The House in the Middle of Sawah

Raw bogem

After my argument with Erni, I chose to sleep on the sofa in the middle of the radio studio. Actually I don't have a clock today, but I'm lazy to go home. Krisna who finished the broadcast approached me who might indeed look upset.

"What's up broohh? Your face is like a vegetable forgotten to be heated", Krisna cengengesan. I scrunched my forehead.

"Mambu you mean?", I don't understand the expression.

"Ho'oh, unsightly, let alone tasted", Krishna chuckled, taking a seat next to me.

"Have you eaten the ballom?", Krishna asked again. I'm shaking.

"Here, this. .this is, if you do not want to eat, it must be a matter of the heart. Because it has become a formula, when the affairs of the heart are problematic, humans will forget the affairs of the stomach", Krishna mangosteen, admiring his own theory. This one human is indeed strange.

"Sotoy luuu", I answered getting up from where I slept.

"Sotoy lamongan, mantaabbb", Krishna lifted his thumb. I just shake my head, males responded.

"Mbok critao brooh, ono opo?", Krisna took the gum from her backpack and thrust it at me. I took it and ate it.

"The girl's mouth, au ah puyeng", I answered scratching my back head, completely itching.

"Cepet back there, what's the matter here? Bother people", I told Krishna to leave.

"Huuu, I'm still waiting for the broadcast schedule after me, has not come that you know", Krishna pointed to the broadcasting room that is still empty.

"Who's the schedule?", I asked, blowing gum in my mouth, seconds later erupting. Thock!

"Bak Amel is like her", Krishna looks at her watch.

From the direction of the outside door looks hijab girl running in a row. Amelia Safitri, a girl broadcaster who has broken the record always comes late in her broadcast.

"Basar Puteri late of the year", Krisna nagged with her slightly trembling gestures. I smiled a little at him.

The sound of motor sport entering the studio parking area. Who is it, if from the sound, the bike must be cool. A moment later appeared Iwan entered the room without permission. Looks impatient and excited like the arrival of Amel earlier.

"Hey hey, who is it, maen entered without permission", Krisna ruffled waist to rebuke Iwan.

"Sir Iwan?", I don't know why Iwan came to the studio, stood up and was about to approach him.

Suddenly without any "kulonuwun" before, a very hard fist hit my left cheek. I fell on the floor. Iwan immediately hit me, and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. I don't understand what's going on just holding my cheek. The corner of my lips felt rancid, blood must have dripped from there. While Krishna just fell silent.

"Suckers! What are you doing, Erni? Where's Erni?", Iwan growled, looking from the glare of his sharp eyes, he was really angry. (Yaiyalah really angry, my cheeks are really sharp).

"Is this Wan? I don't know", I don't know what to say.

"Don't lie to you! Earlier, someone saw you with Erni on campus. He made a deal with me, but I waited two hours for him not to come. I called no answer either. Now answer me! Where's Erni?", Iwan asked while once again one two three four punches drifted towards me. I was only able to cross my arms to protect my face so Iwan's punching bag.

Krishna this time helped me, forcefully pulling Iwan, separating this unbalanced fight.

Amel came out of the broadcasting room and helped me stand up. Krishna was still holding Iwan who still looked very lustful to beat me up. I wiped the blood on the corner of my lips using the back of my hand.

"Wan, I really don't know anything. I had nothing with Ernie. And I don't know where Erni is right now", I tried to give an explanation to Iwan, my breath still stinged.

"That's you know, your ears are horrified. Do not play aja, my friend battered anyway", Krisna ngomel still hold i Iwan. He is strong too. Iwan just shut up. Still looks pretty angry.

"Heh, go you, before you don't call the cops!", this time Amel's bluffing Iwan. Iwan released Krishna's grip and immediately walked out without a word. Moments later there was the sound of the exhaust of the sport motor roaring like a cry of anger of its master.