale. "Maybe it's because they want a bigger dick. I don't think yours matches those I've seen in porn," he smiled.

"Yeah, if only you knew, mate," I feebly defended myself. "But their money is bigger. Maybe it's a money thing."

"Maybe it's a confidence thing," he ventured, throwing the stub to the ground.

"Well, I'm confident," I said, before walking closer to the gate, to the outside world. Spreading my arms, I shouted. "I'm confident, I know what I want, I know how to get it! I am confident!"

"Well, that's arrogant," he countered. Pause. "And you still have a small dick."

"Hmm."