3 Guys At Work

There once were 3 guys working a long, boring shift together.

Type, type, type went their fingers like feelers on a songless piano. After a while they stopped and waited together for a cue to start again.

"Guys," Roy, who manned the Motion Discontinuation department, yawned. "We've been doing this for 3 full years. 36 months. 1095 days."

"That's nice to know." replied Oliver, head of the Advancement Suspension Preparation department dryly.

"Incoming, Oliver." Greg, Initiation of Passage department leader called out routinely. "In five, four, three, two, one."

Oliver worked his controls nimbly. "Roy. You next."

Click, click, click. I could do this in my sleep, sighed Roy.

"Over, over, central headquarters. This is Greg, No. 24. You are clear." Greg droned over the phone. An affirmative later, he hung up. Predictably.

"How long do we have, Roy?"

"Thirty."

"Great. Time for a cold one." Greg tossed them a couple of beers.

"No. Not this time." Roy put down his unopened beer firmly.

The other two raised their eyebrows.

"I've lost my passion."

They didn't know what to say. This was a highly inappropriate time for career talk.

"I want a change. Something more challenging and meaningful."

"But you're good in what you do."

"No, it's not about me. I just feel like... we're wasting our time here. Day in and out, we sit here waiting for cues and pressing our buttons. I mean, any idiot could do this job. I don't think anyone even knows or cares what we're doing here."

"The headquarters know." Greg retorted.

"Yeah right." Roy snorted. "There're tens of thousands of other guys like us everywhere. What makes you think we matter so much?"

"Everyone is important, dude."

"Well, suit you guys. I'm outta here. Time to rediscover my life purpose."

"Hey! Our next shift is starting soon. Can't you wait till they find a replacement for you?"

"Are you kidding? I'm physically, mentally and emotionally drained out. I just can't take another second of this. Besides, like I said, it doesn't really matter. The world will go on fine without one little insignificant guy like me."

"Er...I don't..."

"You can fill in for me." Roy slapped Oliver's shoulder, hopping out of his desk. "Go for it, pal. See y'all around."

Oliver and Greg stared at each other, scratching their heads.

*****

"Oi DBKL! Itu tlaffic light ah, sudah satu minggu losak. Lu mau tunggu sampai bila balu lepair? Mau tunggu accident ah?"

No matter how boring your job seems, it plays a very important part in making the world tick smoothly. So stop reading my blog and get back to your work!

Happy Belated Labour Day to all!

The Agong Speaks

In light of the recent hoo-ha surrounding him, the Magically-Appearing Agong sits down with Twisted Tales' Bobo to speak candidly about life after RM1.JPG and other stuff.

Bobo: First off Your Majesty, thank you...

Agong: Ugh. None of that crap, please. Just call me Agong. Or Gong for short.

B: Um...never mind, we'll just stick to Agong. So anyway, thank you so much for taking time out of your packed schedule to do this interview today.

A: My pleasure.

B: When we last saw you, you were transforming people into money notes as part of a worldwide scheme to balance out the greed of humanity. So, what have you been up to since RM1.JPG ended in January?

A: Nothing.

B: Nothing?

A: Nothing at all of significance. That's what you get for being a joke.

B: Which brings us to our next topic. In recent weeks, many readers and even Mokkies himself have poked fun at you in the just-concluded Murder In 5sc1. Your thoughts on this?

A: I don't blame the readers for it. They were just following Mokkies' lead. I see it as a cheap publicity stunt for extra mileage on his new story.

B: How do you deal with these negative remarks?

A: I don't. They just sink deep into me and fade away. Kind of like how you digest food and, you know. Life goes on. I spend lots of time with my family. They make me feel more appreciated.

B: At this juncture, how is your relationship with Mokkies?

A: I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan of his work. However, we do still talk. In fact, he called me up a couple of weeks ago asking if I was keen to be a part of Murder In 5sc1.

B: You are not serious.

A: I am.

B: And you told him?

A: A flat out no. I mean, the script was fine, but I just didn't see how I could contribute to it.

B: Looking back, I think most readers will agree that you made the right call. Now, going back to your break-out hit - RM1.JPG. Started out strongly, loads of interest generated, but ended with mixed reviews. Do you feel your character was used correctly in that story?

A: I'll put it this way - I had very different expectations for my character than what actually turned out.

B: How so?

A: When Mokkies first pitched the script to me, I assumed that my character would play a larger part in the whole story, starting even from Chapter 1. There was supposed to be an entire back story building up to my appearance in the end. All of which never happened, taking away substantial continuity and logic from the ending. And if you ask me, that was what the story ultimately failed to deliver - continuity and logic. It just wasn't something any reader above the age of 12 could believe.

B: Who do you think should take the blame for this?

A: My only responsibility was to tell him what I thought. Ultimately, he's the main man. Whatever he says goes. It's his blog. I can't be blamed for him using the same format for every story, and expecting it to pay off without proper planning and structuring.

B: Would you be keen to work with Mokkies again anytime in the future?

A: I'm all for it if the right script comes along. My passion is in becoming a great character, not being a part of backstage politics. Having said that, I am also considering deals from other authors. I mean, Twisted Tales will always be my home, but sometimes when the time comes it comes.

B: Who are some of the authors you dream of working with?

A: I'm a huge fan of J.K. Rowling. Does she write any more?

B: Sure does. Just not Harry Potter stuff.

A: I bet I could be her next best-selling series. Agong and the Sorcerer's Stone - nice ring to it, don't you think?

B: Excellent. Lastly, any upcoming gigs you would like to share with our readers?

A: I'm planning a reunion with the other characters of RM1.JPG sometime next month. But, not like our readers will remember who the other characters are anyway. We'll just party away and catch up like grumpy old men.

B: Well, you could always invite the cast of Murder In 5sc1 to liven things up.

A: Phooey. Those kids can kiss my butt. If I had one.

B: Ah well, that concludes our delightful interview. Once again, thank you for your time.

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

B: Nobody cares.

Murder In 5sc1 (Conclusion)

It's here, it's here, IT'S HERE!

Eight days since the murders started, we now come to the end of it all. Grab your front row seats, we're gonna get up close and personal with the Murderer.

To make things even more exciting, today's finale will be presented in special Black Text to prevent spoilers. You know what to do - highlight the text, scroll down and gasp in horror. If you haven't read the first 4 parts yet, hello, go do so now!

Enough talk. Someone's getting blood-thirsty.

This is it.

Murder In 5sc1 (Conclusion)

Sathia fell first to the ground with a sickening thud.

Dead from a direct headshot.

Philip stared next at Kim, who was bleeding profusely from her stomach where a bullet had gone in. She gazed back at him in confused shock and pain.

"Wh-why did you..." she collapsed to the floor, wheezing as the life seeped out of her.

"No!" Philip cried out. "It wasn't me! I swear!"

Kim's eyes fixed back at him glassily. She wasn't sure what to believe. Did Sathia shoot her before killing herself? Or was Philip lying to her?

There was no strength left to think. She was slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

"Kim..." Philip knelt beside her, tears welling in his eyes. "Don't die..."

"She will die. And then you."

Philip felt the blood in his veins run cold.

"I planned it all, Philip. Hope you liked it."

Now everything made sense to him. The note in Boon's pocket. The lights going out. The gunshots.

The body lying near the teacher's desk.

"I'm the killer." Cassandra got up, dusted her skirt and peeled off the bloodied slit at her neck.

"Made this at home with starch and food colouring." she gestured at it. "It's easy."

The sheer detail of her scheme ran through his mind like a sadistic film reel. She had much earlier convinced Boon to help her rig the fuse and door. Then she came to class before any of them, put on the makeup and created an elaborate murder scene. In the midst of the chaos and darkness, she was able to shoot Vivian without any of them noticing. Boon had obviously been poisoned earlier in the morning. Then finally, the rest were shot while a pre-hidden smoke device was activated. All while he was keeping an eye on the rest of his classmates.

"I loved you, Philip." she smiled and slid another pistol out of her pocket. "But you only paid attention to girls like Sathia and Kim."

"I did everything to make you notice me. I became a prefect. I tried to call you before your birthday."

"I hope I finally got your attention, Philip."

His feet buckled, making him tumble to the floor paralysed.

"I'll kill her first." she pointed the gun at Kim.

Bang! A second bullet finished off the already-unconscious Kim.

"Th...the police will be h-here soon. They'll a-arrest you."

"Sorry dear, dead men tell no tales. They'll only hear my side of the story."

She turned the gun to him.

"I love you."

Bang!

*****

2 Weeks Later

"Some part of me actually blames myself for all that happened." Cassandra testified calmly before a packed courtroom. "I never imagined that he was trying to get my attention all along. He was the class monitor, the popular guy, always surrounded by girls. I was the quiet one. We were from different worlds."

"If I had known his feelings for me, I would never have started dating Khee Boon. I imagine the jealousy he must have felt when he found out. It must have been hard on his ego too. The popular guy losing out to the class nerd."

She paused, trying not to let her voice break up.

"It was my fault. I should have been aware of the signs. Especially the way he suddenly brought soup for Boon that morning. It was poison. He was a genius. He purposely chose a day forecast with thunderstorms, and rigged the fuse to trip easily. The guns and smoke device...all hidden in the room beforehand."

"M-my classmates," Tears began rolling down her cheeks. "He murdered them one by one in cold blood. Then he turned to me and asked whether I loved him. I...I lied and said yes."

She cried, unable to continue.

"Cassandra, look at me. Tell us what happened next."

She breathed in deeply.

"He shot himself in the head."

A deathly silence filled the room.

"I don't know why. I should be dead."

*****

3 Months Later

"Psst."

"Hm?"

"A note. From that new girl...what's her name again."

"Cassie."

"Oh, yeah. Weirdo."

"That's not very nice."

"Haha. Who cares? Sorry anyway, but I accidentally took a peek. She's asking you for a movie."

"Uh oh."

"Think she's got the hots for you, man."

"Yikes. How am I gonna turn her down?"

"Just tell her no. What's she gonna do - murder you?"

THE END.

Murder In 5sc1 (Part 4)

I had a thought that day. What if I die before this story is completed? Then nobody will ever know the shocking end I have in store. Perhaps they'll get someone to ghost-write (pun in your face!) the ending for me. And maybe that guy will just assume I was planning to do a triple-swerve by REALLY making the magically-appearing Agong your Murderer of The Day.

*shudders*

I better get writing quick.

Murder In 5sc1 (Part 4)

The group shuffled cautiously towards the windows at the far end of the class, never once taking their eyes off each other. One of them was the killer, and they all knew it.

"Oh my," Sathia peered out at the relentless rain. "We're so gonna get wet."

"Looks dangerous. Someone could slip and fall."

Philip shushed them. "Here's the plan. I'll throw a chair at the window to break it, so you guys stand back to avoid getting hurt. Then we form a straight line by holding hands to exit through it. There's some space along the ledge which we can use to get to the main balcony. Once we get there, we'll re-form the circle and wait for the police together."

"Another thing." he added. "Everyone's hands must be holding someone else's when we're moving in a line. One hand holding the person in front, one hand behind. The first and the last person must hold with both hands. This way, we can be sure the killer's hands are occupied."

"Agreed." Kim nodded, prompting the rest to follow suit.

"Good. We can outsmart the killer. I promise there will be no more killings."

Another streak of lightning flashed across the sky, drawing a low rumbling of thunder. Ten minutes had passed since the first phone call to the police. Whoever this killer was, he was running out of time.

"Everyone, stand back." Philip readied himself with the chair. "On the count of three."

"One..."

Kim and Sathia placed their hands over their ears.

"Two..."

"Hey, wait!" Gary shouted. "What's that?"

He pointed to the teacher's desk, where a big cloud of gas was rapidly spreading to the rest of the classroom.

"What the..."

"Cover your noses and mouths, quick!" yelled Philip. "That gas might be poisonous!"

Quickly the rest followed his orders, inadvertently breaking the circle. The gas was filling up the room at a frightening speed. They could barely see each other anymore.

"Philip!" A muffled voice called out. "Break the window!"

Fumbling, he felt for the chair and grabbed it. In one swift motion, he held his breath, lifted the chair and flung it at the window with all his might.

CRASH!

As quickly as it had enveloped the room, the gas escaped through the gaping window. In less than a minute, it had almost completely drained away.

Slowly two other standing figures came into Philip's focus.

Kim.

And Sathia.

Where were the rest?

"PHILIP!" Kim shrieked. "SHE'S THE KILLER!"

Horrified, Philip observed a small pistol in Sathia's hands. It was then he realised that the rest of their classmates were lying on the floor.

With bullet holes through their heads.

"It-it was you." Philip turned to Sathia, trembling. "You killed them."

BANG! BANG!

Two ear-splitting gunshots rang in the air, hitting their intended targets.

To be concluded.

Murder In 5sc1 (Part 3)

As you may be able to guess from the speed of updates, I'm seriously hyped up for this story. Just a few things to clarify before we move on:

a) This is only going to be a 5-parter. Because anything beyond that SUCKS.
b) It won't end as a dream.
c) It won't end as someone's imagination.
d) It won't end as a movie or drama being acted out.
e) It won't end with them being a part of some dubious 'scientific experiment'.
f) The murderer will not be some alien / monster / evil spirit that hunts school kids BECAUSE IT CAN.
g) Brilliant idea, but I, the writer, am not the murderer. That's too twisted even for Twisted Tales standards.
h) And for the last time, there will be no magically-appearing Agongs.

Okay, cool? Glad to get that off my chest.

Murder In 5sc1 (Part 3)

"Sh-she's dead." Kim hugged Nora, sobbing uncontrollably.

An air of disbelief lingered as they gathered around Vivian's body. A steady stream of blood trickled from the side of her head where the bullet entered. Frozen in eternity, her face betrayed a total oblivion to the fact that she was no longer alive. One would almost expect her to get up, walk out of the door and go home with her Mom.

Grimly Philip turned them away from the scene. "Guys," he spoke, almost choking on tears. "Did anyone see where the shot came from?"

Most of them shook their heads in between weeps.

"It...it was too dark. And the gun was silenced." Boon grimaced. "Could have come from anywhere."

"This proves just one thing. Someone here has a gun."

The sobs died down momentarily. Everyone shot uneasy glances at each other.

"We're going to have to search everyone."

"You're crazy." Gary retorted.

"Oh, shut up Gary!" Kim yelled at him. "Just do as he says before we all die!"

"Thank you, Kim." said Philip. "Guys, I'll search you. Then you can search me too. Kim, you do the same for the girls."

Reluctantly everyone divided themselves and lined up.

*****

"You first, Boon. Pockets."

Boon turned his pockets inside-out. To his own surprise probably, a tiny slip of paper fell out. Very quickly he picked it up and slipped it back inside.

"Wait...what was that?"

"Oh, it's, erm, nothing."

"Show me."

"It's...hey, I don't feel so well."

"I don't care. Show me the paper NOW."

Boon scrunched his face and handed Philip the paper. It was some sort of passed note.

heyyy, dont forget to show me the fuse box later kayss. =)

"Fuse box?" Philip frowned. "Boon, who is this from?"

"I-I-I..." he started making funny sounds in his throat.

"TELL ME NOW! Who passed you this note?"

Boon tried to say something, but no words came out. His breathing became laboured as he fell and started twitching violently like a dog with rabies.

"Kim! Kim!" Philip called out in horror. "Something's wrong with him!"

She glanced around, shocked herself at the situation. Boon was vomiting massive amounts of blood and thrashing around in desperation, trying to shake off an intensely searing pain from within.

"Someone get an ambulance!"

"The phone! Where is it?"

"Calling, calling!" Philip fumbled it out from his pocket and punched the numbers.

"GAHHH!" Boon clawed repeatedly at his stomach till it became bloodied. "H-H-Hel..."

Another gush of thick red liquid spurted from his mouth.

"Hello? Hello? Why isn't it getting through?!" Philip checked the phone anxiously.

Each passing second felt like an eternity. Through the corner of his eyes, Philip could see Boon's movements reducing to occasional spasms. He wasn't going to last long.

"Hello? Ambulans? Ada kes emergency kat sini. SMK Taman Bakti, Off Jalan Klang Lama."

Boon coughed up a final choke of blood before his head hit the floor awkwardly.

"Cepat ya. Cepat. Kawan saya sakit kuat."

Hanging up, he feared the worst.

"Philip," Kim cried. "He's dead."

*****

"This is crazy man!" Eddy shouted. "FREAKING CRAZY! Where is this killer?"

"Shut up," Philip held up the note. "Boon was in on it too. He helped the killer blow the fuse box. Who was he close to?"

Gary shook his head. "No one, man. The guy was a loner."

Philip studied the note again. "It looks like a girl's handwriting. Anyone can recognise it?"

They passed it round for inspection, but to no avail. The virtual absence of light certainly didn't help things.

"If Boon helped the killer, why was he killed too?" Sathia asked.

"I don't know." Philip shrugged. "Let's analyse. First, Cassandra was killed. We don't know why. Then Mr. Bala, though that was probably intended for the first person who opened the door. Next was Vivian. Then Boon. Perhaps the killer had no more use for him, and didn't want Boon to reveal his identity."

"So...does this mean that Cassandra and Vivian were part of the plan too?"

"Maybe. But Boon's death was different. He was poisoned beforehand. He was in contact with the killer. The others could be random murders."

"No way. There's nothing random about this killer. Just look at how well he planned everything! The lights going out, the door, the gun, the poison..."

"You know what," Gary took in a deep breath. "We should all leave before the killer strikes again. He's somewhere here, and he's got a gun. Anyone of us could be next."

"But remember what happened to Mr. Bala when he tried to open the door? I'm not going first, man."

"Yeah, we could just wait here. The police will be arriving soon anyway."

"Police my foot. We wait here, we die. Comprehendo?"

"Guys, guys, guys," Philip silenced them. "Listen. We're going to leave, but not through the door. It's obviously rigged. We'll go by the windows."

"In this weather? And from the third floor? Are you mad?!"

"Not as mad as you'll be when someone else dies." he glared. "Now, I need everyone to stick together. Everyone. We'll all be facing each other, since we can't trust anyone. Is that clear?"

All nodded.

"To the windows, then. Circle facing inwards. Do not break it."

To be continued.

Murder In 5sc1 (Part 2)

No time for self-indulgent rambling now. On with the killings!

Murder In 5sc1 (Part 2)

"Hey! Does anyone know our school address?"

"Obviously not. Just tell them the name of our school, smarty."

"Ah...OK, nama dia SMK Taman Bakti. Kat Taman Bakti, dekat Jalan Klang Lama."

Philip was calling the police with Vivian's phone while the rest remained glued in silence.

"Ya. Ya. Betul. Dekat bangunan Telekom. OK. Bye"

He hung up, glancing nervously at the other students who were now huddled in a circle.

"So? What did they say?"

"They'll be here in 15 minutes."

Everyone nodded blankly.

"Meanwhile," Philip added. "We need to talk."

He raised his voice as the rain continued to grow louder. "The killer is definitely still here among us. Nobody left the class after Mr. Bala was killed. And judging by the method of murder, it was the same person who killed Cassandra."

"Who would want to kill Cassandra?" Lina wept.

"He would." Gary the class joker snickered and pointed at Philip. "She had a crush on him."

"Please. No time for jokes."

"Guys," Boon cut in seriously. "Let's go through the details. Is there anyone else in school today?"

"Nope. This week's our class' turn for that Saturday extra class thing, remember?"

"Then," he stared upwards. "We all came into class together. And Cassandra was already there dead. So, whoever killed her must have slipped back out to join us."

"YOU!" Kim suddenly turned to Sathia. "You went somewhere before we came to class!"

"Eh, hello. I was in the toilet lah."

Kim fidgeted away from her, unconvinced.

"And anyway, why the heck would I want to kill her?"

"Because...she was always pestering you to let her join the prefects' committee. And you held her back."

"WHAT!" Sathia's eyes bulged in anger. "Rubbish! Who told you that?"

"She did. She said you were always sucking up to the teachers."

"Well, she can go to hell for all I care. I did all I could for that ungrateful girl. It's not my fault nobody likes her in the first place. But I swear, I DID NOT KILL HER. I have no reason to."

"All right, chill. I was just saying."

"In fact," Sathia was becoming increasingly agitated. "I recall you once got mad at her for spoiling Philip's surprise party."

"EXCUSE ME!" Kim shouted in her face. "Everyone was mad at her. We spent a whole week planning the surprise."

"Oooooh, we. I think you were the only one who really cared enough to scold her till she cried."

"Girls, PLEASE!" Philip interrupted. "This isn't the time."

"Okay, okay." Sathia rolled her eyes. "Behave yourself, girl."

Kim looked like she was about to punch someone's head off. Most likely Sathia's.

"I've had enough of this!" Vivian stood up without warning. "I'm asking my Mom to fetch me home now."

"No, no, I don't think that's a good idea." Philip tried to get her to sit back down. "The police might need us to explain stuff."

"Are you kidding me? I have to go shopping with my Mom later."

"Look, our teacher and classmate are dead. And all you can think about is shopping?!"

"I don't care. This is just too weird."

She pushed her way past the other students to the front of the class. As she headed for the door, she suddenly stopped, felt her pockets and turned around.

Everything happened so quickly next.

"Philip," her lips opened.

"My phone."

Swoosh! A bullet ran through her skull, killing her instantly.

To be continued.

Murder In 5sc1 (Part 1)

Ah yes, hope I got your attention. Just when you thought my stories were becoming a wee bit predictable.

Murder in 5sc1 (pronounced '5 Science 1' for those who really must ask) was a silly little story I wrote back when I was...no prizes for guessing. What started off as a joke in between periods eventually become a dramatic 5-parter-complete-with-epilogue riddled with cliches and inside jokes which some of my classmates read and claimed to enjoy.

Now 8 years older and wiser, I shall courageously attempt to refresh this old-school tale minus the kiddy insider jokes. It's gonna be darker and more sinister than most of my recent works, but still a thrill of a ride as always. To make things more exciting, this time I've actually thought of the ending before I start and will sneak in bits and pieces of it as we go. No magically-appearing Agongs here okay.

So buckle your pinafores and tuck in your shirts kiddos...it's time for Murder In 5sc1.
Murder In 5sc1 (Part 1)


The wailing sirens blared incessantly, a sweet symphony of relief to her. Finally!

Two sturdy officers stepped down from the first patrol car.

"Cik, kami menerima panggilan kecemasan dari sini. Apa kejadiannya?"

"Dia...dia...bunuh mereka semua. Classmate saya."

"Okay, bertenang cik. Kami akan menyiasat dan mengambil langkah-langkah yang diperlukan."
He turned to another approaching colleague. "Razif, kau jaga dia dulu. Ini kes pembunuhan."

*****
25 Minutes Ago

Click. Click. Click.

Everyone stared in speechless horror as the lights flickered on to reveal Cassandra sprawled under the desks.

As the title of the story suggests, a crude slit ran across her neck, releasing an outpouring of dark blood that seeped into her light blue prefect's uniform.

She was, for all intents and purposes, dead.

"Dah...dah mati, cikgu."

No one said a single word. Outside, the rain started pouring violently, delivering what the grey skies had been threatening all afternoon.

"W-we should check her first." Nora whimpered. "Maybe she's not dead yet."

"Let me check." Kim stepped forward. "I'm a qualified first aider."

"No. Hands off." Eddy held her back. "Don't you dare touch her. This is a police case."

"Did anyone call the police yet?"

"Is the killer still around?"

"Teacher, I want to go home now!"

"EVERYONE QUIET!" Mr. Bala boomed. "I'm going to get the police."

He gingerly stepped over Cassandra's body, clearly trembling himself. In the back, a few girls huddled and started crying. Philip, ever the class monitor, was trying his best to remain composed while doing a head count.

"That's strange." Mr. Bala repeatedly twisted the door handle. "Why is it lock-"

BOOM! A deafening bolt of lightning simultaneously cut him off mid-sentence and blew out the lights. Hysteria ensued as the girls started screaming in the near-darkness of the now full-blown thunderstorm.

"Stay calm! STAY CALM!" Philip's voice rang out. To very little effect.

"What happened to the lights?"

"Fuse tripped." Boon the class geek studied the wiring sternly. "And the fuse box is outside."

"Mr. Bala!" Sathia called. "Where are you?"

The sky had become dark very quickly, making it hard to see. Philip strained his eyes at the door, but could make nothing out. Mr. Bala wasn't standing there like he was before the lightning flash.

"It's too dark."

"Here, I have a handphone! Use the light." Vivian pushed her Sony Ericsson W518a into Philip's face.

"What the...why are you bringing a handphone to school?"

"Hey! Do you want to look for Mr. Bala, or not?"

"Hmph." He took the phone and repeatedly pressed the middle button to keep the light on as he inched towards the door.

"Mr. Bala? Mr. Bala...are you there?"

A lump steadily grew in his throat. This can't be good. Why isn't he answering?

"Philip...where are you? Did you find him?" some girl asked.

"Wait."

Like ships to a beacon, a dozen pair of eyes trailed the solitary light of the handphone across the room. Slowly it went around the teacher's desk, over Cassandra's body, past the blackboard...

Plonk. Philip clumsily tripped over something, dropping the handphone and making Vivian shriek in the process.

"You IDIOT! My phone!"

"What?!" Philip shot back crossly. "It was an accident, okay?"

To his surprise, she started screaming. Not out of anger, though.

It was a scream of utter terror.

His eyes followed where her finger pointed, and before he knew it, he was screaming and scrambling like a madman too.

There, lying in a pool of fresh blood, was Mr. Bala with his throat slit open.

To be continued.

In The Hospital

A poem inspired by my 3 stays in the hospital in the past 2 months.

In the hospital,
Strange people sit around me.
They cough, they moan.
They wheeze, they groan.
They find it difficult to pee.

In the hospital,
Everyone has a defect.
Some have bandages, some cannot walk well.
Some are in pain, why I cannot tell.
One way or another, everyone's imperfect.

In the hospital,
It's okay to look terrible.
No one checks their breath or combs their hair.
Every morning, any clothes are okay to wear.
Only the nurses need stay presentable.

In the hospital,
You're allowed to be a brat.
Push a button, summon a nurse.
Smile for Milo, ask for breakfast.
Don't forget soap, hot water and stuff like that.

In the hospital,
Nobody's ever in a hurry.
Days are spent waiting for meals,
Doctors, nurses, thermometers and pills.
Then dinner, and a self-told bedtime story.

In the hospital,
You don't have to smile.
Who cares about being friendly and sociable?
It's fine to remain in your little world.
And embrace your inner emo child.

In the hospital,
There's something new about every morning.
Hope abounds in every corner,
Of going home and getting better.
You look and realise that suffering is fleeting.

In the hospital,
Bad things make everything else good.

Sometimes I wish,
The world could be more like the hospital.

Life Is A Cartoon

If you're a child of the 80s or early 90s like I was, the pictures above may serve to rekindle some fuzzy memories. Ah yes, those were the days when everyone wanted to become a cat superhero in tights or glamourous lead singer with the flick of an earring.

Some time back, I was bored in office and decided to search up these classic 'toons in Wikipedia. It's a highly recommended experience. There's just something special about reading these kiddy stuff from a bygone era in the factual confines of Wikipedia.

Take for instance:
ThunderCats follows the adventures of the eponymous team of heroes, cat-like humanoid aliens from the planet of Thundera. The series pilot begins with the dying Thundera meeting its end, forcing the ThunderCats (a sort of Thunderean nobility) to flee their homeworld. The fleet is attacked by the Thundereans's enemies, the Mutants of Plun-Darr, who destroy all the starships in the "ThunderFleet," but spare the flagship hoping to capture the legendary mystic Sword of Omens they believe is onboard. The sword holds the Eye of Thundera, the source of the ThunderCats' power, which is embedded in the hilt.

Or how about:
The central "secret" of the series is that Jem is in fact the alter ego of Jerrica Benton, owner/manager of Starlight Music, who adopts this persona with the help of Synergy, a holographic computer designed to be the ultimate visual entertainment synthesizer (built by her father, Emmett Benton, who left it to her on his death), to acquire more money to not only support Jerrica's own company, Starlight Music, but to also support the Starlight Foundation for Girls, a foster program founded by Jacque Benton, the mother of Jerrica and Kimber Benton.

Wow. It seemed much simpler when I was watching back then.

When we were kids watching cartoons, all we cared about who the good guys and bad guys were. Eventually the good guys would surely win. But we didn't know that.

Often, we didn't even know the names of the characters, why they were fighting or what they were talking about. All that mattered in those 30 minutes was who would win in the end. And the pretty colours!

In fact, if you re-watch these old cartoons now, you'll probably spot loads of plot details that make you go, "Ohhh...now I get it."

Doesn't life sometimes seem like a cartoon too?

When you're young, you do many things without knowing why you do them. Because they just feel right. Along the way, you may cut some corners, hurt some people or make some mistakes. And before you even realise it - bang, you're old. One day you just pause and look back at the things your younger self did.

You start, "Oh my, how could I even have thought of saying that?" "What on earth possessed me to do that?" Just as you're about to brush them off as the follies of childhood - click - it all magically makes sense.

Every friend you made. Every love you had. Every deed you performed. Every cause you championed. Every decision you made. They all happened for a reason that was beyond you at that time. You didn't know how or why, but life has a way of pulling us without strings. All you need to do is sink yourself into the present.

Like my animated friends taught me so many years ago, sometimes we need to think less and feel more. It'll all fall into place in the end.

Men's Restroom Etiquette

I was going through my old Hotmail junk when I remembered this email from almost 5 years back. One of those Funny Bone subscription things. Read it again, and just as hilarious and insightful as the first time. So I'm sharing it with you guys. You know it's gonna be good!

Men should ace this test ... women may have a little difficulty.
There IS a code of "Restroom Etiquette" that MUST be followed.

The following is the urinal configuration in a sample men's room.
An "X" above the number indicates "urinal is in use."

(Sample):

|---|---| x |---|---| x |
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
-------------------------------

(Indicates urinals 3 and 6 are occupied.)

You are to identify correctly, based on urinal etiquette, at which stall you are to stand. Good luck!

#1) Easy

|---| x |---| x |---|---| (Urinals 2 and 4 occupied.)
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
-------------------------------
Your choice: ___

#2) Easy

| x |---|---|---|---|---| (Urinal 1 occupied.)
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
-------------------------------
Your choice: ___

#3) Kind of tricky

|---|---|---|---|---|---| (empty)
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
-------------------------------
Your choice: ___

#4) Kind of tricky

|---| x |---| x |---| x | (2, 4 and 6 occupied)
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
-------------------------------
Your choice: ___

#5) Subtle, tricky, but important to know

|---| x |---|---| x | x | (2, 5 and 6 occupied)
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
-------------------------------
Your choice: ___

#6) VERY tricky indeed

| x | x |---|---| x | x | (1, 2, 5 and 6 occupied)
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
-------------------------------
Your choice: ___

Correct Answers:

#1: Stall 6
It's the ONLY one to go to and every guy instinctively knows this.

#2: Stall 6
Stall 5 is acceptable, but you run a greater risk of being next to someone who arrives later.

#3: Stall 1 or 6
You are tacitly saying, "I don't want anyone next to me."

#4: Stall 1
You're stuck being next to at least ONE guy, so you minimize the impact and get a wall on your left. NEVER go between TWO guys if you can help it. Exceptions to this are stadium restrooms where the herd thunders in.

#5: Stall 4
Believe it or not, 1 and 3 "couples" you with the guy in stall 2. And we wouldn't want THAT now, would we? This differs from question 4 in such a subtle way that the nuances cannot be explained. Suffice to say, only we men would understand!

#6: Stall - NONE!
You go to the mirror and pretend to comb your hair or straighten a tie until the urinals "open up" a bit more. If you have to go REAL, REAL BAD, for goodness' sake... use a doored stall!

Other parts of the Unwritten Code of the Urinals:

-- NO Talking, unless it's a good friend... but even then, keep it terse and unemotional. This ain't no clubhouse.
-- I don't think I need to tell you, absolutely NO touching of anyone other than yourself. A touch of another's elbow is of the highest offense.
-- NO Singing. Period.
-- Glances are for purposes of acknowledgment only..."Yeah, I see you there. I will not look again".

Generation R

What the heck does a picture of 3 kittens have to do with this post?! Oh wait...

R for random, that is.

Ever noticed how common the word random is becoming these days?

When someone cracks a joke that's not funny, we go "Eh, don't be so random lah."

When someone dresses inappropriately, we say "Why wear so random today?"

When someone falls down, we laugh, "Hahahaha. RANDOM."

In fact, the word random doesn't even really mean random anymore. You just use it when something is generally:

a) Funny ("Hahahaha! That's random!")
b) Not funny ("Er...okay. That was random.")
c) Weird ("Wait...don't you find it very random?")
d) Unplanned ("I feel random today.")
e) Stupid ("OMG. Random.")
f) Inexplicable ("I dunno lah. Random I guess.")
g) Illogical ("That was just...random.")
h) Unexpected ("His presence at today's party was very random.")
i) Confusing ("What're you guys talking about? I feel so random.")
j) Annoying ("Hey, stop being so random okay!")
k) Crazy ("Whoa, I can't take it. It's too random for me.")

Believe it or not, the word random has become random itself. What a cruel twist of fate.

It's the anthem of the generation. Where we once had groovy in the 70s and cool in the 90s, this decade is heading straight down the highway of randomness.

Don't believe me? Just take a look at any blog from someone aged under 18 these days. More often than not you'll find the following titles:
a) A Random Day
b) Random Pictures
c) Something Random
d) Random Stuff
e) Randomness
f) Random Thoughts
g) r@NdOm~!!

Or horrors, it could even be the title of the blog itself. If it's not 'My Life' or 'Story of my life' or 'Welcome to my life'.

But hey, no hard feelings there. We can't all be called Twisted Tales.

You know what? I blame it on computers. In a world where the Internet and computer games seem more real than life itself, you can't blame Generation R from thinking that the world is a series of random occurrences where everything happens, un-happens and re-happens with just a click.

Continuity is becoming a lost art. Nothing ever needs to happen for a reason these days. You can have any combination of anything you want just like that. And once you're bored of that, reboot and pick another combination. Facebook. Online games. MP3 downloads. Streaming movies. Think about it - every form of entertainment associated with this generation works according to the theory of unlimited choices within minimal structure. Which largely translates into random fun.

So you see, random is more than just a word. It's an entire state of mind. When Gen R-ers laugh over random, it's not as simple as a joke. It's a proclamation of what they stand for.

Don't say I didn't warn you. Randomness is here to stay. No one can say why or when it'll last till. It just happened.

Now that's random.

Special October Feature: RM1.JPG (Conclusion)

Finale update in yer face!

My my, what a year it has been. Fastest and most eventful one yet. But that's another story for another day.

For now, I have a great story to complete. So to all, TA DA and WELCOME TO 2010!


RM1.JPG (Part 5, Conclusion)

They both stared disbelievingly at the gone-case laptop in stunned silence.

Nothing showed on the screen.

The only remaining copy of the RM1.jpg file was in the laptop.

"No. No. No." Ray frantically scrambled over to it and pressed the Power button repeatedly.

Still nothing.

He tried again and again and again and again. All to no avail.

It was gone.

"Hey, we can fix it I think..." Leong tried to examine the laptop.

"AGHHHHHH!" Ray screamed. "IDIOT!!!"

Leong was completely caught off guard as a stiff punch struck him square on the jaw.

Before he could even fathom what was going on, the same fist hit him again at the exact spot.

And another. And another. He didn't even have time to retaliate mentally.

Quickly the metallic taste of blood seeped all over his tongue and out. The energy was literally draining out of his body, masked only by the overwhelming sensation of pain coursing through his head.

Then he fell unconscious with fear of the worst kind - would he ever wake again?

*****

"Leong? Leong?" Ray shook him violently.

What have I done? Please don't tell me he's dead.

Anxiously wiping beads of cold sweat forming across his brow, he stared in horror at the bloody, motionless mess.

What have I done? What have I done?

"He's not dead yet."

Ray whirled around in complete shock at the alien voice and almost passed out.

Standing before him was a life-sized moving, breathing, blinking figure of the RM1 Agong. Yes, the exact same face that stared back at him from every Ringgit note he had ever used, just IN FREAKING PERSON!

How could any of this be real?

The ceremonial headgear. The enormous eyebags. The stern gaze. Every inch-perfect detail. It was the Agong.

Ray's hands and feet trembled and grew boneless. What was going on here?

Was he dead himself?

"Are you waiting for an explanation?" The Agong spoke sternly. "Does none of this make sense to you?"

He could only manage a breathless half-nod in his paralysed state.

"It makes perfect sense to me. You were corrupted by absolute power, and you tried to murder a fellow friend."

"I...I...he-"

"You almost killed him."

Five seconds of deafening silence passed.

"You see, money is a mere concept. It is a tool created by governments to lend some semblance of value to what they do. It is neither physical nor real. Only the people who use it are."

"Who are you?" Ray blurted.

"Consider me the conscience of economics, sir. The reconciliator of man and greed itself. It's physics really - an equal and opposite reaction for every action. I exist in every coin, note, card, cheque, share, asset, bond, land and form of human wealth."

"Let me ask you this, Ray. Have you ever imagined a world without money?"

He shook his head.

"Liar. You thought about it every second you were chasing after it like everyone else. But truth be told, I have never believed in the existence of money."

"After all, what is money but sheets of paper we use to determine our place in the world? You call yourself rich; I call you a greater puppet of this religion than others."

"You see this?" The Agong held up an RM1 note and pointed to the Agong printed on it. "This is not just a fancy illustration. Behind every Agong ever circulated in the world lies the story of one who failed to overcome."

"Overcome what?" Ray could hardly breathe.

"The test."

"What test? What?!"

"Why sir, surely you did not consider yourself a unique case. The test has been running for over six hundred years now. A thousand random individuals around the world daily. They are given access to unlimited wealth and monitored to see how they interact with it. If they are deemed worthy possessors after 12 months, they get to keep the money."

"Who's behind all these? I'm going to-"

"Ah, ah. You're going nowhere. Since the day man has sought to covet, a delicate balance needs to be kept. Those who harbour excessively must be removed and converted into another form. Just like energy."

"Ray, do you know what happens to those who fail to overcome?"

He shook his head in utter fear.

"They," The Agong placed a sprawling palm over Ray's face. "Become part of the balance."

With those words, Ray was eternally frozen into an Agong on a crisp new RM1 note. He himself had become a part of the greed he brought into the world.

Just like that, the Agong vanished in the midst of an unconscious body, scattered notes and a damaged laptop.

And Ray was never heard of again.

*****

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

This is about to happen to Erica.

THE END

EDIT: Okay guys, I have no idea whether that was the crappiest or coolest ending ever. I think this story suffers from the 'Matrix syndrome', where expectations are built so insanely high on the back of a super-cool premise that there's no way the ending can fulfill the plot. After spending many quality brain cells, this was the best I could come up with - yet. Just be honest and let me know what you think. If it's utterly awful, we could always - you know - rewrite it. Suggestions most welcome!

Special October Feature: RM1.JPG (Part 4)

Back from Singapore. It's nice and all, but you just kinda miss how much Malaysia sucks after a few days. Ah, home sweet home.

And are we still at October? Good grief.

RM1.JPG (Part 4)

"Let's see," Leong adjusted his glasses one more time. "And what did you say this was for again?"

"What do you want to know for?"

"Whoa, chill man. Just trying to make sure I give you what you want."

"Just remove the words."

"How detailed do you need it to be? That's why I need to know what you're using it for."

"As detailed as possible."

"Ho boy." he patted his brow. "Not gonna be easy. How on earth did the text get there anyway? You don't have any layered files?"

Ray had to bite his tongue to keep his temper from lashing out. After much effort in vain to remove the words himself via online Photoshop tutorials, he finally relented and sought the help of Leong, his ex-colleague who also happened to be a part-time graphic artist.

"I don't know. Just remove the words."

*****

"What do you think now?" After over 2 hours and no less than six separate amendments, patience was running thin in the room. Ray was proving to be a very difficult customer indeed.

"Er..."

"Looks fine to me."

Ray widened his eyes and stared at the touched-up file for a full minute. The colour was fine. The texture was fine. The shape was fine. There should be absolutely no reason anyone would suspect it had been tampered with.

But it was just so obscenely obvious that there was something wrong. It looked horribly different from the original.

This was one of those things his logical mind hated. There was nothing - UTTERLY NOTHING - that he could put a mental finger on. Something was horribly different, disfigured even, about it and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Still not there yet."

"You must be kidding me!" Leong retorted indignantly. "We've been going back and forth a million times already. I think it looks fine."

"Trust me, it doesn't. Looks very, very strange."

"What is? Tell me."

"I don't know. Just do your job, okay?"

He heaved and fiddled a little more, clearly unhappy.

"How's this?"

"No. Even worse."

"Ugh! That's it man. I just don't get what you want." he threw his hands up in desperation. "What is this for anyway?"

"Just. Do. The. Job." Ray snapped, trying hard to maintain his composure.

"Is this even legal?"

"SHUT UP AND DO IT!"

"Hey, hey," Leong stood up. "You're acting weird here. Sure everything's okay?"

"Everything's OKAY. Remove the words. Just remove the words."

"I can't, man. We've been trying for hours now."

"I PAID YOU!"

"Yes I know. But I just can't do it. Maybe you should pay more for someone better. I know this guy-"

"I should pay more? PAY MORE? HOW MUCH MORE DO YOU WANT?"

"It's not even about me! It's about how much you're willing to pay for someone else!"

Without even realising it, Ray gave Leong a hard slap across the face.

He staggered and tumbled over slowly, more out of shock than pain, before a heated glare escaped his eyes.

Like possessed, he leapt and tackled him to the ground, forcing slaps on a covering Ray. Ray tried to fight back, but Leong was surprisingly strong for his size. They scuffled for a while, trading blows in an increasingly intense manner, when everything halted to a deafening CRASH.

The laptop cable, caught in the chair wheel, had dragged the laptop off the table to the shiny marble floor, where it now lay motionless and picture-less.

To be concluded.

Special October Feature: RM1.JPG (Part 3)

My apologies if you've been kept waiting for far too long! Been very caught up in the annual whirlwind that is VBS (Vacation Bible School) these past 2 months, which explains why updates have been even fewer and further in between than usual. This year's VBS was an especially tricky affair, with the storied Graduation Concert replaced with a Carnival on the last day. So instead of handling a group of rascals, I now had to work with about 20 groups of rascals. Okay, so some of the rascals did turn out very helpful after all. Throw in the task of directing SIX separate sketches (English and Chinese versions over 3 days of VBS) for the Storytelling session, and there you have a load that I would surely have collapsed under if I was still working full time.

I guess the lesson this time around was on working with people. Many of life's little lessons over the past 2 years came ringing back in my mind, in the process revealing sides of me that I was surprised to see. Surprised in a good way, but still surprised nonetheless.

Well, it has been nothing short of wonderful. But now that the dust has settled, it's time for life to move on. Such as updating my blog and satisfying the millions of readers out there.

P.S. I know I know, it's really horrible having to wait 1 whole month for a single update. Not like it's a Lord Of The Rings trilogy or what. I PO-RO-MISE that the RM1.JPG story will be completed by this month, okay? Lots of love.


RM1.JPG (Part 3)

"Here," Ray smiled broadly, dumping a whole bag of RM1 notes on the counter. "Seven thousand three hundred and ninety-nine. Count them all."

The bewildered salesman sifted through the notes one by one. After an hour and half, they finally verified that his notes were real and there were 7399 of them in total. With that, Ray was able to take home his brand new Bravia Plasma TV amidst suspicious glares from every worker in the shop.

He couldn't care less. He just loved the feeling of superiority money brought him.

It wasn't even like he had to live with guilt or fear. For one, his money wasn't illegal and the police could never come knocking on his door one day. Also, his income was inexhaustible. If anyone robbed him or anything, he could just - you know? - print some more.

With each note he printed and cut, he felt himself growing into someone different. Someone with less worries. With more freedom to do what he wanted. Someone who need not care too much about what was right to others.

And of course, this is where the story has to take a turn.

*****

It all started when Ray got home after buying the Plasma TV. Having installed and tested it, he felt bored and decided to print more money first, just in case. After all, it wasn't every weekend he got the chance to be alone. His wife was at her mother's.

As always, he double-clicked to open the file. Then he saw it.

There, in bold black type, sprawled across the Agong's face:

THE LOVE OF MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL

"WHO DID THIS?!" He slammed his fist against the table in uncontrollable anger. "WHO??!"

There was no way anyone could have known about it! He had been extremely careful every step of the way. No one could possibly have been able to access his files. Not his co-workers. Not his boss. Not his friends. Not even his wife!

"ARGHHHHHH!!! I SWEAR, IF I EVER FIND OUT..."

Wait! Didn't he have a Plan B?

Of course! He backed up all the files! He was a genius!

*****

Unable to read. The file might be corrupt or incomplete.

"Impossible." Ray mouthed and inserted another CD.

Unable to read. The file might be corrupt or incomplete.

He cursed under his breath. This couldn't be happening.

Unable to read. The file might be corrupt or incomplete.

Surely there had to be just one working file. Just one.

Unable to read. The file might be corrupt or incomplete.

"NO!" He flung the entire stack of CDs against the wall. "NOT A SINGLE ONE! NOT A SINGLE ONE!"

He had gone through every single file in his Recycle Bin, C and D drives and external hard disks. Even the original file in his pen drive was missing. All he had left was the disfigured file in his private folder.

He racked his mind over and over to study if anyone could've somehow touched his files. Nothing. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. It was just a gigantic black whirl of nothingness.

*****

After three hours, Ray managed to list down all his available options:

a) Discontinue printing.
b) Continue printing notes with additional text.
c) Ask his wife to find out what happened.
d) Try to find someone to Photoshop the words away.

B and C were almost immediately struck off. B was almost sure to land him in prison, while C was both not a solution and highly damaging to his marriage.

"No," A voice in his head said. "I cannot stop printing the notes. I'm already halfway to becoming rich. I can't stop now. Not now."

So it became clear. He had to either Photoshop the words away himself, or find someone to do it.

To be continued.

Special October Feature: RM1.JPG (Part 2)

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 they 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."