Calamari Impossible

Please Wait.

2011-09-03T14:18:00.000+08:00

Waiting is awesome.

Wait. No.

I meant awful.

I don't know about you, but I've never seen anyone happy to be waiting for anything. Think of places you usually find people waiting.

Airports.
Bus stops.
Clinics.
In front of their laptop after pressing F5.

In visual arts if you want to convey a person waiting, just have him looking pissed off and glancing at a time-keeping device of some kind.
Don't ask for the time from this person. He might let you know loudly that it's not time yet. There is still time to kill. And he has been waiting forever.

Etc.

I remember one time I had to wait for my mom to pick me up from school. Being the anxious grade schooler I was, I'd never be able to just sit still in that one spot my mom told me to. Whaddya want, I was eight or something.

On that school there was this one-way stretch of road right out front where the buses and the cars and all manner of motorized CFC-coughing metal boxes would pass through, their respective drivers squinting for the correct brat to take home and wash.

Soon after the bell rings, I would start walking from one end where the huge gutter thing would be. This gutter place was also where the ice-cream man would park. Idk why he parked there. Senang nak buang sampah eskrem kot.

I'd then march all the way to the other side of the road where the school gates were. Once I reached the end of the road I'd then trek all the way back to the paddle pop guy. This allows me to scan the cars for my mom's. Even though I knew she'd only be coming from one side of the road, and it'd be easier for me to just stay put, I felt it'd be better for me to not listen to her and walk around back and forth like an idiot just in case.

Most days, she won't be too long. I had learnt to tell time a while before I started grade school and have deduced that she'd be there usually at around 8 minutes past 1, give or take.

Some days tho, she'd be a little late. During these days I'd get a little more anxious and start thinking of weird things that might've caused this lateness.

Did she get lost?
Did she forget to pick me up and drove straight home?
Did she have to work really late and had no way to tell me beforehand?
Did she already pick me up and I'm now sleeping in the car and this is all a dream?
Did I just step on a frog? Oh no it's that green popsicle wrapper. I just had one but maybe I'll buy another. I like popsicles.

I didn't have a very good attention span when I was eight.

Looking at the mess of cars as I paced back and forth would be a special kind of torture. All the sagas and wiras would suddenly look like my mom's. Every giant lady who walks up to a kid would be my mom picking up some smarter, better child to take home. Every yell calling out to a kid would be my mom's reassuring voice, telling me to "Cepatlah masuk kereta, yang ko berkawad kat situ buat ape?"

Slowly, one by one the cars would leave and the noise would quiet down. The ice-cream man takes a breather and sits down on his bike. The last of the school buses would lazily chug away out of sight. You could even see some of the teachers' cars drive off. The remaining kids would be lazily sauntering, tucking their shirts out of their pants, sitting on the grass, throwing rocks into the longkang.

These kids, in my head, were the forgotten. The kids their parents don't care to pick up early. The ones who can't care less if they get home. The kids who actually prefer being at school in their uniform compared to whatever unspeakable horrors waiting for them at home. Chores, maybe.

These kids would be hanging out with each other, accepting their fate. Brought together through a sense of camaraderie from always having to stay in school just a little bit longer than the rest of their friends.

and then there's me.

I'd be apprehensive of talking to them and making friends. They seem to know each other already. The emptiness of the school seemed to magnify the fun they're having by themselves and I didn't have the confidence to try and join in on that.

This one day I had to stay at school until 2. I remember thinking how crazy that was. The minute hand went all the way back to where it was when the bell rang.

All the other always-leave-lates are off on one end of the school playing some loud game of pole-tag so I decided to sit at one of the empty benches in the school canteen, which now looks enormous without all the kids. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed this Chinese kid wearing glasses. He was sitting by himself too, so I thought I'd talk to the guy. Maybe we can start hanging out and play our own loud games. That'll teach those other kids.

I moved over to sit next to him. I noticed he was reading a catalog or pamphlet of some sort.

Me: Hai.

Glassesboy: Hai.

Me: Tak balik rumah lagi ke?

Glassesboy: Lama lagi. Ayah saya datang lambat sikit hari ni dia kata.

Me: Oh. Apa awak baca tu?

Glassesboy: Ni? Ni gambar mainan. "Toy-Res".

So we sat there and looked through the Toys'Я'Us catalog and talked about our favorite toys. It was then that a green Nissan Serena drove up to the front gate and honked. It was my dad. Turns out today my mom really did have to stay at work late and couldn't tell me. I hurriedly waved goodbye to my new friend and soon I was buckling up next to my dad.

Bapak: Muz borak pasal ape dengan kawan muz tu?

Me: Pasal mainan.

Bapak: Ha. Nak beli mainan lagi la tu. Kat rumah kan ada banyak mainan.

Me: Tapi kalau muz beli sendiri boleh kan?

Bapak: Tunggu raya nanti la bila ko ade duit.

I hate waiting.

“Hari Putih”

2010-03-14T21:56:00.005+08:00

Helmi baru sahaja berjalan masuk ke pintu automatik KLIA. Dia menoleh ke jam tangannya. Pukul 3:30 pagi. Angin di luar yg sejuk tadi terasa lebih panas nak dibandingkan dengan hawa dingin dalam KLIA ni, fikir Helmi.

Dalam lapangan terbang ni selalu terasa macam bukan Malaysia. Cantik sangat. Bukan nak kata interior bangunan-bangunan di Malaysia ni buruk-buruk belaka, cuma selalunya tak secomplex ni. Helmi mendongak ke siling. Bentuk alunan permukaannya dan cara sudut-sudut bertemu di tiang mengingatkan dia akan bumbung kanopi kenduri Pak Cik Qasim tempoh hari. Bunyi tapak-tapak kasut yang berdetak atas lantai mengalih pemandangan Helmi ke bawah. Lantai dia pun cantik. Berkilat. Macam pusat beli belah pun ada.

“Memang pusat beli belah pun,” kata Helmi sambil mengimbas pandang sederet kedai yang menjual segala macam ole-ole last minute. Dia ternampak kedai coklat. “Alamak. Ade kedai coklat,” bisik Helmi sambil bergegas ke arah kedai tu, meraba-raba poket seluarnya, “Bawak duit ke tak ek?”

Di satu sudut KLIA pula, Julia sedang duduk di meja McDonald's sendirian. Dia sedang membelek-belek telefon bimbitnya. Sekali-sekala dia menoleh ke jam tangannya.

“Mana ada orang makan malam pukul 3:45 pagi,” fikir Julia. Dia menjenguk kiri-kanan. Ada dua orang lain yang sedang makan. “Hm. Sahur kot,” keluh Julia. “Aku ni pun satu. Tiket time-time macam ni jugak yang nak diambilnya. Pastu mintak dia datang pulak. Mengadanya kau ni Juuu..,” sambungnya sambil tertunduk.

“Oi, tido ka?” bunyi suara Helmi yang dah terduduk bertentangan dengan Julia.

Julia mengangkat kepalanya perlahan. “Yelaa.. dah pagi-pagi buta ni haa..” katanya, tersenyum.

“Sorry lambat. fifteen minutes je pun,” Helmi menayangkan beg plastik ke arah Julia, “Coklat.” sambungnya, tersengih.

“You memang. Coklat tak habis-habis,” Julia meneliti bungkusan coklat tu. “Eh, ‘Mickey Mouse’! I beli jugak, tapi yang 'Minnie Mouse' punya.”

“Haaa~ comel, kan? Memang kalau coklat kena beli la. Nak-nak time tengah discount macam sekarang ni. Ingatkan nak beli ‘Mickey’ dengan ‘Minnie’ sekali, tapi tak cukup duit. Hehe.”

“Kenapa ada discount ek? Ada apa event ke hari ni?”

“Entahla,” jawab Helmi sambil meletakkan bungkusan coklatnya di bawah meja. “Nak habiskan lebihan coklat yang tak dijual waktu Valentine's hari tu kot.”

“Oh. Ha'ah ek. Patutla ramai orang belikan coklat.”

“Untuk kau?”

Julia tersenyum, mengangguk.

“Going away present pun bagi coklat je. Dapat, makan, habis,” kata Helmi, mencebik.

“At least sedap. You punya hadiah ape je. Kad.” kata Julia, mencebik mengajuk Helmi.

Helmi tersengih. “Handmade, ok? Siap pop-up lagi,” Helmi menoleh kiri-kanan. “Kau cakap orang belikan kau coklat.. Derang dah balik? Lambat sangat ke aku datang ni?”

“Derang yang datang awal. Nik, Adam, Lisa semua-semua dah balik dah pun.” jawab Julia lalu menyedut sedikit Coke daripada cawannya.

“Iya? Alaa. Lama sangat tak jumpa derang la,” keluh Helmi.

“Hm.” balas Julia ringkas, sambil menggigit straw.

“Last time semua orang kumpul sekali time kiterang prank Zul. Ingat lagi tak?”

“Ingat!”

“Kiterang tukarkan wallet dalam poket dia dengan wallet orang yang kena curi tu. Haha. Best gila.”

“Eh, ape kiterang pulak. I eh yang buat. You all mana reti nak seluk-seluk poket orang ni..”

“Hahaha.. ha'ah. Betul, betul. Bab tukarkan barang orang memang kena panggil kau je, Ju. Orang lain memang tak setanding. Haha”

“Tapi kalau you takde untuk menyamar as pickpocket tu memang takkan jadi punya la.”

“Ahaaa.. ohh.. erm.. We made such a good team.”

“Yes, we did.”

“Memang kau mempunyai jari dan tangan yang sangat cekap. Sampai sekarang pun. Job offer overseas untuk jadi pakar neurosurgery. Kan?”

“Yup,” balas Julia sambil matanya memandang tepat ke Helmi.

Helmi membalas renungannya. “Dah lama sangat tak berbual macam ni, kan?”

Julia mengangguk perlahan.

“Hmm.”

“Ingat tak waktu sekolah rendah dulu? You ajak I main badminton, tapi I takde raket.”

“..pastu aku pegi rumah Kugan mintak pinjam raket dia..”

“..then I tercampak raket tu sampai dalam semak..”

“..kita tak berani nak ambik sebab Pak Cik Qasim kata situ ada ular..”

“..Kugan kejar I sebab dia nak balik raket dia..”

“..pastu aku cakap aku sebenarnya yang baling raket tu kat semak..”

“..and then he said”

“Lu kasi ular makan saya punya raket, saya makan awak punya raket!” jerit Helmi dan Julia, serentak.

Mereka berdua ketawa terbahak-bahak. Juruwang McDonalds dan pelanggan lain menoleh ke arah Julia dan Helmi. Helmi pura-pura batuk.

“Erm. Okla, Ju. Rasanya dah nak kena balik ni. Rin dari tadi tunggu dalam kereta. All the best, k?”

“Thanks, Mi.” balas Julia. Helmi berdiri. Julia menghulurkan bungkusan coklat yang dibeli Helmi tadi. “Jangan lupa your chocolate.”

“Oh, thanks. Hampir terlupa.”

“I'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you, too.” balas Helmi sebelum berjalan pulang.

* * *

Rin sedang menunggu Helmi dari dalam kereta. Helmi membuka pintu dan duduk di tempat duduk lalu memulas kunci kereta untuk menghidupkan enjin. “Nah,” katanya kepada Rin sambil menghulurkan bungkusan ke pangkunya, “Coklat.”

“Oh! you bagi sebab March 14th, eh?”

“Ha? I bagi suka-suka je. Kenapa March 14th?”

“Eh, tak tahu ke? White Day la. Guys give girls chocolate one month after February 14th pulak sebab on Valentine's Day, girls yang bagi guys chocolates.”

“I tak pernah dengar pun.”

Rin ketawa kecil, “It's a Japanese thing.”

“Heh. Tak habis-habis.”

“Waaaaa~ ‘Mickey Mouse!’”

“Comel, kan?”

“‘Minnie Mouse’ pun adaaa~ Aww, how sweeet!”

“ku cin tai ku cin”

2010-02-09T17:51:00.009+08:00

Waktu tu pukul 12 pagi agaknya. Entah. Tak brape pasti. Dah biasa sangat tido lewat. Tapi yang pasti waktu tu memang da malam da. Waktu tu la dia telefon.

Saiful: Wei aku dah kat luar ni.
Aku: Mm.

Oh ye. Hampir terlupa. Hari ni nak pergi tengok The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus

Aku pun keluar bilik dan masuk kereta satria neo kawan aku sorang ni.

Saiful: Nak singgah kedai jap ah. Ko dah makan?
Aku: Belum. Orait gak boleh makan2 sket.

Sampai je kat kedai makan dua orang lagi sahabat handal da sedia berborak di meja makan. Muka kenyang.

Aku: Uit. Dah kenyang da ke? Bukannya nak tunggu member. Chet.
Hairi: Sori ah brader. Da lapa. Nak buat camne. Ye dak?

Alif: Ko yang lambat.
Saiful: Tu ah pasal. Aku tunggu dia ni tahape dia buat kat tandas tu ha.

Aku: Bilamasa plak aku kat tandas.
Saiful: Ko cakap.

Lupa pulak waktu dia telefon tadi tu memang aku kat toilet pun. Hah. Tumpas di situ.

Hairi: Order ah.
Aku: Uiks. Bunyi macam nak belanja je bang.
Hairi: Bunyi je. Guruh di langit jangan disangka akan hujan.
Aku: Bermadah pulak ko kat sini.

Selalunya dekat kedai makan yg ala2 mamak ni.. takde ape pilihan yg merangsang jiwa sangat. Semua hidangan da ditetapkan mengikut piawai persatuan kedai2 makan seMalaysia (PerKEMAS). Ok mana ada sebenarnya. Tapi korang tak rasa musykil ke? Semua gerai makan ade je Nasi Goreng Pattaya, Mi Goreng Mamak, Teh Tarik, semua kedai mesti ada. Kalau mintak tengok menu mesti brader tu buat muka.

“Order je la bang.”

Aku: Nasi Goreng Padprik.

Betul ke aku eja tu? Bukan Paprik ke? Entahla. Thai ma. Tak reti aku. Waktu aku sedang sebok mengorder aku perasan yg member2 aku nih da rancak berborak da.

Aku: Amende korang ngarut ni?
Hairi: Pasal kucing.

Aku: Kenapa dengan kucing?
Hairi: Ko tak suka kucing ke Mozek? Aku suka. Comel :3

Alif: Ha iyela ko. Ko bukan suka buli kucing aku ke?
Hairi: Eh eh ehh.. Kucing ko yg suka buli aku ada ah.

Hairi angkat lutut dia sebelah, tapak kaki atas kerusi. Macam Ah Beng.

Hairi: Kucing ko comel wei, tapi kughang hajo.

Aku tergelak sket. heh.

Hairi: *toleh ke aku* Ade ke patut dia gi membuang kat atas katil aku? Tak bertimbang rasa betul..
Alif: Hahahahahaha~ Mana aku tahu, aku bukannya boleh kawal proses nyahtinja dia. Heheh

Hairi: Ko nasib baik kucing ko comel. Kalau tak dah lama aku campak.
Saiful: Apa ko buat kat kucing tu, lepas dia tinggalkan hadiah untuk ko?

Hairi: Aku sepak dia ah.
Alif: Melompat kucing tu, hahaha
Aku: Ganas betul korg ni.

Waktu ni makanan aku da sampai.

Hairi: Aku bukan sepak betul2. Dia gaya dia lain. Aku letak kaki aku kat perut dia pastu aku angkat.
Alif: Ala.. macam main futsal? Hahaha

Saiful: Kepala hotak ko macam main futsal, tak terburai pulak kucing tu ko terajang cam bola. *geleng kepala*
Hairi: Takde ah.. dah kucing tu kughang ajo. Nak wat cemana. Kena la ajo.

Terasa geli kat kaki aku. Ha. Macam tahu2 je orang sebut pasal keturunan dia. Lapar kot binatang ni.

Hairi: Korang cakap macam aku sorang je yang pernah menganiaya kucing. Ko, Alif? Tanak cite ke ape ko buat kat kucing ko aritu?
Alif: Er.. tak payah la. Aku bukannya buat ape sangat pun..

Hairi: Dia pegi ludah dalam mulut kucing dia *minum air*
Saiful: Hahahahhahahah~ Ko biar betul?
Alif: Dah dia gi membuang kat dalam safety boot aku! Tensyen ah. Aku bukannya jenis sepak terajang. Aku mmg emotional trauma terus aku bagi dia.
Aku: Korang ni gila.

Kucing kat kaki aku dari tadi merengek mintak dinner. Tahu la dia tu kucing. Buat muka comel plak. Nah ayam padprik. Biar ko diam sket.

Saiful: Korang tak tahu pengalaman aku ngan kucing lagi best.
Hairi: Oh ye ke? Cite ko cemana la plak? Ade kait mengait dgn proses pembuangan najis?

Aku: Aku tengah makan oiiii

Saiful: Camni ha. Ko tahu kan bapak aku ade beli kucing sekor ni..
Hairi: Oh yeee~ Kucing ko yang kena culik tu eh?
Alif: Ko ni tak habis2 mencelah.

Saiful: Entah. Biarlah aku cerita. Ko ni.
Hairi: Ha yela yela ko cerita. Cerita2. *minum air*
Saiful: Ko dengar tak ni?

Aheh. Dia perasan aku cam mengelamun sket. Sambil makan sambil memain dgn kucing bawah meja ni ha.

Aku: Tengah makan la bai. Ko cite ah.
Saiful: Camni. Bapak aku ade beli sekor kucing ni.
Hairi: Persian.

Saiful: *pandang Hairi*
Hairi: Aku cume membantu je :|

Saiful: Bapak aku beli kucing Persian ni. Lawa gila.
Alif: Kucing Persian memang mahal, kan? Sebab bulu dia lawa ke ape ntah. Aku pun tak paham.
Saiful: Teori aku ialah lagi berbulu dan lagi penyek muka kucing tu, lagi mahal la harganya.

Aku: Ahahaha~ biar betul.
Saiful: Hahahaha, habis tu dah memang kucing Persian ni ade ciri2 tu.
Alif: Ha ok, ok. Teruskan.
Saiful: Kucing tu selalu bersiar-siar dekat luar kawasan rumah aku waktu petang. Kira dekat luar tu je la, luar pagar rumah.

Apesal aku order ayam padprik ni.. Tak best la kedai ni buat. Kenyang la ko malam ni, kucing..

Saiful: Selalunya malam tu kucing tu terus balik la cam biasa. Tapi satu hari tu dia takde pulak.

Alif: Itu je ke ceritanya?

Saiful: Itu je la.

Hairi: Tapi aku saspek mungkin ade orang culik. Kucing tu kalau jual tu mahal tu beb.
Saiful: Tu la. Sebab jiran aku ade nampak kucing tu pagi2 merayau dekat rumah sorang ni.
Hairi: Tapi waktu lain takde. Pagi je. Nak tuduh pun takde bukti sahih.

Alif: Bukti sahih eh? Ape ayat ko pakai ni..
Hairi: Yelaa bukti kukuh. Okay? Nak pakai ayat kreatif sket pun tak boleh.

Saiful: Ko, Mozek? Takde pengalaman menarik berkait dengan kucing?

Aku masih main dengan kucing tu gune kaki. Comel plak dia. Cis.

Aku: Ade sekali tu kucing masuk rumah aku makan piza. Dia tinggalkan roti je. Topping sume dia langsaikan.
Hairi: Wow. Bijak.

Alif: *ehem*

Aku: Eh, ape nama kucing ko yang hilang tu?

Saiful: Ermm.. “Britney”.

Kucing yang duduk bawah meja tadi terus meloncat ke riba Saiful.

Saiful: “Britney”!

Hairi O_O
Alif O_O
Aku O_O

Saiful ^_^

“Orange Note”

2010-01-05T00:27:00.012+08:00

“I've never been in a musician's house before,” said Nani. “He must have a lot of weird musical instruments inside.”

“Not necessarily,” said Wahid as he's driving them both to his friend's apartment. Sifar, a composer, wanted to give him his latest piece of recording to send to his studio for mastering.

“Does he have cool art at least? Maybe he's a collector or something..”

Wahid gave her a serious look.

“You're staying in the car, I don't want you stealing anything.”

“Hey, I resent that!” said Nani. “I hate it when you call it stealing. It makes me sound like a thief.”

Wahid opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Nani.

“It's not like I take their valuables or anything like that! I just like to take some souvenirs.. Like that time I took that flower from Jules' garden. It was only one flower! She had an entire garden! We don't have a garden, Wahid.”

He raised his hand in protest, “Yes, but—”

“..and that time when I took those chopsticks home from Nguyen's place, those were disposable chopsticks ok? He was going to throw them away anyway..” she continued with a huff.

“Well.. that doesn't mean that—”

“I just like to take a little piece of the person home with me. It's a gesture of affection.” she said with a sigh.

Wahid waited until he was sure she was done. “Okay..” he breathed. “I wouldn't mind if you do it with their permission. If you'd ask them nicely I'm sure they would be happy to let you ‘take a little piece of them home’ with you.”

“So what's the problem then?”

“The problem is that you do it discreetly. It's like you don't want to get caught doing it.. and since you take those stuff without their permission.. it is technically stealing.”

“It's not stealing.” she said, indignant.

“Well, whatever it is, I don't want you doing it,” said Wahid as he slows down their dark blue wira to a stop in front of an apartment block. “Just stay inside, this will be a quick one.”

“Hmph.”

“Afterwards we can go to McDonald's and I can get you a Happy Meal,” he said with a smile as he leaves the car.

Nani locked the car from the inside and turned on the radio before sticking her tongue out to Wahid.

Sifar was already waiting for him just outside.

“Salaam.” greeted Sifar. “I got your message. Sorry I didn't reply. I, uh, hadn't topped up my credit yet this month. Aheh.”

“No worries, man,” said Wahid as he let himself in. “You done with..what is it called..”

“Blow Me Away,” said Sifar, smiling, motioning for Wahid to enter the living room with him. “Sorry about the, erm, mess.”

Wahid entered and took a look around. The first thing he noticed was the mess he was talking about. In one corner there was a giant stack of books, notes, pieces of paper and artwork piled up to the ceiling. He looked at it for a few seconds before realizing that it was actually a bookshelf. The shelf part of it obscured behind sticky notes and thumbtacked bits of sheet music. In another corner was a large electronic keyboard which apparently doubled as a desktop with a jumble of books and more sheet music strewn about on top of it.

The rest of the apartment as far as Wahid can tell is no less of a mess. There was a grandfather clock right next to a digital mixer with more buttons than he could think up uses for, both sitting among a spaghetti of wires and miscellaneous cables spread out all over the floor. There were a few more end tables and stools all occupied with books and even more sheet music. He wasn't really bothered with the mess. He was more bothered about something else.

“No television? ” he thought aloud.

“I don't have enough money, heh.” answered Sifar, somewhat apologetically.

“No radio either..” he said as he looked around once more, just to make sure.

“That's uh.. that's a personal choice.”

Wahid cocked his eyebrows.

“I don't like.. erm.. when I listen to other peoples' music I worry that it might creep into my own work,” he said as he pointed to the sofa nearby, inviting Wahid to sit down. “Coffee?”

“Oh, no thank you.” said Wahid as he sat down on the sofa, which was the only piece of furniture that didn't look like too much of a mess. Save for a stack of magazines that was pushed to one side. “Speaking of your works, I just came here to pick up the latest version.”

Sifar let out a sigh. “See.. the thing about that is, uh..”

Wahid wasn't aware of it before, but now he's noticed that Sifar seems a little fidgety.

“I've been having some trouble finishing this latest one..” he said as he moves towards his bookshelf and started turning over some of his stacks of paper.

“I have a good intro..” he continued, moving over to the keyboard and shuffling about the papers. “..and a good chorus.. but..”

“You looking for something?” asked Wahid.

“Yes,” he answered, turning to face Wahid. “The buildup of the song is perfect, the tonal resonance fits the mood I wanted, but I just can't find the right way to end it,” he continued.

“No, I mean were you actually looking for something?” he said, getting up from the sofa. “You look like you lost your keys maybe. I can help you find it.”

“Huh?” said Sifar, his face blank.

“You were walking around and touching everything like you were looking for something, I don't know..”

“No no no.. please, it's okay,” he said as he picked up a book and shook it by the spine to see if anything would fall out. “Just... some cash.”

“How much?”

“A hundred Singapore dollars.”

Before he could say anything in response, the doorbell rang. Sifar went to answer it.

It was Nani. “May I use your bathroom?” she asked.

“Uh..”

“That's my friend, Nani,” said Wahid, a little embarrassed. “She was supposed to wait in the car,” he continued, glaring at her.

“Oh, uh.. right.. sorry. It's just through that door,” said Sifar.

Nani thanked him and scurried off to the bathroom.

“Sorry. She's a bit of a pain to have around. That's why I made her wait in the car. Ha.”

They both shared a chuckle.

“Hey, this reminds me of something,” said Sifar, giggling. “Do you know what the ‘brown note’ is?”

“What is it?” he asked.

“It's rumored to be uh, there's... supposedly this frequency that would cause people to lose control of their bowels. A note that can literally make you shit yourself.”

“No way. Because of the resonant frequency?”

“Yeah!” he replied with a laugh.

“Play that one at the end of your song, maybe it will get her out of the bathroom quicker!” he said as they both laughed.

Sifar removed a stack of files from on top of a stool in front of his keyboard so he can get comfortable on it. He took a deep breath and began playing a few melodies.

“Maybe that's what I need..” he said as his fingers kept playing.

“I can never get the hang of pianos,” said Wahid. “I can barely play Guitar Hero.”

Sifar started to repeat the last three bars he was playing, ending each one with a different flourish.

“Can never reach that darn orange note,” he continued, “My little finger just can't quite reach it. Especially if it's a really fast song,” said Wahid as he mimed playing the guitar with his hands.

Sifar stopped playing, but his hands are still on the keyboard, “I've, uh, never played Guitar Hero,” he said, without looking up. “Little finger..” he whispered to himself. He extended his pinky and played an E-major chord.

Wahid turned to look at him, his mouth open. Sifar kept his fingers where they were and grinned at him. “I found it,” he said slowly. “This is it. This completes it! This is exactly what the song needs!” his face glowing. “Okay, I'm going to uh, play that last measure, but I'll end it with that chord”.

Sifar played it and right at the end, he hit the keys with a bit more force than before. The sound echoed through the room and once it was silent, Sifar stood up from his stool.

“That gave me chills, man..” said Wahid quietly. “That must have been the resonant frequency of my brain.”

Sifar smiled widely. “I know, right? Heh.”

Just then, Nani emerged from the bathroom and walked in. “Hey, are you guys done?” she asked. “I know I am. Hehe.”

Sifar opened the front door, “I found it. Now I can finish it up by tonight and uh, send a copy to you first thing tomorrow morning,” he said, still smiling and slightly jumpy.

“Cool,” said Wahid as he exited the apartment with Nani. “See you tomorrow, man.”

Wahid and Nani walked back to the car. Wahid was still thinking about how lucky it was that Sifar found the right way to end his song. He also felt privileged to witness and be a part of his friends creative process. Nani had her hands in her pocket and was whistling a tune.

“What's that?” asked Wahid. “Sounds familiar,” he said as he opened the car door.

“Wasn't it the song he was playing?” she answered before continuing to whistle the tune.

“Oh yeah. Good ear.” he said as they both got into the car and started the engine.

Wahid didn't immediately shift the gear and start driving. He waited for the car to run for a bit before turning to Nani, “Did you steal anything?”

Nani stopped whistling. “I did not!” she insisted.

“Come on, be honest. Was it soap?”

“I didn't take anything.”

“Some toilet paper then,” he said as he made his way out of the apartment housing area.

“I didn't touch anything, I told you,” she replied, pouting her lips.

“Okay then. Let's go to McDonalds.”

“Oh, wait!” she slapped herself in the forehead. “I forgot. I found something.”

“I knew it,” he said with a smirk. “Well?”

“An orange note.”

Latih Tubi Penulisan: Geekonomics.

2009-12-22T22:47:00.006+08:00

Weekend baru ni, saya telah mendapat kesempatan untuk menghadiri Comic Fiesta. (dpt tix free sbb ~~ade booth yg show off a video game I made.~~ buat muka kesian :D)

Super Supian

Memang banyak benda best ada. Cosplayers, live drawing demonstration, doujins, industry seminar, costumed performance, macam-macam ah.

The whole experience kalau nak describe in one word: "Freakyintensegilaweiapehal".

Amek ko. Kena cipta perkataan baru terus. Agak surreal la, honestly. Ada certain babak2 yg hampir mustahil dilihat di luar comic fiesta. Di sini saya sertakan beberapa contoh:

Waktu sedang tekun mendengar talk daripada seorang ahli panel, toleh ke kiri dan ternampak storm trooper mundar mandir carik seat. Beliau juga berminat untuk mendengar tips dari veteran industri media mungkin.
Setelah penat berjalan, terasa ingin bersandar ke dinding. Dinding bergerak. Oh! Kotak susu gergasi rupanya.
Muz: Wah~ cantikla! Ambik gambar boleh?

French Maid: Boleh apa salahnya..

*tangkap gambar*

Muz: Kamu masuk cosplay competition ke nanti?

French Maid: Cosplay? Cosplay tu apa? Saya memang selalu pakai macam ni.

Muz: O_O *berundur perlahan*

Banyak lagi sebenarnya aksi2 menarik dan agak gila time kat comic fiesta tu. Belum cerita pasal performance lagi. Ada jugak pasal aksi2 cosplayers ni sebelum dan selepas comic fiesta, sewaktu derang berlegar2 di area lain sunway pyramid. hehe

Dari pemerhatian saya yang tak seberapa ni.. nampaknya macam cosplayers la yang paling dedicated ke"geek"iannya. Kostum yang diorang buat (jahit ke cat ke welding ke) semua derang buat sendiri. Rambut (palsu mahupun asli) didandan biar betul2 serupa dengan watak tu (berkaler dgn warna yang tak wujud dalam alam semulajadi dan kalau dah cacak tu habis tajam ah. boleh buat parut kelapa). Sampaikan ke mimik muka, suara dan postur pun kadang2 diorang ikut skali.

Memang hardcore.

Kehardcorean mereka2 ni kadang2 boleh menimbulkan rasa tak selesa terhadap sesetengah org.

"Ape masalah derang ni? Ade ke bazir duit beratus2 semata2 nak pakai baju macam kartun?"

"Korg ni macam budak2 la. Baca manga, tengok anime, tak cukup? Pakai baju pun nak macam derang jugak? Merepek la.."

etc.

Okay. Bagi derang ni, dressup2 as favourite character derang adalah hobi. Hobi apa pun mestilah makan duit dan masa. Takde ape salah pun kalau derang terasa nak pakai baju oren dengan pedang plastik tumpul yg diikat kat beg nike derang. They look ridiculous, true. Tapi derang takde nyusahkan org lain pun. And they're having fun apa. So why not, kan?

Kadang2 perhatikan derang ni syok gila borak pasal anime, main lawan2 pedang, gelak2 hepi2.. terasa cam cemburu pun ada.

Segeeky2 derang ni pun, ade je beratus org lain yg minat sama cam derang, hafal lagu anime cam derang, bercosplay cam derang (serius. tak silap aku aritu ade 3 ke 4 org Squall)

Ini membuktikan bahawa segila2 korg rasa diri korg ni..janganla berasa keseorangan. Mesti ada punya org yg segila korg. Cume korg kena cari je. Mhaha

Take The Wheel And Drive

2009-12-06T07:55:00.006+08:00

I love my mother a lot. I don't love her to death, but sometimes I wish I could.
(knowhatimean?)

This one's not about her, though. It's about me and my grossly limited ability to drive anywhere new.
I had to go to Kelana Jaya today and since I am notoriously horrible with navigation and finding my way to places, I asked her for directions.

She was in the kitchen that morning when I went to find her.

“Are you going out today?” I asked.

“I'm going to Malacca, right?” she asked me back. I guess she knows I'm training to be a psychic.

“No, it's just that I have to go to Kelana Jaya by 11 today.”

“Right,” she said. Continuing to chop up some onions.

“I was thinking of either taking the UKM komuter and switching to LRT at sentral..”

“Mm-hm.”

“..or driving there somehow. Should I park at sentral, or.. I mean what's the best way to go here?”

“You can just park at Kerinchi.”

“I know the Kerinchi Link, but.. you mean I should park at Kerinchi station?”

“No no, don't do that. Not that Kerinchi, the other Kerinchi.”

“Um.. I'm not.. I don't..”

“Get a pencil and paper.”

Whenever my mother asks me to go get a pencil and paper I always think of grocery lists. Somehow she doesn't believe that I can remember a list of 3 items. All 3 of which are different kinds of bread. “Remember to check the expiry date,” she would say. I only do that occasionally. But only because I once dug through the fridge and pantry and found (and have eaten) products that are so far past their date, the brand doesn't even exist anymore.

“Here you go,” I handed her a pen and paper on the table and turned on the light.

“Okay.”

The scene of me sitting on a table with my mother in front of a piece of paper and a pen on her hand brings back memories of when I was in primary school and she was teaching me.. something. I can't remember. Always listen to your mother, kids.

She started drawing from the edge of the paper.

“You know the Kerinchi Link, right?”

“Right,” I said, trying to remember if I'd seen a street sign that bears the name before.

“The one on your left when you enter the federal highway?”

“Yeah,” I said. Okay, on the left. I have to remember this.

“Do you know which one I'm talking about?” she asked again, drawing on the map the arrows and roads and circling ‘Kerinchi Link’.

“Yes, yes, I know how to take it,” I said. Keep left after entering the federal highway. Got it.

“Don't take it. That takes you to Damansara.”

“I'm not supposed to take it,” I said, trying to forget the mnemonic device I just made up to help me remember to take it.

“You go to Kampung Kerinchi, which is after that. There'll be an LRT station there, Universiti.”

“Ah. Alright then.”

“Remember: The ‘Universiti’ LRT takes you to Kerinchi, while the ‘Kerinchi’ LRT gets you to Bangsar.”

“Huh.”

“I know, it's very misleading.”

“But isn't there a 'Bangsar' LRT station? Where does that one take me?”

“You don't have to worry about that. You won't be taking it anyway.”

So I took the paper and went up to my room. My mother never gets lost (as far as I remember), so I should be fine with this. Just ignore the emphasis she put on Kerinchi Link and the map makes much more sense.

I can't help but think that maybe I should ask my father as well. He's asleep though. But I think I can figure out what he'll say.

“You have to be there at 11, right? Hmm.. What time is it?”

“730. Why?”

“Fill up your gas tank and finish your breakfast quick then. You will get lost, so best get a head start.”

So now I'm online, cross referencing the map my mother gave me with wikimapia, streetdirectory, and google maps on multiple tabs.

It's 745 now. I should probably start the car.

okayy.. where are we going, again?

“The Count of Monte Carlo / Sweet Lady Biscuits”

2009-08-06T08:47:00.005+08:00

Mustapha just came into the kitchen where his wife was making him a fresh pot of tea.

“Had a good day at work, dear?” she said.

He sat down on a chair near the kitchen counter, tired but still feeling talky.

“Well.. We got a new guy transferred to our department.” he said as he picked up a curry puff from the plate on the table and broke it in half.

His wife poured some tea for herself, but not before pouring out some for her husband and saying, “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He began eating one half of his puff. “He's a bit.. how do you say..”
he ended his sentence by flapping his hand in front of his face.

“A bit what?”

“You know..” he continued flapping, adding a grimace this time.

“Oh.” She sat down opposite her husband and picked up her cup. “He smells.”

“It's not B.O. though,” he said in between chews. “I think he just farts a lot.”

He offered the other half to his wife, who took it and set it down neatly on her plate.

He took a sip of his tea and asked, “How about you? Are we doing anything for the weekend?”

“Oh!” She perked up immediately. “As it turns out, we are. Remember our old friends Ibrahim and Alia? I'm thinking of inviting them over for tea tomorrow.”

He looked at her blankly.

“You know, Ibrahim. Our high school friend? You two used to play basketball together? We met them at that..”

“..thai restaurant last friday, I know,” he frowned slightly. “I'm just wondering why you would invite him over to our house. To my house. Him.”

“What's wrong with him? You two got along well that night.” she asked.

He heaved a sigh. “You're right. We used to play basketball together. Did you notice how the conversation was never about that? We played, sure. But never on the same team. We were rivals,” he clenched his fist and stared at it, ignoring his wife's rolling eyes. “I was being all smiles and cracking jokes because I thought that was going to be the last I'll ever see of the bugger. I don't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that I still hate him after all these years.”

“Oh, grow up Mus. You said it yourself, it happened years ago,” she started to get up to clear the table. “Besides, it's just basketball.”

“Whoa. Stop right there,” he stood up straight in his chair, almost standing up. “We weren't just rivals in the court, okay? It goes deeper than that,” he rolled up his left sleeve and pointed at a long mark across his elbow. “See this? It was him.”

She put her hands on her hips and said, “I was there when you got that. He bumped into you by accident.”

“As far as you can tell. He was laughing with his buddies back in the locker room after that game.” he rolled down his sleeves and leaned near the kitchen sink where she was cleaning up and said, “And that wasn't the only accident that happened to me. I'm telling you Sara, the guy had it in me ever since I accidentally sneezed on him at the school cafeteria the first time we met.”

“You know, I think I'm going to make a nice batch of brownies tomorrow from that website Alia told me about,” said Sara, ignoring her husband.

“You know what I think? I think he poisoned my food back at that restaurant,” he said, looking thoughtful.

“Well, I'm not going to make anything heavy if that's what you're thinking. I mean we'll only be having tea,” she said, wiping down the countertops.

“No really, I think he did. Remember how I had to leave for the restroom and I can't finish in time to leave with you and we had to meet up at that boutique like... two hours later? Remember?,” he's getting a little more animated now. “I wasn't just in the bathroom, you know. I was nauseous as well. Let's just say I was ‘burning the candle at both ends’. It wasn't pretty.”

“It was probably an allergic reaction or something. I bought that nice scarf at the boutique though” she said, while opening the pantry and picking up a jar of peanuts. “Speaking of allergies, you don't think either of them are allergic to nuts, do you? Because I like my brownies nutty.”

“Good,” he said, gulping the last bit of tea from the cup he still has in his hand. “Put plenty of peanuts in those brownies. I hope he chokes to death.”

She turned to face her husband, snatched the cup and folded her arms across her chest, “Listen. I have no idea what happened between you two that's making you be like this and I don't really care to know. All I know is that you're acting very childish right now.”

He opened his mouth to speak.

“We're all adults here, okay?” she said. “Even if there's some bad blood between you two, this should be the time to mend the fences. Bury the hatchet. Let bygones be bygones and just relax and have some tea and be nice.”

He pursed his lips.

“Alia will be there,” he muttered. “She's always fun to talk to.”

“There we go,” said Sara, before continuing to put things away in the kitchen cabinets.

“Can we serve Monte Carlos instead of brownies?”

“Monte Carlos?”

“You know, those little sort of sandwich biscuits with jam in the middle. I like those.”

“I never made those. Those are store bought.”

“Can we have them anyway? I do love them so.”

“I already bought this week's groceries and I don't think it'll be worth the trip just for a box of biscuits.”

“They're sandwiched biscuits, you know,” he continued. “We can mix laxatives in the jam and no one will be able to tell.”

She shot him a look.

“Kidding! Only kidding,” he said with a smirk.

* * *

The weekend has arrived and everything is nearly ready. The table is set up and Alia and Ibrahim will be arriving in a few minutes. Both Mustapha and Sara are in the kitchen making the last minute preparations.

“I already cut the brownies and they're cooling down on the counter.” said Sara.

“Sweet,” he replied, peeking at the deep brown rectangles on the cooling rack. “By the way. Check it out.”

He took out a box from the paper bag he was holding and put it neatly on the counter next to the cooling rack.

“You actually went out and bought those?” Sara asked, barely hiding a chuckle.

“I told you,” he answered, pulling one out of the box and examining it. “I love Monte Carlos.” He took the sandwiched biscuits and separated them, revealing the jam in between.

“You can do that with Oreos, too you know,” she said as she reached into the paper bag to see what else he bought. Her mouth went gaping as she pulled out a much smaller box form the paper bag. “You bought a box of Fleet phospho-soda, too huh?”

He pointed to the ruby-colored jam on one half of the biscuit and gave her a wink.

“No, you crazy!” she said as she took out the bottle from the box to take a closer look. “I'm not feeding laxatives to my friend's husband!” she exclaimed. “Why on earth did you get that when I told you to be nice?”

Mustapha started giggling, “Oh relax, will you. Grampa is coming to visit on Tuesday and he told me to get this for him.”

“Oh.” she said. Her anger completely removed from her face, replaced with a small grin, “I hate you, you know that?” she said as she playfully slapped him on the shoulder.

The doorbell rang.

“You should get that. I'm gonna go finish up. Tell them I'll be there in a bit,” she hurriedly said, pocketing the bottle.

Just outside, the other couple are waiting.

“I still don't feel too good about this.” said the lanky man, Ibrahim, just outside.

“You're so stubborn. We're already here, you know. Might as well make nice.” said his wife Alia, next to him.

“He sneezed on me the first time we met back at high school.” continued Ibrahim. “Did I ever tell you that?”

Alia rolled her eyes. “Whatever you want to say, say it all now. I don't want you bringing up this rivalry nonsense once we get inside. They're a nice couple.”

“Yeah, I guess.” said Ibrahim, his expression slowly lighting up. “I heard she made brownies.”

Mustapha walked out of the front door to greet his guests. “Ah, you're here!” he gestured to the door. “Come in, please. Everything is just about ready,” he turned to Ibrahim and with the best smile he can make, said, “You'd be happy to learn that brownies are involved.”

“Oh joy,” he replied, returning his smile with a toothless grin.

The three of them made their way to the table, where Sara greeted them.

“Hey, Alia!”

“Hey, Sara!” the two women embraced.

“Ibrahim,” she turned to him, “I see you shaved your mustache. Somehow you look a lot less dapper without it.”

“Doesn't make a difference to me,” said Mustapha with a shrug.

“Oh?”

“You look dashing either way,” he continued, pulling out a chair for himself. “Please, sit.”

“I see you're wearing that new blouse we got together at that boutique.” said Sara. “Fetching.”

“Thanks. We should do that again, sometime.”

“Oh, please don't,” said Mustapha with a bit of a smirk, “Sara'll bleed me dry!” he continued with a laugh.

“Oh, right.. You two went shopping together didn't you?” asked Ibrahim. “After I... left,” he added, not wanting to say it was because of indigestion.

“Yeah, I remember..” Ibrahim said. “You had that pineapple fried rice in that restaurant what was it called..”

“Thai-Tanic.” said Alia.

“Yes, Thai-Tanic!” said Mustapha. “How could I have forgotten such a name..”

“Try the brownies, Ibrahim.” said Sara, cutting him off. “You're not allergic to nuts, are you?”

“Oh, no. I love nuts.” said Ibrahim, as he glanced at the table full of goodies. “Wait, what are these?”

“Ah.” went Mustapha, his pensive look turned to one of giddiness as he picked of one of the cream-colored, sandwiched biscuits Ibrahim was referring to. “These, are Monte Carlos.”

Ibrahim took a bite. “Oh, there's.. strawberry jam in here,” he said, delighted.

“Awesome, isn't it?” said Mustapha as he also started to partake.

As this exchange was going on, the women continued talking.

“Monte Carlo is an interesting name..” pondered Alia. “Sounds french.. is it?”

“Yeah, it is. It's also the name if a resort in Monaco.” answered Sara.

“Monaco.. that's near France isn't it?”

“Yes, yes it is,” Sara continued. “You've been to France, haven't you?”

“That's right! It was a long time ago, though,” said Alia as she chewed on a brownie.

“Did you go to Euro Disney?”

“No, we didn't. We climbed the Eiffel Tower though.”

“Well, that's to be expected.”

“The food was great. I remember having some excellent bouillabaisse there.”

“I have no idea what that is,” said Sara, as the two women shared a laugh.

“Sorry to interrupt..” started Ibrahim, “Can I use your restroom for a bit? I'm.. feeling a little queasy.”

“I'll go with you,” said Mustapha, himself starting to feel a bit off.

They both left the room quite hurriedly, leaving the two women alone together.

Sara and Alia both put their cups down at the same time. “How did you manage this time?” asked Alia as she stood up and picked up her purse.

Sara took out the bottle of laxatives from her pocket. “These work amazingly fast, don't you think?” said Sara, also standing up.

Alia nodded in amusement. “You did your usual.. sleight of hand?”

“Of course,” said Sara, producing her husband's wallet that she palmed earlier. “I'm thinking of getting some new shoes to go with the scarf we bought last time,” she continued, both women already making their way outside.

“By the way.. putting it in the jam so they wouldn't be able to tell?” said Alia as she put on her shoes. “Genius.”

“I know.”

“Miracle Fruit”

2008-11-25T11:11:00.003+08:00

“What are you so excited about?”, said the tall man in a white apron.

The skinny, well-groomed, smiling young lad he was talking to replied, “It's my first day in my first restaurant.”

“Really?” the man continued, with a bit of a smirk. “This'll be the longest first day you'll ever have, then. Go get dressed and help Parminder at the frying station, the lunch rush is coming in.”

Maniam wasn't joking. The lunch rush came hard and fast. After working his hands to the bone, Meor, the new guy, had a new appreciation and respect for the cooking staff and waiters and everyone who had to burn calories like mad so other people can get fat.

Aside from a few spills here and there, the lunch hours went by without a hitch. Meor was still getting used to cooking in an assembly line style. His days of studying culinary arts has always left him room to plan things out and cook in a much more methodical way. Dinner hours came, and the place became much more hectic than before.

Things went less smoothly for Meor this time. They started to run out of salmon and Anand, the dessert guy, had to go get some fresh ones. For the rest of the team, switching between stations on the fly while still keeping their heads are second nature. This, of course, disoriented Meor greatly. In a effort to fit in, he took over Anand's station. An encounter with the head chef while he was working there reminded him how green he was.

“You. What are you making?” he barked.

“Meringue, sir,” Meor replied, almost stammering.

“And how do you make meringues?” he interrogated.

“You whisk the eggs--”

“You whisk the eggs. Is that what you've been doing?”

“Yes, chef, I--”

“No you weren't.”

The wrinkled old lion grabbed at the bowl Meor was holding and held up the whisk to his face.

“Do you see this runny, sludgy bit of cat's piss?”

“Chef, I was--”

“You were going to feed my customers this?” he interrupted. He took the bowl and tossed its contents into the trash.

At this point, Anand returned to his station, glaring at Meor.

The chef turned to Anand, “You don't let the newbie touch your station, got it?”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied with a frown.

“Not until he learns the difference between whisking and playing with eggs.”

Meor went to the sink to clean his hands and whispered to Maniam, “..man, that Mr. Ricky? More like Mr. dicky.”

Maniam, who was usually quick with the retorts, looked up once, then ignored him.

“I'm right, aren't I? Dicky Suave.”

Of course, he didn't realize “Dicky Suave” was right behind him.

“You have a problem with how I run my kitchen, newbie?”

Meor kept silent as Maniam quietly leaves the sink.

“You should learn your place, college boy,” his face was right next to Meor's. So close he can hear his rapid breathing.

“You see this plate?”

“Yes, chef.”

“A nice, clean, perfect plate deserves to be treated like so..” as he says this, he carefully places on the plate a piece of smoked salmon, some salad leaves, and lovingly drizzles on some mushroom sauce.

“Yes, chef.”

“A dirty, ugly plate like this..” he flicked his wrist which sent the food splattering into the sink.

“...”

“Deserves this!” he smashed the plate into the sink, shattering into a billion broken pieces.
“Clean it up, newbie,” he growled.

With that, the head chef stormed out of the kitchen, kicking the door open.

“I wondered why that one doesn't have doorknobs..” Meor quietly said to himself.

From then on, after he cleaned up the mess, he made sure he only helped out Parminder for the rest of the shift. His face was red for the entire evening. But by the end of the shift, so was everyone else's. More out of exhaustion than embarrassment, however.

After they cleaned up and closed up the kitchen for the day, some of the cooks decide to go have a few drinks at an empty mamak place a few blocks away and Meor decided to join them. The four of them, Anand, Maniam, Parminder and Meor found a table and ordered their drinks.

“You did quite well for yourself on your first day,” said Parminder while the other two senior cooks sipped their drinks.

“Thank you,” Meor replied. “You taught me quite a bit. Couldn't have survived without you.”

“She didn't need to teach you about meringues though, you're an expert on that,” Maniam quipped, while Parminder giggled.

Meor buried his face in his palm. “Please don't laugh at me. I'm sorry, alright?” he apologized, turning to face Anand.

“Stick to your own business next time, newbie,” Anand said with a sigh.

“He's very protective of his station,” Maniam explained.

“Rightly so,” Parminder added. “He knows more about desserts than any of the other guys.”

“That's why Ricky went bonkers when you of all people took over,” Maniam continued. “Everybody changes stations a lot--”

“--but not me.” finished Anand, his steely eyes looking straight at Meor.

“Well, I thought since his station was the only empty one..” Meor began, but stopped as the three cooks shook their heads.

“Oh.”

“Don't think on it too much,” said Parminder.

“Yeah, let's talk about something else,” Maniam suggested. “Like how did you come to work for this restaurant?”

“Well, I've just finished studying Culinary Arts and thought I might get a head start. Maybe one day becoming a head chef myself.”

“Well, you certainly established a good rapport with our head chef..” Maniam remarked.

“Stop teasing the lad, he's had enough for today,” scolded Parminder.

Meor smiled meekly and took a gulp of his iced coffee.

“You don't want to ask us how we got here?” Maniam offered.

“Do tell,” said Meor.

“Me, I've always been a cook,” said Maniam with an air of pride. “My dad was a cook. He taught me everything I know. Bounced around in a few other restaurants and landed here.”

“My story is almost the same,” Parminder revealed. “Except that this is the first place I ever worked in. So I've been here much longer than Maniam. I've actually worked with Ricky the longest--”

Anand cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows.

--the second longest. Anand here has been working with Ricky since before he helped him open up the restaurant.”

Meor said nothing and continued to sip on his iced coffee.

“I used to be a chemist.”

Meor was suddenly fully alert.

“I love experimenting with all manner of chemicals,” Anand continued. “Ricky helped me discover my love for baking. It's all very very similar to chemistry. This compound reacts to this material in these conditions, producing these results,” he's starting to become more expressive now. “The best part are the experiments. You never know what's going to happen.”

“He's right,” Maniam interjected, smiling.

“I always conduct weekly experiments using new materials I discovered,” Anand continued, as if he weren't interrupted earlier. “The fellow cooks are always the guinea pigs,” he finished, taking a sip of his drink.

“Just like right now.” Maniam remarked, swirling his glass in front his face.

Meor has only now noticed that he was the only one who ordered the iced coffee. The rest had some sort of yellow...juice.

“Is that spiked?” asked Meor curiously.

“No,” Parminder answered with a smile. All three cooks are now enjoying watching the newbie try to figure out what was going on.

“Can I have some?”

Parminder glanced at Anand, whose face was again expressionless. Maniam's smile turned into a huge grin.

“Try some of mine,” he offered.

Parminder is now biting her lip as Anand nonchalantly takes another swig of the mysterious elixir.

Meor takes a sip, and immediately spits it out to the floor as Maniam breaks into a fit of giggles.

“This is lemon juice!” he sputtered. “Why in the world are you guys drinking straight lemon juice?” he yelled, before gargling with his coffee.

“Are you okay?” Parminder asked, concerned. Anand was silent while Maniam is still trying to keep his composure.

“You're all drinking it,” Meor realized as he saw that Anand and Parminder's glasses were almost empty. “Why aren't you guys..”

Anand produced three small berries from out of his pockets and handed them to Meor. Already expecting his bewildered expression, he said, “Magic berries, Synsepalum dulcificum,” he continues.

The rest of the table are now listening carefully. With the exception of Maniam, who is still chortling.

“It's the name of a plant native to West Africa that grows those so-called 'Magic Berries'. When the flesh is consumed, an active substance: miraculin, attaches itself to the tastebuds, making sour foods taste sweet.”

“It works really well,” added Parminder, taking another sip of her sweet lemon juice.

Meor is now staring at the berries in his hand. All thoughts of violently murdering his new co-workers have left his mind, replaced with brightly lit curiosity. “What do you intend to do with these?” he asked, popping one of the little rubies into his mouth.

“I don't know,” said a finally semi-serious Maniam. “Trick the customers into drinking vinegar?”

“We could save up on sugar that way..” Parminder jokingly added.

“The berry itself has a mild, sort of cranberry flavor. We can use that in a parfait, maybe.” Anand proposed.

“Or..” Meor started, his eyes lighting up, “We make all our desserts from sour fruits and advertise them as sugar-free?”

All the attention has now switched to the newbie.

“I mean think about it, everyone loves your desserts,” he said with a gesture towards Anand, who merely nodded slightly. “But at the same time they want healthier choices. Now they can have their cake and eat it, too. Pun intended, by the way.”

“So you're going to steal my berries, quit, and open up your own dessert shop across from our place?” Anand asked, mockingly.

“Why can't we just offer the idea to Ricky?”

The three cooks burst into laughter. Even the stoic Anand broke into a smile.

“Yeah, newbie, why don't you do that? He's certainly warmed up to you..” Maniam asked with a laugh.

Parminder opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she saw the determined look on Meor's face.

“I'll do it.”

The table went quiet, with the exception of Anand, who already was.

“Yeah, I'll do it tomorrow,” he continued, his co-workers' silence making him bolder. “I'll get him to take these berries and then taste a lemon meringue pie. With straight up lemon and no sugar.”

Anand raised his eyebrows.

“Alright, I'll make him drink straight lemon juice, too” he finished with a smug look on his face.

Maniam broke the group's silence, “Oh, that would be too fun to watch,” he added with a snicker.
“Make sure you don't chicken out, newbie.”

* * *

The next day was a Sunday, and the restaurant will only open at 2 in the afternoon. This gave Meor enough time to plan out the meal he was treating the head chef to. Parminder and Maniam were all in the kitchen while Mr. Ricky was sitting at one of the dining tables just outside, eating a bowl of soup. Meor was sitting across from him on the same table, talking animatedly. Ricky nodded occasionally and smiled a few times.

“So how did he do it?” asked Maniam. “I mean what did the boy say to Ricky?”

“He said he wants to offer an apology of sorts for his behavior yesterday. Said he prepared the meal especially for him.” answered Parminder. “I'm thinking he's keeping the ‘miracle berries’ thing quiet until the dessert.”

“Where's Anand?”

“I don't know. He's coming soon, I'm sure. It was his berries after all. He'll want to know what Ricky thinks.”

Anand quietly enters the kitchen.

“So did you help the boy again, this time?” Maniam asked accusingly.

“The soup was my idea. It's spiked with berries. That way the miraculin covers the entire tongue.” Parminder said, smiling.

“Wait,” Anand interjected. “You cooked the berries in a soup?”

“Well, the boy did,” Parminder answered. “Didn't change the flavor much at all.”

Anand's eyes widened, but he kept quiet.

“It looks like Ricky's liking it,” said Maniam, who just took a peek out of the kitchen and saw Ricky put down his spoon.

It was then that Meor entered the kitchen with the empty dishes and cutlery. “Hey guys,” he said with a nervous smile. He sets the dishes down and carries out a glass of lemon juice and the pie he prepared earlier. “Wish me luck!”

Once Meor left the kitchen, Anand let out a snort.

“Why, what's the matter?” Maniam asked, grinning.

Anand looks at Parminder and calmly says, “Miraculin is a glycoprotein.”

“Oh, no!” Parminder squealed and flew quickly out of the kitchen.

He now looks at Maniam and continues, “You can't apply heat to miraculin, it'll turn dormant!”

Anand then let out a series of horrible cackles that almost drowns out the sound of broken glass from just outside the kitchen.

“The Fool On The Bus”

2008-09-28T01:17:00.006+08:00

Two women were having their lunch break so Risa decided to join them. The two ladies' lively chat was cut short on Risa's arrival. Or rather, the subject of the discussion changed.

“I thought you were going to have your lunch by yourself today..” the lankier woman said, with a pout.

“Oh come on, I was just finishing up some stuff at my station, Jules.” Risa replied.

“By the way, we were just talking about your father,” the other woman quipped.

Risa let out a slight groan, "It's all I ever hear about these past few days, Ana.."

"Your 60 year old dad stopped a robbery in broad daylight! How can we not talk about it?" said Jules.

"Rumor has it he even made the gang leader cry," added Ana.

"It's all just rumors lah.. Truth is, the 'gang leader' was a student of my dad's.. They recognized each other, that's why. For all I know he might be the one who taught the guy how to rob!" Risa said with a laugh.

"Your father is still a brave man in his sixties.." said Jules.

"He must've been a hit with the ladies back in the day," Ana suggested.

Risa giggled,"You girls talk about the silliest things.."

"Hey, I know why Risa was late coming to the break room.." Jules said while gently nudging Ana with her elbow. "You were checking out Nik again, weren't you?" she added with raised eyebrows. Ana started to smirk.

"I can't help it, he's cute."

"You know you can ask him out right? He's not attached," said Ana.

"No no no, you have to check the guy out first. He seems a bit...off," Jules opined.

"Off how?"

"Well, He always seems to laugh at the most unfunny things," Jules answered. "He is also kinda geeky." she continued.

"How do you know?" asked Ana. "I've talked to him a few times before and he does have a.. unique sense of humor—"

"See?" Jules interjected.

"—but liking science fiction movies and esoteric literature doesn't mean he's a geek," she resumed, giving Jules a look.

"It does to me," Jules replied, unfazed by Ana's look.

"Are you saying Haruki Murakami is a horrible fantasy/scifi author?" Ana asked with a frown.

"I'm saying that Jap author of yours is also a geek," Jules answered, with a smug little simper on her face.

"You take that back!" Ana demanded, a hint of anger in her voice.

"Let's settle this like adults. I'll make a civil bet," Jules suggested with a twinkle in her eye.

"Fine." Ana agreed.

"What's a civil bet?" Risa asked.

"It's something Jules here invented when she found out that any form of gambling is not allowed in Islam,"

"How was I supposed to know that? No one ever taught me.." Jules interrupted.

"It's like a normal bet, but only one party is ever risking anything, so it isn't really a gamble." Ana continued.

"Okay, enough exposition. The deal is as follows: Risa here, will try to spend some time with Nik—"

"Hey, don't drag me into this!" Risa implored.

Ignoring Risa's plea, Jules continued, "—and if they hit it off and go on a date, nothing happens and we'll be happy for her, but if Nik does something stupid while being with Risa before the first date, I'll buy you lunch. Deal?"

"Sounds fair. Deal." the two women shook hands. "Do this for me please, Risa?"

"Yes, do it for her. She won't win anyway.." Jules added. "Besides, you've always wanted to get to know the guy.

"Alright then," Risa relented, not entirely regretting the decision her friends made for her.

* * *

It's almost closing time, Ana and Jules have left early to make it easier for Risa to make her move. And for some reason, most of the men left also. Another machination of Jules, Risa thought.

"Hey, we're the only two left." observed Nik while looking around.
"Uh, yeah.." Risa said.

Why am i so nervous, I see him all the time

"So," Nik said while absent-mindedly scratching the back of his head, "I heard about your father. It was pretty cool."

He knows about my dad! wait, of course he does, it's all over the papers, what's wrong with me

"It would be even better if he had busted out some fighting moves."

Does he know any martial arts? He might be a practitioner. He works out. Oh dear god he works out. Why am I thinking this?

"Well, it's not like he's been working out.." Risa replied.

"You never know, I mean Yoda is pretty fit for his age."

That's from star wars, right? oh yeah—

"The crinkly green midget." Risa said, thinking out loud.

Nik let out a guffaw. "Haha, yeah. I always call him that small guy with the sword, but yours is much better." he continued, still laughing.

Huh, he doesn't have a weird sense of humor at all. As far as this conversation goes. Okay, risa, time to bring this one home

"I guess it's pretty funny," Risa said, careful to pepper her words with giggles. "Anyway, since we're all done here, I have to go now, I don't want to miss the bus,"

"Oh, let me go with you, I'm all done here, also."

They both closed up the shop and walked together, making their way to the bus stop.

"You know," said Risa, "Jules says you're kind of a geek."

"I know, she says that to me sometimes. Everyone is kind of a geek in their own way." he theorizes.

Really? Is he calling me a geek?

"I mean we all have our little quirks and idiosyncrasies. It's just that some are more open about them than others," he added, pointing to his face.

Risa let out a small laugh.

He's right on that one. I never thought of it that way. He's so refreshing to talk to. What?

"All this time I've never asked you where you lived.. I mean you have to take the bus, so I guess it's quite far.."

"Not really, It's just that today I have to go to Precinct 5 and pick up some stuff for my father."

"Precinct 5.. that's close to where Meor lives, right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"I guess I'll ride with you then. I need to give back his book I borrowed. It's—"

"—Murakami?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

Yeah, how did i know that?

"I like how he weaves science fiction and fantasy. It's really fun to read"

what?

"Huh, I didn't know you like him. I thought it was just Ana, Meor and me. The more you know, huh?" he added with a grin.

He's always smiling..

The sound of a crying baby derailed Risa's train of thought.

"That is such a cool ringtone!" he said with a bigger grin this time.

"Sorry, I've got a message."

From: aNaBaNaNa
Monday 04/02/06
17:42

So how is it? :P

"Anyone I know?" asked Nik, leaning closer to see her cellphone.

"No, just some pesky..ads," she replied quickly.

He smells fruity..

Reply to: aNaBaNaNa
Message:

:)

"They send you ads at the most odd times.."

Think of something to say!

"And selling the weirdest things, too."

"They're mostly promotional stuff for a concert or event or whatever," said Nik. "At least I can ignore it. Not like the ads they show in cinemas. I mean, do they really need to advertise drinks to someone who will be sitting in front of a big screen trying to hold it in?"

Risa chuckled.

He's really funny. No he's not. Yes he is.

"Here's our bus, lets get in."

They both went on the bus and found and empty seat and sat next to each other. The bus started to move as Nik looks out the window.

Think of something to say!

"So, now that you know where I live, maybe you can come over sometime?" asked Risa.

Nik is still staring at the window, his expression unreadable.

Did i say something wrong? I gotta save this conversation!

"Don't worry, my dad won't bust out his fighting moves at you, haha." she added a giggle at the end that sounded more than a bit nervous.

Nik is still looking hard out the window.

The baby starts to cry again. Risa let's the tone play for a few seconds to see if it gets a laugh form Nik. It doesn't work.

From: BizkutJoolie
Monday 04/02/06
17:55

So, how much of a geek is he?

-----------------------

Reply to: BizkutJoolie
Message:

I DUNNO

Before she can hit send, Nik burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry I ignored you there for a bit," he spurted in between fits of laughter.

What's wrong with this guy? This is getting weird..

"I was, I was, I was," Nik enunciated, barely coherent amidst the laughing.

He's a maniac. Definitely.

Nik's laugh continued for a bit longer before he calmed down enough to be able to say, "I'm sorry, I was just looking out the window and noticed that I'm on a bus with you.." he snickered.

He can't believe i'm here with him? Is that funny somehow?

"I don't get it.." Risa said softly, slowly tilting her head.

"I'm on a bus," he said, with more emphasis on the last word.

"So?"

Does he have bus phobia and is coping with his fear with violent, nervous laughter?

"And the bus is moving," he's starting to laugh again.

"Then?"

He has fear of moving buses? This is getting crazy!

"What's so funny?" Risa demanded, getting a little huffy.

Nik sits himself straight in his seat, and with the air of a magician, puts one hand palm upwards in front of him, puts the other hand in his pocket—

"Ta-DAH!"

—and pulls out his car keys.

“A Day at The Bank”

2008-09-21T21:42:00.005+08:00

Pak Qasim really didn't feel like going out today. It was Friday you see, and although the old man is no longer employed, he still feels like he's entitled to some rest today. He can't though. He promised his daughter he would help out in paying the road tax this month. Which is only fair, since he help get rid of the old road tax sticker. Granted, he also got rid of the old windshield too. But it was already cracked and needed repair anyway, he's just helping things along.

"You're reflexes are getting slow, she says", mutters Pak Qasim to himself, as he is wont to do in the mornings.
"You're eyesight is going, too. Why don't you just take a rest and watch television while I take care of everything, she says", his pitch increasingly becoming higher. "Kids. I guess it's cute that she thinks she needs to take care of me." he continues, followed by a small cough. He reached for the car keys and headed for the door.

"Dad?" came a voice from the kitchen.

"I'm going out now, dear", Pak Qasim replied.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" his daughter asks as she exits the kitchen to make sure her father has got his pants on.

"I'll be alright, honey. I told you, last time wasn't my fault. You met the other driver, you know how he was," came the reply, slightly agitated.

"Okay, dad. Just be careful, you're not--"

"--in my forties anymore, I know, I know," he answered with a smile.

With that, parent and child shared a handshake and a kiss, and the father drove off, slowly and deliberately, while the daughter waved at him and returned to the house to call up the insurance company.

* * *

The trip to the bank was uneventful enough. Old though Pak Qasim is, he knows when to be careful on the road. He enters the bank, takes a number and sits down patiently awaiting for the machine to call out his turn.

He looks a bit out of place here in the bank, he admits to himself. Not just because of his old-timey fashion sense. Everybody he sees there had some sort of electronic device attached to them. He is no exception of course, with his hearing aid and his cellphone, which he keeps in his pocket, turned off. These people however, were tethered to their devices. On his left is a woman who seems to be talking to herself, until Pak Qasim noticed her handsfree device ridiculously snapped onto her ear. She looked rather like an air traffic controller, he thought to himself. If traffic controllers are busy exchanging gulai recipes. On his right is a child playing with a small thing that looked like it came from straight out of a science fiction novel. He could have sworn the child was talking to it at some point. Although whether the child was simply expressing his joy, or actually legitimately communicating with the thing is a question Pak Qasim knows isn't worth pursuing. Three other people are typing on their cellphones, five others were listening to something they kept in their pockets, and two others were on their laptops.

Pak Qasim had to stop himself from counting people when he heard the ceiling call out his number. Finally, he thought to himself. He slowly got up out of his seat and made his way to the counter when he heard a loud bang.

"Alright everybody this is a ROBBERY!" one more bang echoed through the lobby.
The tellers backed off from their counters.
"Everybody DOWN!" another crack busted open the ceiling.
Screams were heard as people started to realize what was happening.
"I said EVERYBODY down! NOW!"

Pak Qasim turned around to give the bank a quick glance and several things ran through his mind.
He noticed that the security guards were tied up. All three of them.
Only one of the robbers had a weapon, and it was a shotgun.
Three warning shots were already fired.
Two were used to distract the guards, as he can see from the marks on the outside wall and floor.
One more left in the barrel, he thought. And the tallest robber, the one with the gun, was about the same height as himself. He turned back to the counter, being careful not to breath hard.

"Move, old man!" the robber with the shotgun yelled in Pak Qasim's direction. Perhaps he was a little perplexed that this old man was the only one still standing.

Pak Qasim drew a long sigh. All this on a Friday too, he thought to himself.

"I said MOVE, you deaf?" he shouted again, as two of his buddies who were hurriedly packing all the witnesses' electronics and jewelry into a sports bag, started to slow down.

The old man turned as slowly as he could, keeping his calm. He replied sweetly,
"Can I help you, young man?" He heard one of the robbers giggle.

"I said MOVE DAMMIT!" his arms are shaking now, the end of his gun pointing wildly.

"Watch your language junior, if you want to make a deposit why don't you take a number!" Pak Qasim shouted back, his face inches away from the gunman's.

The gunman pointed his gun at the old man's forehead. "I'll..I'll kill you, man! I mean it!" his voice crackled just a bit.

Pak Qasim squinted a little. Strange, that voice is starting to sound familiar.
"Say that again?" he asked.

"I'll k..I'll kill you!" he answered, much softer, his arm trembling, and his voice broken completely. The other two robbers stood silently still. As was everyone.

The wizened old man's eyes darted open as his mind begin to make connections it hasn't made in years.

"Ismail, is that you?" he asked, mouth agape.

The two other robbers looked at each other with wide open eyes. One of them dropped his bag.

Ismail quickly turned around and whispered sharply to his cronies, "Why didn't you TELL me Pak Qasim lives here?"
The robbers hastily picked up their things and clumsily made their way out.

"You know him?" a teller asked Pak Qasim.

"I taught him fardhu 'ain," came the reply. "He was always a little naughty as a kid," he continued, walking towards the masked men.
"Are you leaving, just like that?"

Ismail looked back at his teacher. "I'm busted you old geezer. Might as well leave," he turned around and opened the bank door, his gang already waiting outside.

"I'm telling your father."

Ismail stopped in his tracks. He turned around with his head down, his eyes meeting with his teacher's.

"You're better than this, Mail. We can still fix this."

The young man removed his mask and went to hug his beloved teacher.

* * *

After a short trip to the police station, a farewell chat with an old student and a few interviews with some local journalists, Pak Qasim left for home, feeling quite proud of himself. He entered the house and was greeted by his daughter.

"My workmate was there when it happened. He told me everything," she blurted out.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" she continued, worriedly.

"I'm fine, I told you, you don't need to worry about me. The car is fine, I got back here safe and sound and I even nabbed that robber," came the reply. "I might be old, child.. but you give your father less credit than he deserves," he added with a grin.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," she said, starting to smile. "I'm just too much of a worrier,"

Pak Qasim made his way to his favorite chair and sat down to read the newspaper.

His daughter handed him a mug of coffee and after a moment's hesitation, asked
"By the way, did you pay the road tax?"

“That Kid With The Fingers”

2008-09-08T22:38:00.005+08:00

There's this kid I know who had five fingers. Only five fingers for his two hands. He is the happiest little kid I know. Every time I see him he's always smiling. Some days in the evenings I would have to go outside and call my little brother home for dinner and I'll find him playing with that kid with the fingers. Like today. They're both talking about a riddle they just heard and are both trying to figure it out.

“Are you sure?” I heard my brother ask.

“I think so.” he giggled, “Let's ask your brother, he's right over there.” he said, pointing at me with his...thumb, I guess.

“Abang, am I right, or is your brother right?” he asked me, with the grin still on his face.

They both excitedly told me the riddle I've heard a million times before as a kid. I gave them the answer and they both laughed like madmen.

“I knew it was a stupid riddle!” my brother declared.

“Your brother knows everything, I wish I could be like him!” the kid exclaimed.

Then my brother went off to the swings and the kid went to the monkey bars. I watched as he gripped the bars in his funny little way. He fell down violently after two bars. I winced as he examined the cut he got on his forehead.

“I gripped it wrong.” he told me after a giggle or two.

He went again, this time holding it in a very different way. He got across in three swings, skipping the last bar.

“Did you see that?” he breathed, holding his arms in the air. “I was awesome!”
Seeing my unimpressed look, he asked me, “Don't you like monkey bars?”

“No.” I confessed.

“Why not?”

“I was always afraid of falling.”

He giggled some more before telling me, “You can't be scared of falling. I'm not. I fall all the time.”

He took another swing back the other way.

“But now, I'm king of the monkey bars!” he yelled, as the cut on his forehead started to bleed.

I watched as he wiped his head with the back of his hand, climbed down and ran to the swings to join my brother.

The kid is still smiling. I wish I could be like him.

I was never any good at this.