By the third day, Ray had cleverly figured out a way to print more notes nightly and yet still catch up on his sleep. He would leave the printer on for the night to print one side, and then flip every sheet over the next night to print the other side.

It worked perfectly well. All he needed to do was sleep a little later than his wife, and wake up before her to hide the printed notes.

Using this method, he was able to print 450 over 2 nights (his printer could only fit in 1 ream of paper at a time). That worked out to RM225 per night, which was RM59 better than the first night he did it manually.

All while maintaining a relatively healthy schedule of sleeping at 2am and waking up at 6.30am (his wife slept at 12am and usually woke up 7-ish). He needed to stay up late, as it took a fair bit of time to cut the printed notes. However, cutting was needed only on alternate nights. Otherwise, all he only had to load in the paper and clock in to bed at 12.30am.

After a month of madness, he sat down bleary-eyed to count his earnings.

MONTH 1 RESULTS
Printed: RM6624
Spent (Printer ink, paper): RM320
Profit: RM6304

"Six thousand and three hundred!" Ray could hardly contain himself. "That's even more than what I make!"

He kept counting again to make sure. Ah, the sweet, sweet smell of accomplishment. And money.

Now, he had to plan ahead. This golden goose needed to work overtime.

*****

"Another printer? What on earth for?" Ray's wife was in a fit upon seeing a brand-new printer beside their old one.

"I told you I need it. Anyway, I paid for it myself okay?"

"Are you mad or something? I've never even seen you use it. And now you buy a second one!"

He pretended not to hear her.

"You're hopeless with money."

He couldn't let petty squabbles get into his head. He was already setting his sights on a cutting machine.

*****

Soon another month passed.

"Yes!" Ray put his pen down on the final amount.

MONTH 2 RESULTS
Printed: RM16428
Spent (Printer, printer ink, cutting machine, paper): RM2040
Profit: RM14388

"Well, who's hopeless with money now, huh?" he mocked his wife in his head.

Speaking of which, he hadn't spoken to her in over a week. Not out of choice, but necessity. At the same time, his boss had issued him two warning letters for being late to work. Social life was also pretty much a thing of the past.

But none of it mattered, for he was RICH! Legitimately filthy rich.

And there was going to be more from where it came from.

To be continued.

Special October Feature: RM1.JPG (Part 1)

Oh lookie! October crept up to us again without anyone noticing. And if you recall, October is always *supposed* to be a very special month here in Twisted Tales, seeing that it marks both birthdays of the Creator and Creation. Author and Authored. Blogger and Blog. Whatever. It crossed my mind to do a 'Best of Twisted Tales' retrospective, which would make even more sense this year seeing that it's the 5th full year of Twisted Tales' existence now. Though posting has drastically slowed down these past 3 years, there're still a ton of gems for us to revisit. Sounds like a yummy proposition.
But no, says I. Don't get me wrong, though. It wasn't because I didn't want to come across as a self-absorbed egomaniac who harped solely on past glories. I still am. It was because I came up with this really cool piece that refused to be condensed into a throwaway Story of The Day.
It's been a while since we've done this, but... here we go!


RM1.JPG (Part 1)

You know how sometimes weird files mysteriously appear in your pendrive, and nobody has any clue how it got there?

It happened to Ray.

This is the story of a man who one day found two new files in his pendrive, RM1_front.jpg and RM1_back.jpg.

Mystified, he tried printing both files front and back.

The results were unbelievable to say the least. The printed copy perfectly resembled a new RM1 note, down to the squinting Agong and double serial number. Even more amazingly, the file could somehow transform the texture of ordinary A4 paper into that of an RM1 note, complete with silver-coloured lining on the back.

He couldn't believe his eyes. He tried printing a couple more, and there they were - crisp and fresh-smelling as from an ATM machine.

Determined to put this anomaly to the test, he went to the mamak stall downstairs, ordered a packet of limau ais and handed the man two of the notes he had printed and cut out himself. Surely he would notice something strange about it?

He didn't. He just took it, gave Ray 80 sen change and continued bobbing along to generic Hindi music blaring from the cheap speakers.

Ray felt his hands grow cold.

He had, literally, printed money.

*****

Now being an accountant by profession, Ray was careful and calculated in preserving his new-found treasure.

Of course, the first thing he made sure was not to tell anyone about this. Not even his wife. Especially not his wife.

Next, he made copies. Scores and scores of copies, as many as it took. This was not going to be a story that ended with the pendrive becoming corrupted, that he was sure.

Once all the copies were safely stored and his wife safely in bed, he went to work. Working overnight, he managed to print 166 notes before dozing off at 5am. That was RM166. Not bad for a night's work.

*****

The next day at work was hell for Ray. Something's got to give when you sleep for 2 hours before getting through an 11-hour day. He zombied his way through, before plonking asleep at 7pm at home without even taking dinner. Next thing he knew, he was awake at 1am, sleeping wife beside.

With a mind of their own, his feet led him beside the printer.

Time to get to work again.

To be continued.

A Dim Sum Love Story

"So you like her, huh?" Loh, the resident taikor (big brother) of the dim sum place winked. "Go get her then!"

"But... she's always with her friends." he sighed.

"That's the way girls are, mate. You just gotta get to them."

He stole another glance at her. There she was, lovely as ever, bubbly as usual and surrounded as always.

Like him, she was new to the dim sum shop and all its hustle and bustle. The steaming buns, puffy tarts, clattering saucers and frantic pace - it all took some getting used to. He was glad to have an angel like her to make the passing hours easier.

But she never looked at him. Maybe once or twice, but he was sure it was just a normal look that she gave to everyone else. The sort that she could also give to the passing customers or scurrying workers. Or anyone else in her sumptuous life which sadly, he didn't feature much in.

"Someday I'll talk to her." he told Loh with a tinge of resignation.

"You can't think that way! She might be gone someday, and so might you. You gotta make that someday today."

"Really? How? Do I ask her out or something?"

"Course not! You really are inexperienced huh?"

"That's why I'm talking to you."

"You said that she's always with her friends. Why don't you get to know her friends then?"

"Um...okay. Sure you can't come with me?"

"Wish I could, but you know I gotta stay here."

"Oh yeah. Behind the counter."

He took a deep breath and tried to act normal. Perhaps now would be a good time, she didn't seem too busy. Though she was still with her friends. Sheesh.

But wait! She was going somewhere. He would have to be patient first.

His eyes followed her to one of the tables with a lone gentleman. She smiled at him, and he did so likewise. Oh wait... he wasn't smiling at her. He was on his mobile phone. Jerk.

The blabbermouth continued to yak away into his cheap phone, laughing embarrassingly loud at regular intervals. All the dim sum on his table went untouched, while she strangely continued to wait for him in silence.

A full three minutes later, enough time for his tea to become cooler than it should be, he put down the phone. And proceeded to do the single most disgusting act he had ever seen.

He locked lips with her.

Right before his very eyes, he pressed his lips against her unabashedly, face devoid of emotion.

She looked happy.

It was more than he could take. The next chance he got, he left his place and jumped to his death.

*****

"Alas," lamented Loh as a diner emptied him into a plate. "Their love was never meant to be - a siu mai and a har gao."

Facebook Fantasies

2.15pm in the office, after lunch.

Everyone typed and clicked diligently, eyes fixated on glowing screens. Presumably working.

Tap-a-tap-a-tap-a-tap. Nobody asked, nobody told. It was the unspoken code of the After Lunch Hour. It wasn't started or taught by anyone in particular. You just knew.

2.30pm.

"Stop it! I say everyone, STOP IT!"

Sure enough, they did. Why the sudden outburst?

It was Jeff, the extremely ordinary guy.

"You!" Jeff pointed at Ling, who was on the verge of adding her 627th friend. "Have you forsaken your friends in real life for virtual ones?"

Her face went red like a virus alert.

"And you!" He turned to June, who was uploading photos from her latest date. "Has your vision of reality been so obscured, that you see events only in photos and images? Were you really present and living in the moment of your dates? Or were you too busy just snapping away?"

She was so tempted to digicam this absurd moment, but stopped short.

"And you!" He grabbed Siva at the shoulders, who was restarting an umpteenth round of Typing Maniac. "Don't you have a job to perform here? A career to build? A world to conquer? What happened to that gung-ho intelligent executive who impressed me so? Has he been reduced to #4 among his friends in Typing Maniac?"

Siva hung his head in shame. After pausing the game, of course.

"Listen, all of you!" Jeff folded his arms. "Enough of this madness, I say! Have we become slaves of the digital age? Look at our relationships. Our work. Our homes. Our lives, for Google's sake! Thing weren't always this way. When was the last time you remembered someone's birthday by yourself? Caught up with an old friend just because? Took the time to really ask others how their lives are? Or is there no more need for such things, because friends are now a click away, and every detail of their lives cheaply displayed for all?"

"All I ask of you today, brothers and sisters, is that we take a moment to ponder what we want our loved ones to remember of us when we're gone. Shall we be loving brothers, sisters, spouses, children, friends? Or mere photos and names, indifferent to the people we claim to connect with? Don't be just another contact. Go home today and make someone who matters smile."

He slumped back into his chair, exhausted from the impromptu speech.

The others just shot each other confused glances and minimised their Firefoxes. Back to work. It was almost 3pm, anyway.

4.45pm.

"NOOOOOOO!!! JEFF STOLE MY HARVEST!!!"

House of small cubes

Ack! I'm not dead yet, people. A lot has been happening these past nearly-two-months. So much so that I ALMOST went an entire month without posting. ALMOST.

Well actually... this is being posted 2.40am, 1st September. Tweaked the date on Blogger. Guess that counts as cheating.

Anyway, I'm working on another piece at the moment. Hope it'll be ready by tomorrow. For now, here's a really sweet and touching short film I found on Facebook. Some Oscar 2009 winner to boot too. It kinda reminds me of the Pixar animation UP, though I haven't watched UP yet.

Enjoy it with a loved one!

The End

Today, it finally happened.

I've come to the end of a 2-year dream.

A dream I've shed and shared much tears over.

Dreams are nice and blissful.

But at the end of the day, they prove that you're still asleep.

Guess it's time for me to wake up and face the truth.

Farewell, sweet dream.

They say all ends are merely beginnings to a new story.

Let's see.

Dreams On Paper

It was an action-packed afternoon in the office. I was rushing out for a meeting when this Twisted Tale came without warning.

The story is told of a pile of different papers telling tales of their vivid dreams.

"I shall capture the moments of the world." bragged Photo Paper.

"That's nothing." Tracing Paper cut in smugly. "I'm going to see through things of the world."

"Your dreams are all but thin and flimsy," boomed Art Paper. "I, on the other hand, create the space for imaginations to come alive."

who're you calling thin and flimsy.

The papers turned around.

"Oh lookie," Sand Paper barked. "It's Tissue Paper."

"Hey... that's not nice. Be kind to him, will you?" Sugar Paper frowned at such rudeness.

Mahjong Paper snickered. "I can bet you that's not going to happen."

fine then. i'll just go away and wipe my tears.

"No... come back!" Sugar Paper called after him. "See what you've done?" She pouted at the other papers.

Everyone glared at each other.

"Ah. If only she was me, she could erase all the wrongs of the world."

Everyone turned to see who it was who spoke so powerfully.

"For indeed, it is only I who possess the powe-"

"SHUT UP! YOU'RE NOT EVEN A PAPER!" Everyone yelled in unison.

Poor Liquid Paper slunk away, white in embarrassment.

"Ahem." Came another voice from behind. "Want to know what I can do?"

A collective groan arose.

"Let's not even go there, Toilet Paper."

And so the story went. It is, after all, every paper's dream to change the world with what he or she is created for. Simple though they may be, folk stories abound of individual papers who have made all the difference in history. Take for instance the Declaration of Independence. An unassuming piece of papyrus milled from the remote forests of Pennsylvania, bred and selected from hundreds of thousands of its kind. Who would've ever imagined it was this one piece of paper that liberated the world's greatest power of today. It is the hope of someday becoming the Paper That Changed The World that drives every paper to give the best in all they do.

But as they say, many things in life are unequal. Even as the papers stood there engaged in petty squabbles, one paper amongst them all stood in still confidence. Far from being the strongest, biggest, thickest or fanciest sheet, he nonetheless possessed the captivating aura of a paper that was like no other. He had no need for witty rhetoric or impressive fronts. All he needed to do, simply, was to be himself and allow the people of the world to work their magic on him.

He was A4 Paper.

And he knew that he did not have to fight for attention like the other papers. No matter what fate had in store for him, he was destined for glory. He could end up in a school being part of a future inventor's thesis. Maybe in a research lab as part of a revolutionary blueprint. Or even a major political agreement in the hands of world leaders.

But as things turned out, he ended up in the most promising place of all - a multi-million corporate office.

He arrived one inconspicuous Monday morning, part of a family of 500 per ream. A young lady set them beside a huge printer that churned out dozens of his kind daily. Some of them gave their lives to proposal sheets, some project agreements, the less fortunate ones invoices. But all of them made a difference in the world.

Within three days, his turn came. Our A4 friend could hardly catch his breath as he was loaded into the machine, eagerly watching those at the bottom get printed one a time.

20 went into a tender in the morning. Another dozen to a stack of department reports. Some more and more, more and more...

Until it came to no more.

Next up was him.

This was it. His turn to change the world.

"Judy, can you print the construction contract for me? Client requested for a hard copy."

A construction contract! Fancy that!

Those were worth millions at least!

He was so excited he almost crumpled himself.

As she clicked Ctrl + P, he inhaled deeply and waited for the printer to set things in motion.

*****

TIT! TIT! TIT! TIT! TIT!

"Judy, what's that awful noise?"

"Aiyah! Sorry ah boss. Printer jam. I print another copy yah." Judy grinned as she scrunched up the misprinted copy and threw it into the wastepaper basket.

If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.