R.I.P. My Friend.

I got back this afternoon, turned on the tv and watched a slew of Japanese animations on satellite tv to blow off some steam. We had a meeting earlier this morning and I hate to be burdened with paperwork. But that will be another story.

So I lazily took my iPad, Paddington from the coffee table and flicked on Facebook as I watched the cartoons. Hurm... As I went through some messages and a few tagged photos, one status update caught my eyes as it began with condolences...

A friend is spreading the news that one of my alumni guys was involved in a grave accident and was dead on the spot. He was grazed by a car while riding his superbike, fell and was hit by a trailer behind him. He was dragged under the heavy vehicle for a very long distance.

His head was crushed by the tyres.... I have seen these because there were pictures of the accident and the body all over the news and the internet. Horrible terrible pictures.

This guy used to bunk next to me when we were in boarding school. We weren't that close (mainly because I was the resident psychopath and social leper all rolled into one) but we did get along well. He was a funny guy, had a lot of close friends and very active in sports.

He was married, and had a three year old kid. I never knew his family because we drifted apart after boarding school. But I got a glimpse of him once in a while in Facebook when some friends uploaded the pictures of their activities, mainly futsal and alumni dinner (which I never attended).

He was my age, 33. So much promises and vigor, yet cut short by fate.

Sometimes I felt that I can live forever... But at a moment like this, the thought of our own mortality is a very bleak road to go.

Rest in peace my friend. I will always remember your smiles way back in school.

I Love You Ex-Granny In Law.

For those who know me and followed my blog, you should know already that I divorced my wife at the end of July, this year. I never met her since, but hell, this entry is not about that poisonous bitch.

Her grandmother, my mother-in-law's mother passed away yesterday... She was such a sweet old woman, one of the nicest I ever encountered. The first time I met her, she hugged and wished me to be one of the family forever. And I was genuinely happy to be accepted by the matriarch of the family.

The dear old lady was talkative and supportive. She laughed at my jokes, and always happy to see me around. It pained me greatly not to be able to attend her funeral, nor visit her when she was still alive after the divorce.

I knew she was heartbroken when knowing about the divorce. (I hope the slut of a girl who was once my wife got what she deserves).

I've shed some tears for you, and I hope you are in a better place. You will always be my favourite elder lady... Semoga aman Nenek di sana.

Stressed Out Maxima

.... was thinking of committing suicide today... but I thought of the promises I made and the few people who really love me...

I should clean up my act.

And yes, I have no aspiration to be more than an ordinary teacher.

The Angriest Day Of My Life (2009)

Anger is a daily emotion occurrence for me. Sometimes I could be constantly angry at things / people, busy plotting evil schemes for revenge, and I'd be blind to the big picture. It's petty, but I think I like to be angry. It drives me (maybe sometimes crazily).

Anyway, last night I was angry enough to commit murder or arson (maybe both). The previous entry poem stated that I was angry with a particular girl (NOT my significant other) and surprise, surprise, it's the same b**ch that stoked my inner fire AGAIN.

You see, she owed me some money and was REALLY REALLY tardy about paying back.

When someone wants to borrow money from you; he'd badgered you, sometimes stuck at you like a limpet to be close. He'd whine, wanting you to pity him, and of course always be in contact (via phone or email) asking when he can expect the help. This is the usual modus operandi and I was barraged such by this ex-girlfriend of mine.

And as a generous sucker, I gave her 70% of the amount she wanted, hoping she'll go away.

And that's what she did.

And when the time arrived for her to pay (two weeks ago), she made herself scarce. She never answered my calls or replied my messages. Every failed attempts to contact her made me angrier than ever. I just HATE people who lied to me.

And then yesterday evening, the BITCH suddenly called and asked me to come to town and get my money. I asked a friend to accompany me (who knows she'd sent hit-men to take care of me, this is a dangerous world after all) and I arrived on the designated place on time.

The girl wasn't there, and I waited half an hour, but she never showed up!

I called her handphone and NATURALLY I was introduced to her voice message. You can imagine my gargantuan anger for being played yet again.

BITCH!!!!!

I felt like driving to her house and slaughter her and her entire family with the hooked knife I have in my dashboard. My friend expressed his horror and asked me to just forget the whole thing and drive back home. He's asking me to just let go of the money.

That's what friends are for. To stop you from doing things you'd extremely regret later.

So I left a message in both her voicemail and sms. "I'd gut you like a fish if I ever see your face ever again. Your words are worth shit and you will die screaming, if you continue doing this to the wrong people. You are mud under my feet. Rot in hell."

After that, I do feel better. Cursing people is a special branch of talent for teachers who embraced the Dark Side of the Force.

Murder On the 3rd Day of Aidilfitri

My brother (left) and uncle. Notice his dexterity with that very sharp axe as he cut up the evidence of the dastardly deed!!

Head of the poor goat used in the terrible bloody pagan ceremony!!

The Mastermind : My own mother, she's a mafia boss at her best.

The Assassins : My youngest brother (codename Kopet) and uncle.

The Victim : Molly

The Grevious Party : My middle brother (codename Bobo).

The Cheer Squad : The rest of the family, extensions included.

Molly was my brother's nanny goat, one of the huge Jamnapari type, which can weight around 90 to 120 kg. This particular she goat was being a bad mother by not letting her two kids suckling her. By refusing to do so, her udder and stomach became bloated. Molly was already on her way to the Big Paddock in the sky.

So this afternoon, my mother woke her youngest son and told him to sharpen some machetes. "Go and find your uncle. We are going to slaughter that goat." So Kopet drove to the home-village (where the goats are) and we (my mom and me) arrived there an hour later.

The goat was already slaughtered (see the head) and Kopet and my uncle were busy chopping out the meat and bones outside the kampung house. My other brother, Bobo was clearly sulking nearby and Kopet mentioned many times that Bobo cried twice after the goat was killed. He loves his goats that well. (As for me, I feel nothing. Goats are huge and smelly creatures).

So my mum and aunt busied themselves with the crockery and pots. The bones were boiled into soup and the mutton cooked 'masak lemak kuning'. Two of my favourite dishes.

The verdict; The yummiest dish ever! We should kill... er... get more mutton each year.

P.S - This is one QUIET Raya for me. But I like it that way.

Hello Dad

Visited dad yesterday, on the first day of Ramadan, the fasting month. The cemetery was very quiet in the evening, and the grass were dying in the hot sun, severely ended by the herbicide sprayed last week by the caretaker.

I rarely visit my father's grave, though he is only less than a 5 minute drive away. If my mom didn't prompt me the other day, I might continue through life without remembering him (much).

So I visited him, cleaned up around his gravestones and had a mental chat with him; about me being divorced, his expectation of me coming true - a not so devout son with indifference to life, about my lost LG cable etc etc. He didn't answer. So what do you expect?

So here's a pic of the cemetery, with my Dad's grave foremost. And no, I don't feel anything about being alone in a place filled by dead bodies. In fact I did real photography sessions at some Chinese tombs because of my fascination with their ancient statues.

Bye Dad. We will meet again.

Musings Near Midnight

I always consider myself to be a morbid and heartless person. So I can imagine killing people I hate in real life and not feeling bad about it later. I don't believe in the crap that murdering can tarnish your soul. Or something even more foolish; Killing can tear the soul into two (from the Harry Potter series).

But this post is not about ending lives (before the rest of you run screaming to the nearest police stations). This is only a self study of me by my ownself. If I was born during the Middle Ages, I never see myself as a great king of people. I'd rather be someone behind the throne, preferably a Duke's or even a lowly baron's. [Working for royalty can be hazardous for the health, and the lowly nobles do appreciate their people better because they cannot spare any].

And what shall I do around the place? Of course I am the bloody executioner! Oh and the Inquisitor too! Two very unpopular jobs in any castle, any country, any century. [Thus they wore masks to avoid being recognized. It's very hard to go to the local market for a plum bun when everybody ran away from you].

Bah, I am rambling... lack of fresh air in this humid room.

Eh, come to think of it... Lawyers and tax gatherers are more hated by the people. Urm.

Anyway, back to chopping heads and torturing people. I think death by hanging is SO BORING. But people like to watch a bit of some hemp fandango of the dying man. I think as there was no tv back then, a hanging must be prime entertainment for the peasants. Beheading is much more interesting. We can lay bets on how far the fountain of blood goes. :)

Cutting people's body parts off bit by bit is somewhat I learn from the many mafia movies I watch. It will do you wonders having your own fingers in your shirt pocket WITHOUT the hands in it. I can always make people sing like a canary (if I can get away with the process).

I think the iron maiden is so cool. The torture device, not the girl, ok?

Wha? wha? Who wrote this??!! (in mock horror!!) I swear I didn't type this at all.

Of Walls and Happy Thoughts...

I don't make friends easily as people around me noticed. And my forbidding aura of utter dislike and superiority drives many away. Psychiatrists mention a 'wall' around people, more magnified around 'special' persons like me.

To be my friend, you have to climb / tear down / ignore that wall.

Anyway I met a stranger for drinks today. Yes, I do TRY to socialize outside my occupation scope (teachers can be boring friends). We talked and we had an instant liking of each other. Nope, not sexually. And heaven forbids if I found another evil minded demon to be my new partner in crime. I DO like to befriend nice people, at least my life would not always full of gloom, doom and other things that end with 'oom'.

Befriending nice people makes me feel... well, nicer. And I am a heinously sinful person to start with.

Well, we talked and talked and time really flies when you are enjoying good company. He never disagrees with me and a complementer, meaning he fills in whatever I carelessly left open. Not judgmental. Leave the judging to me.

I found a new best friend.  And he lives quite near too! Better still, we are related.

Tomorrow evening, I'll be accompanying him to his friend's father funeral ceremony. Anything for somebody who made me happy. :)

The Real X-Files (Because Inky Asked Me To Tell)

I never met a real ghost, evil spirits or any type of friendly poltergeist (or not). But I had experienced two unexplained phenomena when I was like 9 or 10 years old, in my primary school compound, a long long time ago. But those memories will never fade, because they are authentic paranormal activities. 

1. The Brownish Flying Thing

My mom was a library teacher in the same school I attended. So she would spend extra long time in the library after school to do stock checking or whatever librarians did at closing time. I would be left alone amusing myself around school, and I must stress this - ALONE. Nobody in the right mind would loiter around when school is out, right? But I had to, because my mom drove me home.

So one very hot afternoon, I was walking around the deserted classroom block and found a broomstick lying against the wall by a corner. I gave the broom a kick and walked around the corner to get to the library. As I was walking and feeling so sorry about myself (because I was so damn bored) something flew from behind, went past me and zoomed at incredible angle at the far corner of the building - out of sight.

Immediately I gave chase because, even at a very young age, I was a rabid monster and loved to catch and torture birds. I went around the building twice, and - zoom! There it was again, flying so fast from behind and turned at the other corner of the building. I was angry because this huge long and brown bird seemed like to mock me, by flying so close - it almost touched me. I kept on running to catch that damn animal.

I was sweating and panting when I gave up chasing the accursed flying creature. Then I realized that I was standing at the same spot I kicked the broomstick off the wall. The broomstick wasn't there anymore...  And it occured to me that the flying thing I was chasing was too long and too big to be a mere bird. I told my mother about it and she said I was storytelling. Erm...  

2.  The Red Beyond The Fence

The second incidence happened at the school field, very late in the afternoon, at the end of our Sports Day. I was cute, with Damien-like haircut and was dreadfully bored at the edge of the field because I HATED sport (and still am). My friends and teachers were having a good time shouting and screaming at a football match which I never bother which team vs which team.

So I walked to the wire fence at the end of the school's field and peered into the gloom. At that time, there were still huge rubber trees with dense bushes underneath growing beyond the fence. In the dim light, I saw crude tombstones underneath and among the bushes. I had to look carefully, and there were a lot of them. Nope, I was not afraid of graves if you wonder.

Then something dropped from above and fell in front of me, beyond the fence. A drop of dark red fluid. I wasn't alarmed because I thought maybe some bird was shitting up there. Then, the red liquid began to drop like crazy on the leaves of the bushes in front of me - very convincing, and if I know much better, the special effect was an honour to Grade-A horror movies. (At that age, I never watched any scary movies yet).

This specific rain of red stuff got me frowning and I peered up in to the trees. Nothing. There was nothing in the gloom to be the source. I was thinking that maybe the gardener had pitched some leftover red paint in the bushes... but heck, I know what red paint looked like. And these drops looked like blood... I wasn't screaming or doing sissy things actors do in a scary movie, ok!

A friend shouted my name, asking me to walk back with him. I left the fence, walked to my mom's car and as usual, not telling her about it.

But the next day I asked an older Chinese male teacher who had a shine on me (ultimate teacher's pet, remember?) about the tombstones in the bushes, beyond the fence. He said that the graves belonged to British and Japanese soldiers who fought a battle at the very site, way before Independence. Grave sharing - gosh!

Now the tombstones are no more, and two flats for teachers are now in place.

So folks, there you have it, two real paranormal events I experienced myself. Please do not insult your own intelligence by asking; hey, wasn't ghosts supposed to go out at night? A real occultist will tell you that spirits are more prone to roam during extreme hours of the day, like twilight, dusk and 12 o'clock in the afternoon. Midnight is actually quite safe!

Now Inky, tell me what you have seen that is out of this world.

p.s. - some of you might not believe me. But seriously, I was fearless as a child. The only things I was scared of were shiny sharp objects and my father.

I Spotted A Serial Killer (Seriously)

I was driving to town this evening when I saw this guy, on a motorbike in front of me at a traffic light.

His got BLOOD spray all over his shirt! I knew it was real because as an accomplished evil person, I trained myself to recognize life's own fluid. Oh you know, it'll be a professional embarrassment if we jumped to conclusions.

For example; I can smell Inky blood through the computer monitor and knew she faked it.

And I realised seconds later the logo at the back of his yellow shirt. It was of a chicken.... Well, I was right about the blood anyway.

Took the picture of the chicken slaughterer for further proof.

Who knows? One day he might thinking of upgrading to kill people, and I'll be there with evidence of his dastardly deed. :)