Engagement Gift

Something I found in my laptop.

For heaven's, Shin, you write the most nonsensical nonsense.

*

“Jovanth –“ I scream, but it sounds like I am whispering. “Jovanth-“

I fall onto a pile of – I am not sure what is it called – I think they are called dried leaves? They are brown, in pieces and they look crumpled. I can’t walk anymore. I am just too tired, and I am hungry.

I am out of concentrated food pills and River-in-a-Flask. I don’t know what is edible and what is not. I remember reading in a book that these mini umbrellas – I think they are called vastshrooms – are edible, but I also remember reading somewhere that some of them are poisonous, so I dare not eat them.

I only eat bananas because I know be it yellow or green, they are all edible – just that the green ones taste somewhat funny. And I had eaten bananas in my life before. They were really expensive – two hundred and fifty eight Mercury dollars and seventy nine cents for a quarter of a banana - due to the fact that they were extremely rare. My family could only afford to eat it once in a month – one quarter of a banana to be shared among three of us.

It is quite a pleasant surprise that I actually get to eat more than a quarter of banana here. In fact, I am actually eating banana by bunch. I actually lost count of how many banana I wolf down. I eat until it starts giving me discomfort – I don’t know why, after having the seventh banana I feel there is plenty of air in my stomach and I know I have to stop. I suppose too much of a good thing is equivalent to disaster.

I also come across a red hairy fruit and I remember they are edible too. I think they are called ramaltans. The only difficulty I have in getting ramaltans is the fact that I don’t know how to climb trees, so I have to hit the tree with a stick repeatedly until the ramaltans fall down. You can’t blame me for not knowing how to climb trees because I have never seen one in my life. I am good at climbing skyscrapers, but they are smooth, they don’t have little six-legged red creatures (I think they are called hents) crawling on them and I climb them with skyscraper-sucker gloves and boots, which do not work on trees.

Trees are so mysterious that not even my grandmother had seen one in her entire life, and my grandmother is so old that I thought she should be placed in museum.

I only get to see real trees because of Jovanth, my crazy, adventurous, daring boyfriend.

“So - When are you going to get me an engagement ring?” I asked Jovanth when we were having fun air-skating at the newly launched theme park on Venus.

“Honestly, Schiya – what makes you think I will get you an engagement ring?” he asked in a way which I deemed lackadaisical.

I kicked him hard so he fell to the ground. It only took him seven seconds to bounce back – why did I have to get him such a good anti-gravity belt for Christmas? Should have gotten him ZP210, that model takes 3 minutes to bounce back once you fall, and it’s so much cheaper.

“I can explain –“ He rubbed his ribs but I kicked him again. At the same spot. I was a sadistic girlfriend.

“No Schiya – “

I kicked him to the ground again. Bullying him was one of my favorite past time.

“Listen, Schiya –“

I kicked him for the last time and flew away. An angry woman is a deaf woman.

He cuddled up to me as I ate ice cream alone at the café. I struggled but when he kissed my cheek, I softened and stopped fighting. His kisses never failed to calm me down.

“You know me,” He kissed my cheek again, and even though he did this countless times before I still found myself blushing. “Would I give you something as ordinary as an engagement ring?”

My eyes widened. So, he had something better planned! Oh Jovanth, I love you, I love you so much!

“Look at this, babe,” He pulled out a piece of folded paper from his pocket. Once it was unfolded I saw a picture of a round, green object with many thorns on it. “This is called a durian, king of fruits. It is legendary, no one has seen it in our times, but in the past it was extremely popular, and it holds magical power - whoever who eats it will gain courage, whereas the cowards flee upon hearing its name. Don’t you think this is way better than an engagement ring? Imagine – just you and I – embarking on a journey to find durian. The day we find one is the day we get engaged. Isn’t that romantic?”

Of all the men in the universe I had to fall in love with this idiot. My heart sank from the nine thousand and eighty seventh floor to basement.

“Jovanth,” I took a deep breath, trying to make myself sound calm when I was not. “An adventure to the middle of nowhere is not romantic.”

“But Schiya, you and I are adventurous. Adventure is our romance,” He insisted.

“For heaven’s sake Jo-“ He shut me up by kissing my lips, and I surrendered.

I must be the biggest idiot in the universe to fall in love with Jovanth.

*

So we packed (we couldn’t really figure out what would be needed, so it was basically just a couple of concentrated food pills, few bottles of River-in-a-Flask, laser-knife ring, Waze-scroll and flashlight-contact lenses) and started our journey to look for durian. According to Jovanth’s research, the best place to get durian is a little town called Bentong (located at Pahang, Malaysia) on Earth. We stole Jovanth’s family spaceship (I felt really guilty because I previously dented their spaceship) and travelled all the way from Mercury to Earth.

I had never been to Earth before. Maybe once when I was really young, but I could not remember anything. This place looked so different from the place I lived in.

No skyscrapers, for instance. The tallest building probably had only two hundred floors. There was no use for anti-gravity belt, or skyscraper-sucker gloves and boots.

Creepy, very creepy. I felt shiver down my spine.

“According to Waze-scroll, we are only 10 minutes away from durian estate,” Jovanth said. Sensing my fear, he squeezed me gently.

I love adventures, honestly I do. Which explained why I love Jovanth. But this was just too scary. I guess I am only adventurous within what I know.

It only took us minutes to reach the durian estate, and the first thing that came to my mind was “no, I will not go in.” I tugged Jovanth’s shirt and shook my head. He hugged me tightly and kissed my forehead.

“It’ll be fine,” He whispered into my ear.

“I hope you are right,” I sounded as if I was about to cry. I got a bad feeling that this would be the place that separated us.

Good prophecies never come true but the bad ones always do. Darkness loomed, we slept against a tree but somehow when the blinding light woke me up Jovanth was not by my side anymore. I panicked and I ran around like a mad woman and stopped doing so after some time because I realized that was not a good strategy as my energy drained out very soon. I tried to remain calm but whenever I saw creatures which I had never seen (I knew they were not dogs nor cats, these creatures had bushier tails) immediately I got covered in cold sweat, not knowing whether what was approaching me was a friend or a foe.

I walked and walked and walked. I had no idea how long I had walked. I kept calling out for Jovanth, but all I could hear was my own voice amplified and repeated numerous times.

“Jovanth-“

*

“Schiya? Schiya!” I feel something patting my face. Open my eyes slowly and in front of me – the idiot I missed – looking worried and clumsily feeding water into my mouth.

Once I regain my energy, I slap him.

“Ouch! What on earth was that for?” He yells.

“For disappearing. Where – did – you – go – do – you – know – how – worried – I – am – you – know – how – scared – I – felt – don’t – you – how – dare – you – leave – me – alone?” With every word I fire a punch at his chest, which he does not defend himself against.

Once I stop punching, he pulls me towards him and hugs me.

“I’m sorry, Schiya. I’m really sorry,” He squeezes me tighter and I almost can’t breathe. “But I know you are a strong girl, you are intelligent, you are brave, you can take care of yourself. That’s why I love you in the first place,” He looks into my eyes and I can see from the corner of his eyes he is smiling, which further annoys me. He pokes at my puffed up cheeks. He loves doing it when I get angry. As if he is eager to make me angrier.

“I saw durian leaves and I had to follow it’s trail,” He places a long, thin, green leaf on my hand.
“And I found durian. Follow me!”

When Jovanth gets excited he forgets everything, including me. He runs as if he is a fully fuelled NZ320 spaceship, totally forgetting that I am panting, lagging behind, trying hard to follow him.

“Ta-dah!” He stops abruptly and I almost run into him. “Isn’t this beautiful?”

In front of me I see many trees with durian hanging on them. Soft beam of yellow light shines through the leaves making the durians looking like emeralds. It is an incredible sight, something I had never seen in my life.

Too beautiful to be true. All the fear, the panic, this whole journey… It’s worth it.

I kiss Jovanth, which he reciprocates passionately.

“Thank you. Best engagement gift ever. I love you.”

“No, honey, that’s not the best. We haven’t taste it. “

Jovanth climbs up one of the trees clumsily and tries very hard to pluck a durian. Every inch of the fruit is covered with thorns hence making it difficult to be plucked.

That’s when I spot a durian under the tree.

“Come down!” I shout.

“Ahh, that’s perfect.”

Jovanth points his laser-knife ring at the durian to cut it open. We see something yellowish, and the next thing we know –

Stench.

I want to vomit.

“I’m not eating this,” I cover my nose. “No way.”

“But we came so far. And we want the courage gained by eating this, no?” His voice sounds funny with his nose covered.

“Come on Schiya. Just a bite,” he nudges.

I hesitate.

Why must our engagement gift be something so awful? I hate myself for loving this guy.
Jovanth places some of the yellow flesh in his mouth and his face brightens up.

“This taste much better than it smells, Schiya.”

I’m not sure whether if I should believe him. After all, he was the prankster who pretended that wasabi was the best thing on earth just to get me to taste it, and he laughed so hard when my tears rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably, begging for water.

Reading my mind, he laughs. “I’m serious, honey. Have some.”

He forces the yellow flesh into my tightly closed mouth. I back off but his other hand has my head wrapped tightly so I cannot escape. Like parents forcing their children to take medicine, he pinches my nose and once I open my mouth in reflex action to breathe, he shoves the yellow flesh into my mouth and covers my mouth with his hands.

Many vulgar words find their way to my mind and I swear I am going to use them all on him but once my taste bud reacts to the taste I change my mind.

Hakuna matata, what a wonderful taste.

“Would you marry me?” for the first time in my life, I sense that Jovanth actually sounds nervous.

I kiss him, again and again. There is no need for words.

*

We end up residing in Bentong after marriage. Durian made us fall in love with Earth. It is a quiet peaceful little planet and we actually work hard for living.

No robots to serve us. We learn to wash clothes, wash dishes, cook and a number of other chores (and yes, we can now climb trees skillfully). Tough initially, but Youtube, Google and Pininterest had provided us with useful tips and we slowly learn to adapt.

It’s a shame that us homo sapiens had abandoned our planet after destroying it to satisfy their whims and fancies. It’s a shame that us homo sapiens never bother to return to their home. It’s a shame that us homo sapiens forgot how beautiful their home is.

Jovanth and I, we really enjoy watching stars at night and waking up early to watch the sun rise and to listen to the birds chirping. We take long strolls along the beach and we run barefoot on grass. We bath in the sea and we sing our songs as we pluck mushrooms in the jungle (oh yes, now I can differentiate the edible ones from the poisonous).

“Baby,” I said with my nose on his and my arms around his neck, “This is so romantic. I wish others are here too.”

“I know,” He plants a kiss on my lips. “I have the same wish.”

“Remember how durian made us fall crazily in love?”

“You mean…” He raises one of his eyebrows.

“You know me. I was a marketing student.”

“Got it,” He laughs. “Let’s start working!”

*

Jovanth and I, I have to say, we are perfect match. We come up with engagement tour package and we travel back to Mercury to advertise it.

As we are very familiar with Earth now (Bentong especially), we can guide people around to ensure our tour package is safe. The success rate for proposals are high (as expected) which attracts more couples to join our tour.

People come, they fall in love with durian, and more importantly, they fall in love with Earth.

We see people shifting to Earth, including our parents.

“You know something, Jo?” I ask, as I watch people having fun swimming in the sea and strolling on the beach.

“Hmm?”
“That durian idea of yours? Best engagement gift.”

Sand

For every heartbreak he caused, a part of him turned into sand.

By three hundred and sixty fifth day, he had almost turned into a statue completely, save for his mouth.

"Yes? What is it?" She asked, noticing how hard he struggled to open his mouth, hoping for an apology, or a confession.

"I should have never tackled a witch's daughter, no matter how rich she is."

She destroyed his statue as soon as it was fully formed.

Heads Up, Dim Sum

Writing is a therapy and a tool of self-discovery for me.

(And money, too.)

I wrote "Heads Up, Dim Sum" for Fixi anthology. Didn't make it. A little disappointed but I wasn't really expecting anything; there are so many dedicated and talented local writers out there. 

More importantly, I had my fair share of reward in the process of writing : I found another piece of jigsaw puzzle about myself.

My tendency to include the issue of consent in sexual intercourse (rape would be a simpler term but I don't think the word itself is sufficient to highlight the topic that really bothers me. Not that rape doesn't; it is just that I am more concerned of this depressing gray area in law called consent) and prostitution. How romance made their way into my writing, even though I rarely see myself as a romantic soul. 

More importantly, my desire to voice out for the oppressed.

(when I am not writing sarcastic nonsense purely for my own pleasure.)

A novelist and mentor once asked me : Why, Shin, why do you write? What is your discourse?

The crying voices that we hear, the anger that could not be properly channeled, the murderous melancholy.

Do you hear the people sing? They are singing the songs of angry men. 

*

Two guns aimed at my abdomen.

Yen was right. We should have stayed in Kunak.

She told me we were doing fine in Kunak, that our Tilapia fish feeding business was going great.

However, when I received a proposed partnership to expand business in Ipoh to create 36 integrated farms on a 100 acres area, I lost my mind.

During our second month in Ipoh, Yen and I were still busy unpacking. So many stuff, so little time. One Friday when we were unpacking as usual, Yen and I stopped abruptly and collapsed onto the bed together, letting the mattress absorb our heavy flow of tired sweat. We looked in the eyes and smiled; there was no need for words. My lips conveyed gratitude to her welcoming lips, my hands loved every inch of her hardworking body appreciatively, my hot steel rose despite weariness.

With all the excitement and new environment, we had been having sleeping problems since relocation. That night, however, both of us slept like our daughter, Bee Bee. I even dreamed of becoming a pirate of a golden ship. The golden ship suddenly turned into a giant alarm clock and started barking. I tried to silence it but my attempt was unsuccessful.

It took me some time to realize that I wasn’t dreaming of dog barking. The dogs were really barking. It wasn’t the usual long, rhythmic stanzas that us Chinese regarded as “how dogs bark when they encountered ghosts”. It was brief and explosive, low pitched and harsh, as if they were trying to tell us to “run fo your life! It is getting dangerous here and I could not hold the fort any longer!”

As I opened the door, I wondered what could have frightened these tough black Doberman Pinscher and brown Belgian Malinois who had the ability to scare intruders off with just their appearances.

Two guns aimed at my abdomen.

*

Jun always laughed when I said “I have a hunch that...”

He never believed in my hunches. They were not scientific, he said.

That night, that Friday night, I had a hunch that something terrible was going to happen. I felt like I was back in primary school when my classmates were happily chatting away, and suddenly I quieted. The next moment, the principal entered the classroom with a cane.

Only, it was much more intense now.

A part of me wanted to stay safe in the locked room. Another part of me refused to die as a coward. Then I remembered Bee Bee and the thought of her gave me courage.

I couldn’t let anything happen to Bee Bee, I thought. I couldn’t let anything happen to Bee Bee, I unlocked the door. I couldn’t let anything happen to Bee Bee, I walked out of the room. I couldn’t let anything -

I rushed back into the room again when I noticed four men surrounding Jun, two of them aiming guns at his abdomen, my heartbeat racing fast.

There was a moment of silence. I wondered if I should dash out. I wondered who should I rescue - Jun or Bee Bee - if I did manage to muster enough courage to dash out. I wondered if I was safe behind this locked door - I saw guns - I’ve never seen guns before. I wondered if I should escape through the window.

“Don’t disturb them, I will follow you,” Jun broke the deadly silence. His voice was surprisingly calm, to me at least. Maybe my heart was beating too loudly to hear his quiver. I couldn’t hear what those four men said either, but I knew they must have said something, for I heard voices that did not belong to Jun.

I heard them knocking on my door, too. Loud, thunderous, pounding rap that threatened to cause the wedding photo on the wall to fall and shatter. My breathing stopped. Welled up tears froze in my eyes and I tried to stop my heart from beating, while praying for Bee Bee not to cry at this moment, for I noticed her turning in her sleep.

Save me, Amitabha. Save us, Jesus Christ. Save us all, Ya Allah. I prayed to all the Gods I knew, and I didn’t stop praying until I heard the sounds of boat engines which indicated that they had left our area.

I tip-toed out of the room. Everything looked the same: the unpacked packages remained unpacked, the furniture were not moved, the romantic snow globe was still next to the TV.

Bee Bee woke up with a yawn. She ran all around the house before stopping in front of me.

“Where’s daddy? He promised to bring me to the beach today.”

“Daddy needs to go to work today,” I pat her head with more pressure than usual, went to the toilet and let my tears flowed out with my urine until I was calm enough to call Chee Wah, Jun’s business partner for help.

*

I wondered if I should abandon ship. That was what my worker, Azlan did. The kidnappers cursed and swore but they made no attempt to catch him back as he swam away.

However, I dared not. Partly because I was afraid that I would die, but that was not the main reason : the kidnappers might kill me anyway, it was just a matter of when.

I was more worried that they might kill Yen and Bee Bee if I tried to escape. Azlan was single but I wasn’t, and the kidnappers had told me that they would leave my family unharmed only if I follow them. Which I did, and they had kept their words.

So had I. So far.

It is better for one to be killed than to risk two lives so that one has a fifty per cent chance of surviving, even though I really didn’t want to be tortured to death.

Where would they take me? What would they do to me?

I remembered reading in newspaper. Abu Sayap or something. Some foreign gangsters that kidnap people for ransom.

I couldn’t believe that that was happening to me. I had often distanced myself from what was happening in newspapers as if those were news from a different world that coincidentally happened to be similar to the world I was living in. I suppose that was the way my mind coped with something as depressing as newspapers.

I must be dreaming. Surely this newspapers shield could not be broken.

*

I didn’t see Azlan being kidnapped, but through the window I saw him returning. He was running, panting, breathless. He was alone. I was going to bombard him with questions but at the same time my phone rang. For a moment I was walking back and forth, from the door to the phone and from the phone to the door, for I could not make up my mind.

Until I accidentally knocked over the phone and it fell to the ground with a heavy thud and I just had to pick it up and answer it.

“Your husband is with me.”

I couldn’t think of an answer. All that I could do was to sob, but the kidnapper seemed to be expecting that anyway.

“12 million if you want to see him again. Alive.”

With that, the conversation ended.

“I don’t have 12 million!” I screamed into the phone when what I heard finally registered in my mind. I was forced to accept the fact that there was nobody on the other end after a long moment of silence.

*

Yen’s sobbing had transformed into daggers that pierced through my heart. If only I could grab the phone I would tell her that I am fine, but I could only managed a “hmph” through my taped mouth, accompanied by the rattling of the shackles on my wrists and ankles.

“12 million if you want to see him again. Alive.”

One of the kidnappers locked eyes with me as he said that and I felt cold even though I was sweating profusely.

He was practically killing me. Soon, I would be killed for real.

It was just a matter of when and how.

The kidnappers left me alone in the hut, chained. Whenever I thought I couldn’t go on anymore, someone came in, bringing me food. Sometimes, I got to eat fish and rice. Most of the time, however, it was just tapioca, and nothing else.

I lost track of how many times the sun rose and went down. Through the gaps between the bamboo shoots I could catch glimpses of sunlight, followed by moonlight, occasionally starlight, and sunlight again. I remembered driving Yen around Kunak looking for the perfect stargazing spot. That was before we got married. I was still courting her back then. We kissed under the starry night on a carpet of grass. I had no idea that I could be so romantic but Yen brought out a side of me that I never knew existed.

We used to have sex at all Kunak beaches. Why did we stop doing that after we got married?

I was drenched, dried and drenched again. Rain and sun, hot and cold, who would have thought that I could recover from flu without any pills? Who would have thought that life could be so short and unpredictable?

I miss you, Yen. Have I told you that I love you?

*

I wondered if I should cover up hell notes with real money on top.

I wanted to smash everything in the house and scream but I couldn’t. Chee Wah, my parents and my friends borrowed me money but it didn’t even total up to 1 million.

I wished I hadn’t sold my gold necklaces for Jun’s business. That way, I would have more money now. That way, I wouldn’t even need these money now.

The kidnappers told me I have three more weeks to come up with 12 million. If I couldn’t, they would send me Jun’s head. I begged them for more time. They told me to get the money from my government before slamming down the phone.

Maybe they were joking when they suggested that but I took it seriously. I spoke to 22 Members of Parliament. 20 had not replied. 1 said he was doing his best to help me. 1 refused to help me on the grounds of “this is a bad precedent that will open the floodgate”.

I had been dreaming of Jun’s head ever since then. I was selling my breasts and vagina to that 22 Members of Parliament for help and random strangers for money in my dreams. There was a huge, broken hourglass on top of me which contained Jun’s heads instead of colored sand. Each time I wanted to refuse a customer because I couldn’t stand the rawness and pain, more of Jun’s heads would roll down and hit my face, covering my face with blood. I woke up each night to wipe the blood off my face only to discover that I was crying and sweating.

*

The kidnappers allowed me to walk at the beach. I was chained, there were two men in front of me and two more pointing guns at me from behind, but at least I got to be out of the hut for the first time since I was kidnapped.

I had no idea where I was but it was a beautiful place. The sand was white, fine and soft. The sea was clear blue and I could smell sea salt in the wind. I remembered the last thing that I promised Bee Bee was to take her to the beach.

She would love it here. We could fly kites, build sandcastles, collect seashells and watch hermit crabs. Yen could read Nicholas Sparks and guard our belongings while we have fun.

I want to see Yen and Bee Bee again.

I was taken back to the hut where, to my surprise, there were plates of Dim Sum waiting for me. I looked at the armed men in delight but they left me without a glance. Didn’t matter. I wolfed down the pork and shrimp dumplings, followed by fish balls. Oh, so elastic and juicy, just like the ones I had with Yen and my parents-in-law.

The yam puff was crispier than the ones in my memory - either that, or I was really hungry. The flaky pastry crumbled and fell onto the dirty ground but I picked them up and threw them into my mouth anyway. Who knows? This might be the last dim sum for me. I couldn’t afford to waste anything.

Bee Bee used to waste food whenever we took her for Dim Sum breakfast. She would bite the prawn dumplings into halves, scoop out the prawn for consumption and leave the translucent pastry on her plate. I would eat those for her, earning me a nickname among my family : the filial daddy.

‘There was a movie about barbecue pork bun made from human flesh. Those were the days when people did not have enough food to eat and they had to kill their friends to survive. So don’t waste food unless you want others to turn you into food,’ I used to lecture her with a joke. She would just blink and laugh while continuing eating the prawns, leaving the tasteless pastry for me.

I then vomited abruptly when I noticed a finger in my yam puff. When I realized it still had Bee Bee’s pink Barbie toy ring on it, I passed out.

I woke up much later to realize that it was a nightmare, and there was nothing around me except cold tapioca.

*

Am I dreaming?

It had been 176 days since Jun was kidnapped. I heard his voice once on 74th day. He said “I’m fine” but he didn’t sound okay at all. The kidnapper took over the phone conversation after that to remind me of our bread-or-head deal.

I stopped reading the newspapers, nor did I have to, for friends and family called me all the time, updating me of what was written in the papers, asking me what was the progress, telling me to be strong.

The newspapers was all about Jun. How the government was in the middle of negotiation with the kidnappers, how the police refused to tell the journalists if any demand for ransom was made, how Azlan escaped, how they thought I ought to feel, what the experts thought of the state of our national security and other nonsense that I did not care about.

Jun used to tell me that newspapers reading is depressing. I disagree as I only read horoscope and comic back then.

Am I dreaming?

176 days after Jun was kidnapped, the government told me that they had successfully gotten him back to Kunak.

I thought of how my friends told me I would get straight A before PMR result was announced. That excited me and got my hopes going up, causing me to repeatedly tell myself to calm down so I would not be overly disappointed when I saw a B on my result slip.

What if Jun returned in a coffin? Would Jun return in a coffin? What would I do if Jun was returned in a coffin?

I asked my neighbor to take care of Bee Bee for the day. I told Bee Bee that her father was coming home from business and I was going to fetch him at the airport. Bee Bee nodded happily and only went to neighbor’s house with me after I took out her swimsuit and placed it neatly on her bed.

Sandakan police station was not very huge, and it was even smaller now with reporters from various newspapers.

Flashing cameras blinded me but when Jun arrived - alive - at the station with two policemen, I could see every bruise and wound on his body as if they were magnified. I saw the shackling marks around his ankles under his torn pants. His lips were chapped, his eyes were red and his face was sunken. His pupils had turned gray like a dead fish, but when they saw me, they lit up in recognition and we ran towards each other, crying, laughing, shouting, hugging tightly.

There is no place like home. We are going home.

Photo

"Oh Dom, how can I ever repay you-"

"Tony Roma's," Dom said dully without lifting his head. Oh well, that's Dom, a huge fans of magic and good food. He often wave a long stick at us while shouting nonsensical phrases like "Accio" and "Wingardium Leviosa." If I could I would send him to mental hospital but he scored straight A in both SPM and STPM so technically, there's nothing wrong with his brain, and most importantly, he is a fantastic mechanic and my second-hand Myvi breaks down most of the time, so having him around really helped me save lots of money.

He also repairs my toilet, smartphone, laptop and now, he's going to repair my relationship. Hopefully.

You see, I recently started dating this poor Malay boy called Arif and my Chinese Christian parents were obviously not too happy about it.

"No pork? That's terrible!" Mother wailed as she ate bak kut teh. "And I don't raise you to starve thirty days every year!"

"Dieting from time to time seems like a good idea," I said as I squeezed my belly fat. "Detox, you know."

"And he's only earning RM 1200 per month?" Father looked at me as if I just told him that our country had been recognised as the safest country in the world. "Can he afford to buy a house in KL? No - wait - can he even afford to buy a motorcycle?"

"I like to walk. Good exercise."

"And you have to wear hijab for your wedding, right? Hijab clashes with any elegant wedding gown that I can think of!" Sister looked like BayMax had died for second time with his microchip gone.

"You know how I hate it when my hair gets stuck on my face because of the stupid wind? Hijab solves that problem."

"And you're going to convert and in case if you forgot Muslim can have four wives and if I am not mistaken you get jealous easily don't you?"

"I don't think he can afford to have more than one wife. I'm a shopaholic, remember?"

I knew my persuasions failed when I noticed my family members exchanging a "she's nuts" look.
I had to try harder.

"He's really nice, and soft spoken, and he's a gentleman, and very humorous, and he's romantic, you don's see many romantic guys these days, we waltz in the rain and that was the most romantic moment in my lif-"

"HE HAS THE HEART TO GET MY PRECIOUS LITTLE PRINCESS DRENCHED IN THE RAIN?" My mother screamed and she looked like Christmas had been cancelled.

"I can't accept this poor, inconsiderate Malay boy as my son-in-law. You break up with him the first thing tomorrow morning and that's an order."

*

The first thing I did the next day was to see Arif, as per my family's order; to figure out how to persuade my family to accept him, not as per my family's order.

I was thinking about elope or playing Romeo and Juliet as I drove when I realised that I had a flat tyre.

"Hi Galaxy. Call Dom, mobile," I spoke to my smartphone after pressing Home button twice and hung up immediately when Dom picked up my call. It means I'm in trouble and I forgot to reload my phone's credit and he should call me back immediately.

"Jalan Loke Yew, near Viva," I said when he called back.

*

"You don't have to start researching on poisons, you know," Dom said as he changed my car's tyre. "All you need is Polyjuice Potion."

"Polly has a cracker?"

"Polyjuice Potion, dummy. Hermione used it in Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets. It allows you to take the appearance of another person. All you have to do is to ask you boyfriend to drink it and he can look like a Chinese guy."

"You're asking me to believe in magic and you're calling me dummy?"

"Look, I have been researching and studying about Polyjuice Potion and while it is impossible to get ingredients like Boomslang skin in Muggle world, I managed to find other substitute ingredients. Don't give me that disgusted look - they are all edible. You just get me photos of the guy you want your boyfriend to turn into and I'll do the rest."

I was not sure if I should believe a potential mental patient who won a scholarship to study chemistry in UK.

*

The next evening Arif and I drove to Dom's place to "add the photo to Polyjuice Potion and make Arif drink it."

"I hope it tastes like strawberry milkshake," Arif said excitedly.

Mother's right. I should ditch this guy. Here I was worrying about him getting poisoned and all he could think about was how would the weird concoction taste like?

Dom opened the door when we pressed the doorbell. He was shiny-faced and sweaty and looking like a panda.

"Up all night stirring the potion. You have the photo with you?"

I nodded.

"Drop it in, then. Drink quickly. I really need some sleep."

Hand trembling, I dropped the photo into the pot. The potion hissed loudly and frothed and turned yellow.

"Oh, mango milkshake," Arif said as I ladled the potion into a glass and handed it to him.

I looked at Arif anxiously as he gulped down the potion. What if this weird stuff actually works and Arif really transforms into the man of my dreams? Oh boy, I'm going to hug him and kiss him and caress him at every opportunity I get and holy macaroons, our kids would look so charmin-

Arif's screams and Dom's thunderous laughter pulled me back to reality.

"Of all the men in the world, you have to turn your boyfriend into Justin Bieber?"

Laughed

At the train station he kissed her. First the lips, then the tongue, followed by her neck and finally his lips and his tongue and his hands found their ways to her bosom. She was shocked and tried to push him away.

“Are you scared?”

He laughed.

*

She wore a mini skirt to the cinema. He suggested that they watch Annabelle.

It was a horror story, yes it was. Not because of the ugly doll, but because he placed his hand inside her skirt, up her thighs, up her panties, into her panties, with his long fingers exploring what was within.

She tried to escape but there was no way to run.

His eyes were still fixed on the screen.

“What kind of idiot would accept an ugly doll like this for a gift?”

He laughed.

*

Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was planned.

After a night out with Klang’s seafood where a friend’s car conveniently broke down, she ended up spending the night in his room.

At 4.00am, the white bed sheet turned red.

“Gosh! You are… ?”

He laughed.

*

She was drying her hair in the public bathroom all alone after a relaxing night swimming, covered in nothing except a short white towel that was only long enough to cover her private parts when he barged in, removed her towel, kissed her, touched her, aggressively attempting to penetrate her.

She resisted, but she was just a girl.

“I checked. No one here.”

“But this is a public - ” she begged and stopped in the middle of the sentence as she heard him moaned.

“Do you want anything for supper?” He asked when it was all over.

She shook her head.

“Tired from our little exercise?” She did not respond.

He laughed.

*

It was the time of the month when nothing was right for a girl, and to make things worse, the crimson liquid oozing out of her did not discourage him from wanting her.

She said no.

“But you’re my girlfriend,” he begged. “You’re the only one I want. Give me. Please?”

She wanted to escape but he pinned her down.

“You know you can’t run.”

He laughed.

*

"You're not wearing it," she pointed out in a small voice as he undressed her, crying a little.

"It doesn't feel good."

"But I might get pregnant. Please?" She pleaded.

"Nah, that's harder than winning lottery. Don't worry."

"But..."

He bit her lips to shut her up. She winced.

"Don't pretend. You like it, don't you?"

He laughed.

*

He pulled and pushed her head as he moaned, louder and louder, finally releasing him in her mouth.

She wanted to spit it out but he made her swallow it.

"You look pathetic."

He laughed.

*

He didn’t tell her anything, but she heard.

Everyone in school talked about it. How they had been sleeping together. And if she didn’t say a word…

She wanted to ask him.

Why would he tell others about the colors of her bras and panties? Why would he tell others about how often they did it? Why would he tell others about how she behaved on bed?

Why?

She wanted to ask him. She took a deep breath and walked towards him, anger boiling in her. He noticed her, smiled a little, and continued looking at his phone.

He was watching the video where he was in her mouth.

She opened her mouth, but before she could say a word…

He laughed.

*

New city, new friends, new phone number.

She was exhausted after hours of unpacking in her new room.

Her phone rang. It was her sister.

“How’s everything?”

“Good.”

“And so the chapter ends.”

“And so a new chapter begins.”

Feeling a little cheerful, a little relieved, she laughed.

Ghost-Writing

Being a ghost writer means that no one would know that I'm the creative soul behind the story or article that they are reading.

*cries in a corner*

On the other hand, it also means that if they don't enjoy what they're reading, they won't complain to me.

*jumps in joy*

Anyway, lately I've ghost-written these:

1. Old Wine, Old Wife

2. A LUCYd Experience

3. Tale As Old As Wine

4. Wine Investment : Profit or Pleasure?

Also very happy to say that The Fem published my short story, Eyes, which I had shared with The Writer's Tower previously.

Frankie and I

  Hi, my name is Elaine, 24 this year. My father is Chinese but my mother is Brazilian. Well, that's what my dad told me. My mother died when I was a baby.

  My father left me when I was 8. He realized having another mouth to feed was too troublesome. I would never forget the rainy night when we slept by the roadside, cold and starving. I fell asleep listening to my father telling me the story of the boy who cried wolf. When I woke up I was alone. 

  

 I met Frankie when I was chased out of an eatery while begging for leftover food. He handed me a sausage roll which I wolfed down within seconds.

"Begging won't work. Just steal," he laughed as he wiped away the mustard at the corner of my mouth.

Bread and sausage are the best thing in the world. Second best thing. First would be Frankie.

Frankie taught me how to steal so I won't starve to death. He also taught me how to perform on streets so we could get more money for sausage rolls - for days when stealing was too difficult. 

If I remember correctly, it was a Friday. A bad Friday when we didn't manage to steal any food and no one paid for our performances. 

We were sitting on the roadside when two actors in fancy outfits passed by, arguing. The woman was shouting at the man, saying that he was responsible for her blisters because he won't carry her, and how he won't help her with the chores. 

"Why don't you hire someone to do the chores for you?"

"How am I supposed to find a person who's willing to work for free? We don't have much money, we can only afford to pay them bread and sausages."

Frankie and I volunteered ourselves and we spent a few years sweeping floors and washing clothes for Royce and Jennifer. Jennifer yelled at me all the time for the smallest mistake I did; so I was really happy when the audience shooed her in the middle of Romeo and Juliet, complaining that Royce and her were too old for the roles.

The next day Frankie and I took over the performance. After we successfully caused Royce and Jennifer to suffer from a mild case of food poisoning that was severe enough for them to stay away from the stage for a couple of hours, of course.

  Royce and Jennifer never had a say in anything since then; and as we performed more we found two more young servants, Wendy and Bobby, like how we were once found.

*

Andrew came to us uninvited. He said he would make our performances better. More people would watch us. More money for us.

 That was interesting. 

  He said he would be our new leader. I had to pull Frankie hard to stop him from punching Andrew.

  Frankie chased him away but every now and then he would appear out of nowhere to interrupt our plays. I noticed that whenever he appeared we sold more tickets.

 Having performed solo for so many years, I suppose he had figure out a way to command audience's attention.

 I persuaded Frankie to let him stay.

*

Frankie and Andrew disagree with each other all the time. From where to go to where to perform to how to adapt Odette into a comedy.

I shouted at Andrew while standing behind Frankie; though secretly agreeing with Andrew that Frankie's idea would never work. No one wanted to watch ballerinas doing something disgracefully ridiculous on stage.

Andrew was right. Audience wanted to see cleavage. Sexy women. Like the roles I had been doing all these while - breaking the fourth wall to do lap dance for the male audience.

  That was the only way to make money. Male performers were only needed to carry props.

  I wanted to laugh when I saw Frankie practicing hard. He missed the point completely.

  His heart was in the right place, I thought as we kissed. But he's losing it.

  Andrew, on the other hand...

*

For what happened next come watch Seringgit @ DPAC:

http://www.dpac.com.my/page/ticket/bookTicket/view/271.html

Diary (for The Writer's Tower, June 2014, Theme : Mirror)

A good friend just broke up and she was crying hysterically. I hugged and patted her for quite some time before she calmed down.

A French guy aged 27 fell in love with a Malaysia girl aged 40.

No, these two events are in no way related to each other. I just happen to have a weird train of thought.

Love is a funny thing no?


*
Title : Diary
For The Writer's Tower, June 2014, theme : Mirror.

18th February 2008

As usual we did not follow our colleagues for lunch. They loved going to The Ship; something temporary staff like us could not afford.

We were talking about the boys (or girls, in Jack's case) who had chased us. Carina told us about the boys who chased her; some boys even followed her home.

"Interesting stories from Carina," I said when we took the escalator back to office.

"I don't understand why so many boys would chase her," Jack replied.

"Because she's pretty I guess?"

"I don't think she is. You are prettier. Much prettier."

That night I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a very long time, smiling so widely that my face almost cracked.

21st February 2008

Standing in front of the mirror, I tried very hard to put mascara. I wanted to look perfect for our first date.

It was my fifth attempt but I still looked like I had spider legs clumped together on my lashes.

Jack was quite metrosexual and he knew more about fashion and makeup than me.

Wiping it off I tried again. I won't give up.

22nd March 2008

I walked towards the bookstore alone, face still red. His manly taste lingered on my lips.

That was my first French kiss. My first French kiss. My first French kiss.

We were in his car camwhoring. When he showed me the pictures we took he accidentally showed me a picture of him and his ex.

Maybe I was jealous. Maybe he was guilty. He hastily deleted the picture and then we...

It was rude to open your eyes when you were French kissing but I couldn't help it. I opened my eyes and saw him kissing me passionately in the mirror.

There was nothing to do except reciprocating.

His arms were on my waist and then they moved upwards.

My mind went blank completely. Should I stop him? We were doing this in his car. In an open car park. Anyone can see us.

Perhaps reading my mind, he withdrew his hands and stop kissing - rather abruptly and there was something in his demeanour that suggested he was pissed.

"My parents are overseas. We can have the whole house to ourselves," he suggested.

"I - I need to get something from the bookstore," I didn't know what I was saying, but I knew I had to say something. "See you!"

Got out of his car before he could say anything and walked away as fast as I could.

1st April 2008

A new girl called Orange joined our department. Rumours spread fast in office and soon everyone knew she was the kind of slut who would sleep with anyone with a dick.

Not sure if I was being paranoid but I felt neglected.

While touching up with my compact powder I caught a glimpse of him guiding Orange with her new job.

Not sure if my eyes were deceiving me but his arms seemed to be touching her breasts.

And it looked like it was accidental on purpose.

5th May 2008

Standing in front of the full length mirror naked, I hated everything I saw.

Flabby tummy. Panda eyes. Dull skin. Small breasts. Thick thighs. Puffy eyes.

You are fat and ugly, I told myself. You sucks. You deserve to be dumped.

Woke up four times in the middle of the night without alarm. Each time I would be playing Sean Kingston's Beautiful Girl and cried while listening.

That was our song. Then it became their song.

He promised I would never experience the pain of breaking up. He promised I would never have an ex-boyfriend. He promised we would be celebrating birthdays and anniversary till the day I die.

I threw away all the folded and torn receipts in my handbag. He loves paper planes and he taught me a method of folding paper plane that somersaults halfway flying.

Gone were the days when he patiently taught me which part of the receipt I had to tear to achieve the desired flying result, I thought bitterly, tears falling down uncontrollably again.

18th February 2014

"You are not perfect," Zac says. I pretend to be angry. "But that's what makes you perfect."

Zac and I, we have been together for six years and still counting. He is much shorter than me, a little plump and wearing nerdy glasses. No one in their right mind will consider him handsome.

But he is such a fun guy to be with. He is romantic, humorous, full of surprises but most importantly, he is loyal.

Being a religious Christian, he also believes that we should not have sex before marriage.

Six years and his love for me had not changed since the day he asked me to be his girlfriend.

"Let's take a selfie," he says suddenly, after I finish my durian cream puff. He hates the smell of durian but he never stop me from eating durian.

Unlike some other guy I know, Zac respects me.

"I thought you hate selfie," I laugh. He thinks duckface is the dumbest thing in the world.

"Not when you are involved."

I take out my mirror to tidy up myself. Just tidying the hair as I don't have any makeup on. Zac thinks I'm beautiful without any makeup on.

My reflection looks happy.

Je Te Veux (Written for The Writer's Tower, May 2014, Theme : The Evil Within)

My second entry for The Writer's Tower. 

When this was written, I had my first French colleague joining our company. Previously we had Philipino, Indian, Taiwanese, Indonesian... but French, it was our first time; so all the girls were getting excited (and the way our manager kept telling us how good looking he is didn't help the matter).

When we saw him for the first time it felt like a dream-come-true. Blonde hair, blue eyes, charming smile - it felt like meeting some Hollywood hunk in real life. 

Of course we soon discovered that he is a crazy, funny (and like most of us, he is exceptionally good at verbal bully) guy. Apart from the fact that he couldn't adapt to Malaysian food (Chinese sesame dumpling balls look like eyeballs to him), he was pretty much very Malaysianized - he used "tak boleh tahan" and "balik kampung" more often than us. 

The way he cracked lame jokes ("Who wants my eggs?" he asked during lunch), it didn't take long for us to stop having romantic fantasies about him.

Anyway, he was the inspiration for this story. 

*

Title : Je Te Veux

Written for The Writer's Tower, May 2014. 

Theme : The Evil Within

I could relate to One Republic’s Counting Star so much. Yes, I felt something so right doing the wrong thing.

It felt so good to wake up and realize that the person who hugged you to sleep was not your fiancé. I could feel the heat from every inch of his body and it melted me.

 I just wanted to stay in this moment forever.

He was my new colleague; a French guy my company hired to give our company a global presence so we can penetrate the international market. The first time our eyes met I knew this is one guy I got to have.

Did not matter that he was in a relationship. Did not matter that I was getting married in two months time.

I wanted to kiss him, hug him, sleep with him, at least once.

Call me slut, bitch, whatever. Like I care.

Being his team mate I had all the excuses in the world to make him work overtime so he would not have any time to date his girlfriend. I made sure I wore low cut dresses to work. And my skirts kept getting shorter.

We spent so much time together it was only a matter of time that something would happen between us.

All I needed was an opportunity… And opportunity came, in the form of our company’s team building trip at Phuket.

It was the perfect chance. I made sure both his and my room mate were too drunk to walk back to their own rooms to sleep.

Let them catch a cold sleeping on the beach. Who cares?

I made sure I looked drunk. Face was red, who cares if it was alcohol or blusher. I made sure he was reasonably sober to carry me back to his room. Or my room. Whichever. Did not really matter.

You can imagine what happened next.

I turned a little to look into his face more closely. Sensing my movement, he opened his eyes and greeted me with a morning kiss.

“Cereals for breakfast? That’s the only thing I have in my luggage, and I don’t think you’ll want to join other colleagues for breakfast hmm?” I poked his chest.

“Whatever you say,” he mumbled as he kissed all over my neck.

My cellphone rang and the word across the screen said “Darling.”

“I’m at the beach having team building session with my team,” I smiled, cuddling up to him.

*

Daydreams like this happened when you had too much rice for lunch.

“You’re staying late again. I’ll fetch you home alright?” he asked when he passed his proposal to me.

“Merci.”

It takes him an hour to drive home from my place but whenever we work overtime, he made sure he fetches me home.

Not sure if he’s being flirtatious. Maybe French guys are more polite and gentleman than Malaysia guys.

Every time he reaches my house I wish he’ll kiss me goodbye before he leaves. Or come into my house and…

But he’ll just say “see you at office tomorrow!”

Leaving me feeling disappointed and frustrated, talking to my fiancé (dull and boring conversations as usual, after being together for donkey years) before I go to bed.

Perhaps things would be different if we were single when we met each other, no?

Perhaps I really need to take some action. It’s 21^st century, anything can happen, there’s no need for me to be a good girl.

It’s time to wake up the devil in me.

What's Good for Skin? (For The Writer's Tower, April 2014, Theme : Ostrich Pee)

Once again I'm blogging, thanks to my writing buddy Joe Wai.

(No idea how long I can keep this going but it's a good start.)

No, actually it started with The Writer's Tower, a Facebook group dedicated for enthusiastic writers. Every month someone will come up with a theme, and all of us have to write something. A story, a poem, a haiku - there's no limit.

And how did I get to know The Writer's Tower?

It started with a yumcha session with my bestie. As usual we talked about everything, and that day we ended up talking about a friend she got to know at her church.

"This guy posts funny stuff on Facebook all the time," She told me while showing me his profile. I wasn't really interested at first because after all, it's our differences that brought us together in the first place.

I thought it'd probably be some jokes so complicated that only engineers, scientists and doctors can understand.

(My bestie is an engineer.)

However as I read on I realize she was right - this guy really is funny!

Being the Facebook stalker that I am I decided to add him. It's good to have something to laugh at when you log on to Facebook. Jokes help us stay positive no?

It's hard not to get cynical reading about MH370 all the time.

And on one boring day I discovered that he started this group called The Writer's Tower, which brought the writer in me (who had died for five years) back to life.

This is my first post on The Writer's Tower.

*

Title : What’s Good for Skin?


Written for The Writer's Tower, April 2014


Theme : Ostrich Pee

175cm, 50kg, 34C, 24 inch waist, 34 inch hips, fair skin, big eyes, pouty lips with long smooth wavy hair, this modelling friend of mine - Ariel is no doubt a head turner - with or without makeup. With a successful modelling career, a seemingly happy marriage and a bunch of men who are dying just to be her slave, she is the envy of all girls and the sex fantasy of all men.

Correction : She is the envy of all girls and the sex fantasy of all men who do not know her personally.

John had complained about Ariel to me almost every time when we hang out at Movida.

"I wish I had married a fat, ugly, dark woman," he sighed.

I remained silent. I know what's coming. This conversation had repeated itself countless times that I can memorize it backwards.

"I think sex would be more enjoyable with an ugly chick," John would continue. I don't have to say a thing - all he needed is a listener. Somebody who can listen to him complaining about how Ariel would stop him from ejaculating because it is time for Ariel to take her beauty sleep, or to apply a hydrating mask, and how he had to resort to masturbating because Ariel would not have sex with her on certain days of the month because "having sex on these days is bad for my skin!", or how Ariel would not experiment on certain sexual poses that he had been dying to try because "it is bad for my posture, you are ruining my modelling career!"

As for us ladies, yes we do admire Ariel's beauty, but it had never been fun hanging out with Ariel.

"Oh my God it's 9.30pm already!" she would yell suddenly in the middle of our karaoke session. "I must go home and sleep. I don't want to have dark circles!"

And she'll never join us for cycling at Putrajaya or hiking at Broga because she can't bear the thought of getting dark.

She does not drink, she does not smoke, she does not eat desserts because they are too fattening, she dips pieces of barbequed meat into green tea so she would not be absorbing fats that she does not need.

But that's not all.

She will do anything - I mean anything - to stay beautiful.

Her latest obsession is ostrich meat.

"It's rich in iron, something which all ladies desperately need as we lose so much blood every month," she told us as she bit into ostrich burger. "It's also rich in protein which really helps us maintain our muscles, and the best of all, it is incredibly low in fat!"

Those of us who are adventurous when it comes to food gave it a try and they gave us an expression which clearly shows "I was so wrong to think that smelly tofu is the worst thing on Earth."

A month had passed since Ariel started her ostrich diet. Just when we thought she could not come up with something worse, she managed to exceed our expectations.

"It is not enough to eat ostrich meat," she said, as she swirled her wine glass (which we wrongly assumed it to contain champagne), "We have to drink ostrich pee as well."

We almost choked to death.

"That's ostrich pee in your glass?" Jessica asked in disbelief.

Ariel nodded as she took a sip from her glass. "Ostrich pee is highly nutritional. Although it has not been proven scientifically, I have reliable source of information telling me that ostrich pee contains plenty of collagen, which is very good for our skin. I am now applying ostrich pee mask daily to maximize the effect."

We almost died of disgust.

Another month passed and surprise surprise, instead of having baby smooth skin, Ariel actually had a breakout. Her skin was so unprecedentedly horrible. We couldn't help but to laugh when she's not around. Whoever her "reliable source of information" is, we thank him or her for giving us something to laugh at.

Oh, and isn't it human nature to feel good when we see something better than us is finally falling down? Hmm, the sense of satisfaction is so great, all of us are in such good mood that if we somehow drop dead instantly, we will have no regrets.

Surprisingly a month later Ariel's skin improved drastically. Her skin was super smooth - even smoother than before.

"I thought ostrich pee didn't work? What other secret ingredient are you using this time? Snail serum? Gold?" I was just too curious. I had to know.

"Oh, ostrich pee DID work," Ariel smiled mysteriously. "I misunderstood the meaning of ostrich pee. When my friend told me ostrich pee, I thought she meant ostrich pee literally. Turned out it wasn't. What was good for women's skin is actually peeing ostrich."

My eyes widened. "You mean fresh ostrich pee? As in, you consume it as the ostrich is peeing?"

Ariel's mysterious smile got even more mysterious. "My dear, you are so naive! Peeing ostrich is an erotic sexual position."

I can foresee that John will stop complaining about Ariel to me.