I feel like a story.
As in, I feel like writing a story, not the drama-llama my-life-is-a-story.
Okay, so here goes:

It was a dark and stormy Sunday morning.
The rain pelted down on the sidewalk, making quite a catchy rhythm. Cars zoomed past, their wheels splashing up water from puddles and their windscreen wipers moving to the beat of the rain. Pitter patter, pitter patter, left right, left right.
He looked out of his dorm window and sighed. It was another lonely Sunday morning, with no friends (they all went to church; he was the only non-churchgoer) and no entertainment. The rain did not show any sign that it was going to stop; it seemed to threaten to keep raining.
He was quite a good-looking person, but he had only a handful of close friends. He blamed that on the fact that his parents were free-thinkers and he couldn't go to church, and didn't see many people. He had, after all, been in a single gender school for eight years running, and had not much of a social life, seeing almost the same people walk into his classroom year after year.
Suddenly, sitting alone in the drab rectangle of tiled land they called a dorm apartment, he missed his mom. Even if it was a trail run held by the funds-hungry people in his school to convince the students that living in a dorm was healthy and led to independence. He didn't care. He wanted his mom, and fast. He couldn't stand the food in the dorm much longer. Tomorrow, he thought, this trail run is so over. I miss my mom's salmon and asparagus rolls.
He lifted his head and stared out of the window.
He shrieked when he saw what was outside the window, composed himself, and told himself guys his age did not shriek, no matter what they saw. Outside his first floor dorm window, was a huge..
Llama.
This both puzzled and scared him. A llama? It stared at him through the pane of glass, knocking its nose onto the window whenever it thought it could nose into the room. It was quite a comical sight, but the llama scared him, and for good reason. There was no human being in Singapore who didn't live near a zoo that could not be scared by a huge llama suddenly popping out of nowhere and trying to nudge its way into her/his room.
He pushed the heavy window open and peered at his visitor closely. It was neither a happy llama nor a sad llama, and he most definitely was not a super llama, nor a mentally retarded llama. It was just a normal, run-of-the-mill llama. Not that he was displeased with that. A normal llama was already scary enough, let alone a super llama. He could not imagine the llama before him, which was taking too close a look at his pencils in their holder, wearing a cape, or anything related to super-animallism.

Too tired. Will continue some other day.
CAN'T WAIT FOR INVEST! :D