I stood by the door frame, leaning a little, eyes squinting hard, trying to understand what I was seeing in front of me.
Is that, what I think it is?
I could not comprehend what I was seeing then. It was perhaps, too out of this world. I know when it comes to this particular dude, nothing is impossible, but even this, for the bizarrest dipshit on earth, is pretty jarring.
I tried to say something, anything to break the scene but it seemed like my voice had decided to not join in the macabre.
That was perhaps the craziest shit I have seen in a long while.
Right smack in the middle of a bong clouded room was Dabi; in a torn spandex top, an askew bowtie and denim cutoffs; on his back, arms outstretched, whole body splattered with paint that was dripping heavily from the ceiling and walls.
On the window was his pet kitty, Ajak, shivering scared, eyes red and stoned, looking very much like a Pollock's version of the Cheshire cat.
"Cara paling senang aku nak siapkan painting ni, is just blew the mothafokka paints dengan mercun. Boom! Dah siap!" he said, a dazed grin on his face.
And he lied there, eyes transfixed to the ceiling for what was perhaps the awkwardest 5 silent minutes of my life, before walking out from the room into the kitchen and brewing himself a cup of green tea, leaving nasty (and most probably hard to wash acrylic) footprints on the floor.
At the corner of the warzone stood a framed canvas on easel, barely touched by any paint.
Freakin' crazy shit, I tell ya.