VinlolStories

Love Letters To Death - Letter 1

2010-11-25T22:20:00.004+08:00

Dear Death

Normally I'm not the one to make the first move, but I guess my desire to talk to you has grown so strong that I can't resist writing this anymore. I have to be honest with you; my first impression of you was somewhat unflattering. You seemed to be the type of person most would avoid at a party. You're that type of guy that leans his back on the wall, holding an unpopular drink in your hand and taking small sips at it, all the while bobbing your head to the slow rhythm of the music playing in the background. I used to think little of you, trying instead to make small talk with the other more prominent males around, but you're like a skin disease, slowly starting out as a minute itch that could be easily removed with a few scratches. Then you start growing, forming a thick rash that repeatedly distracts me from my mundane life, up until the point where you ravage through my whole body, eating away what's left of my skin. And no matter how much I try to peel you off, you will always form a noticeable scar that I'll have to keep for the rest of my life.

Whenever you occupied my mind, I tried reasoning with myself. Trust me; I tried every way to push you to the closet in the corner of my mind, telling myself I could never be with you. It would never work out between the both of us; I used to say to myself, as the other boys bored me with their self-assuring boasts. But one day the truth just appeared in front of my eyes, we were destined to be together. You're accepting of anyone, ignoring all their past mistakes. The silent sidekick, who would come to us when we're in need, telling us you, would always be there. It hit me that there was no one else who was just like you, no one else whom I wanted to love more than you.

I know you're always ready, but I'm still unsure. I still need your affirmation that you'll stick with me forever before I make this leap of faith. Please, reply as soon as possible. I'm afraid I might change my mind if you wait any longer.

Love,
Gloria

NO LIGHT AT THE (END OF THE) TUNNEL

2010-11-23T20:41:00.007+08:00

When my doctors told me that the chance of getting a heart transplant was one in a thousand, I almost shat my pants. Damn, I was condemned to a death sentence without breaking the law, how unfair was that!? And you know what the worst part of my heart failure was? Freaking lying in bed all day at the hospital, filled with the inherent smell of disinfectant, doing nothing! Oh and I swore if I had to consume the same bland yuck of a gruel everyday for the next twenty-something years I would prefer to die (peacefully of course). Heck, even hell has better food than this crap I betcha.

But man was I lucky or what? Some dude from the other end of my country died in an unfortunate car crash or something and I got a suitable match with that guy. I am not gloating over his death, no that would be incredibly screwed up of me. At first I felt shameless as well, but then this guy, my homie, he opted himself for the organ donors program. Said he wanted to give someone else a second chance when he died. And then I realised, I should be thankful and seize this chance to get back at being a comedian again, that was what he wanted to do. I loved this guy man; he would go to heaven, for sure.

***

It was yet another shitty day for Howard Stilton, piloting yet another domestic flight. It had been six years since he gave up his hope of flying around the world and seeing all those wonderful sights he saw in the travel magazines he kept throughout his life. But those freaking guys at the top never gave him a chance to rise; instead they gave those young and inexperienced pilots who had a few more years of advanced training the right to pilot all the international flights. Howard had seen many of them before. Those arrogant bastards with no idea what to do in an emergency, surrounded by a throng of gorgeous air-stewardesses, how Howard wished he could walk up to them, give them a sucker-punch then coolly say, “This, is for stealing away all my dreams,”.

In his early forties but looking like a fifty-year-old, you would never expect Howard to be a pilot. Years of hair loss had caused his head to be almost bald, and his depressing face would remind you of a labourer who hated his life. Howard did felt like one though, he came to work as a pilot thinking he would live the high life. Instead, luckless Howard only piloted one international flight in his life and was still unmarried.

‘This plane carries organs need for transplant, it’s a very important flight,” Yea right, if this was important, I could sell my hairy ass for money, Howard thought. He started the plane and controlled it lacklustrely, his mind still distracted by the fictional scenery he created. So distracted he was, that he failed to notice that one of the two engines had caught fire and it was spreading. When he finally looked down, both engines had already been irreparably burnt, and the plane was on a one-line track to crashing, nose first. Howard smiled; at last he would be able to travel freely all around the world, as he happily got himself wrapped in an inferno of flames.

***

I guessed…I guessed life had played one giant joke on me. An enormous, goddamned joke on me. It gave me all the hope I could ever receive, and smashed it right in my face like a pie filled of cream. Even my wife’s sobbing embrace could not pull me out of my hopelessness. That idiot pilot, I cursed him. I cursed him to hell! What did he think he was doing? He had my life at stake, and he blatantly threw it all away!

But I knew the doctor was joking. Must have seen me on TV and wanted to see my comedic response. “It ain’t funny, doctor. You shouldn’t play with your patient’s feelings like that,” I told him with a sarcastic laugh. Then I saw the uncomfortable expression on his face as he kept quiet. And I asked myself

WHERE’S THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL? THERE’S NO LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. WHERE’S THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL? THERE’S NO LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. WHERE’S THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL? THERE’S NO LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. WHERE’S THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL? THERE’S NO LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. WHERE’S THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL? THERE’S NO LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. WHERE’S THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL? THERE’S NO LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. WHERE’S THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL? THERE’S NO LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. WHERE’S THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL? THERE’S NO LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. WHERE’S THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL? THERE’S NO LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL.

The Necklace

2010-11-20T21:48:00.004+08:00

Note: This story contains expletives that hopefully do not offend you much.

The Necklace

Cassandra had a problem. She was unable to remove the necklace she put on. That obsidian pearl necklace clung onto her thin neck, like her annoyingly childish younger brother, although it made less noise. It was her family's heirloom, passed onto her by her grandmother, who told her to keep it safely and to wear it only on special occasions. For some reason she could not resist putting it on, those tiny beads glowing under the reflection of her bedroom light, and she had just finished staring vainly at the mirror when she realised how difficult it was to take it off her neck. Come to think of it, she did not know how it was put on in the first place. There was no clip, no knot, it was as if she just placed it over her head and let it fall to her neck, except that the necklace was too small to pass through her head. Growing increasingly desperate, Cassandra took out a pair of scissors from the top of her dresser and attempted to snip the string of the necklace. But no matter how hard she tried, the string still could not be cut. She started pulling the necklace fruitlessly, but all that did was to cause her pain and more frustration. So she decided to call her male friends Andy and Dan for help. After all, they were guys, she thought, they would be able to rip this necklace off.

"Eh Cass!" Cassandra was sitting on a table at the void deck, crossing her legs and waiting for the boys with a look of dissatisfaction. When the Andy and Dan arrived, Andy quickly shouted her name and waved enthusiastically while Dan stood behind him, giving her a reassuring smile. Both of them had a liking for her, with a silent enmity growing between them. Cassandra was typically attractive. She had long hair, with streaks of light brown at the ends, a fringe that covered a part of her face, and a pair of FBT shorts she wore that unintentionally revealed her smooth legs. Plus, her innocence and insecurity poorly covered up by a veil of vulgarities she spewed just made her cuter in their eyes.

"Dan, Andy! Wah lucky you guys are here man, you know this fucking necklace is making me so damn pissed lah!" She tugged her necklace a few times and grimaced, "Your can me get it off anot?"

Andy jumped immediately at the opportunity to impress and responded, "Of course I can lah! Come, let me," Cassandra turned her back facing him and he walked up, using the chance to take a whiff at her hair. It smelt like a heavenly bed of flowers, and Andy grinned to himself as he handled the necklace. At first, Andy could feel a slight, prickling pain in his hands when he touched the necklace, but after a few seconds, he jumped back with a howl.

"Wah damn pain nia! What type of necklace is this?" He looked at Cassandra with shock while she and Dan sniggered at his actions.

Sensing it was his turn to prove his worth, Dan stepped up and began to pull the necklace apart. He could feel it too, but he held it in. It must have been his imagination, he thought, but the stinging pain rapidly became potent, and soon Dan was struggling to remove the necklace. Cassandra gave a short moan when he pulled the necklace too hard, causing it to press tightly against her neck. Dan yelped and finally released the necklace. He lasted a good ten seconds more than Andy, but his hands had started bleeding.

"What the hell, Cass? Is this some kind of joke?" Andy asked sternly.

"No, I really don't know..."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Dan's wounds were not intending to heal by themselves. It was so painful that Dan repeated his agonising screams.

"Cass, I'm gonna bring him to a doctor. That necklace you have there, it's some fucking shit man I tell you," Andy placed Dan's unharmed hand over his shoulder, "I don't know how you gonna take it off, but...but we're getting out of here," He assisted Dan as they rushed away from Cassandra.

Cassandra grabbed hold of her necklace and felt nothing. She was utterly confused. Why did she feel no pain while they were hurt so badly? Were they playing some sort of sick joke? Or was it a curse or something? For a moment, her mind was blank as she held her mobile phone in her hands, wondering who to call for help. She finally dialled a number she has not dialled for months after some consideration - her mother. When her mother picked up, Cassandra told her all about the necklace, skipping through many of the details.

"Cassandra, why you so idiot? I got tell you don't anyhow wear that necklace right?" Her mother's response made Cassandra remember the reason for not calling and even talking to her mother often. Her mother often insulted her, peppered her conversations with hurtful words that squashed Cassandra's self-esteem. Little did she know that her mother was so condescending because she had to work two jobs after her drunkard husband left his job and spent all his money on gambling at the new casinos. Cassandra would never understand, of course, for she never bothered to, especially since all the other friends of hers hated their parents as well.

"You also not the one give me the necklace, you think you got tell me not to wear?" Cassandra was not exactly sure if her mother did warn her, but she had to pretend so that she would not lose her pride, "And ma, can stop calling me idiot?"

"Ah whatever. You wait for me at home; I after work will come back,"

"Okay okay, bye," Cassandra hung up the phone before her mother could reply, then took a lift back up to her flat.

The creaky house door slammed closed with a bang. "Cass, I'm home!" Her mother's voice was loud and commanding, though slightly hoarse after many continuously days of shouting at her half-wit subordinates. Cassandra shut down her computer immediately and stood up. She was checking her Facebook account to make sure Andy and Dan did not post anything about the afternoon, although the use of the computer without her mother’s permission was forbidden.

"Ma...You're back," She prepared herself for a tirade of harsh, hurtful words.

"Come, sit down, I'll help you get rid of the necklace," Her mother held the necklace gently, slowly pulling it apart. From time to time she would grit and suck her teeth. Cassandra kept her mouth shut as she did not know what to talk about. It problaby let her mother concentrate better without all the talking anyway. A minute later, her mother said feebly, “I’m done,"

"Thanks ma! Wah this necklace ah, I really dunno how to take out...Ma...Your hands..." They were bloodied with many deep cuts extending all the way to her wrists. Cassandra was overwhelmed with deep guilt, it was the first time she actually realised her mother's immense love, how she was willing to endure all the pain just to remove that necklace. But it only took this long for her to see it. It hurt Cassandra so much that her eyes started swelling while fresh, warm tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I'm...I'm...alright...No pain...You're okay, that's all that...matters," Her mother gave a weak smile.

Cassandra stood up and called for an ambulance immediately, before taking some tissue to dry up the blood futilely. Those hands suddenly reminded Cassandra of her grandmother, who lost part of her fingers on both hands but never cared to explain why. She stared at her mother, her mouth wide open in horror, "Grandma..."

"Yes..."

You Never Will

2010-08-27T23:20:00.002+08:00

You can see yourself staring into the mirror, trying your best not to look straight into your eyes, because you know that actually you could never see yourself in the first place. To you, you're just a metaphorical piece of art, living in a portrait of irony, a photograph of self-denial. You were never really part of the solution, neither were you the source of problem, but instead, you're an onlooker, concerned but helpless in your causes. You wished you could actually lay your hands down, to actually find yourself doing something useful, but in the end the fear of losing a part of yourself for the greater good overcomes you, grips you by your throat and chokes you, leaving you to die in a radioactive marsh. There used to be a time, though, when you were less afraid. Before compliments became cloaked knives that backstabbed, before you tried so hard only to fail. Those were the times you wish you could turn back to, but you never will. You never will.

Then someone catches your attention, and you realised that you had to change. Your flawed character would only serve to turn your love life into a hurricane-wrecked train disaster, so you wrap yourself under the pretext of expensive, unnecessary suits and posh ties that were like bandages, wrapping your true self under a cushion of soft cotton. But never will you be able to hide it all, because one day it will all come to light, that you were just a pathetic useless person, whose bandages only served to delay her pain, like a criminal on bail. You can never hide it fully. You never will.

Unreally Wax

2010-07-26T19:10:00.010+08:00

Our story starts with an adolescent boy named Horman, driving the black second-hand Cadillac his father bought for him on his eighteenth birthday. Horman was driving down an empty highway, with only blank mud fields surrounding it on both sides, wondering why his girlfriend dumped him again. The first time she did, it was due to his peculiar habit of wearing the same clothes over and over again, and she could not show him off to her friends. This time round, she said she was leaving Horman for a billionaire, whom she claimed had a thousand times more shirts than him.

It was not that Horman had not tried to get some new clothes. In fact, he only quit trying on the umpteenth time, because all the shops he went to rejected him. Each shop told him the same thing, that he was a utter disgrace to their branding, and if anyone saw him in the shop, they would leave immediately.

Horman woke up from his train of thought when he saw the picturesque sunset while passing through a beach. For a person who never really saw a sunset before in his life, it was a wonderful, mind-blowing phenomenon, the sun melting slowly into the horizon, its mellow sunlight bouncing on the calm water, extending its reach towards the beach, painting the sand a soft orange. Horman got out of his Cadillac and treaded softly down a gentle slope to the beach.

It was full of static wax figures that were perfectly sculpted. To the untrained eyes, these wax figures looked exactly like normal humans, except with a flawless body and a perfect face. But their eyes were fucking soulless, although it was the only part of their body that could move properly. Horman approached a wax couple, both of them lying on a mat, staring into the sun. They were talking about the waves, and how sweet it would be to surf on. Not once did the couple bother to look at Horman, except when Horman tried to greet them. The male gave him a quick glance then, before continuing to blabber his meaningless crap. It seemed as if they never stop talking, and it seemed as if the only topic they had was about the waves.

Why could no one recognise his presence? Was it because of his clothes again? Horman could not hold it in anymore, so he took out his lighter from his pockets and set the wax couple on fire. But even when they were ablaze, they never looked at him. They never stopped talking. So, Horman decided to burn all the wax figure on the beach, and watched as they all burned to a thin crisp under the phoenomenal sunset. It was a terribly beautiful scene, when Horman suddenly noticed that all the wax figures were actually hollow inside.

Horman hopped back into his Cadillac, and drove off to his girlfriend's house. He did not know why, but he did not have to. When he opened the door, he found her entering a bathtub filled with wax.

"Eli, why are you doing this?"

“Go away, Horman, he doesn't want me anymore. But I'll change, I'll change myself so that he'll accept me...But you won't understand. You can never be one of them," She closed her eyes, and submerged herself into the wax. Horman was horrified, and then reached into his pockets for his lighter.

14th Street Avenue

2010-06-16T23:13:00.000+08:00

The train screeched to a startling halt as it reached its last station, 14th Street Avenue. A place of nullifying silence and silver chrome crows that shriek at the shattering of treated glass. I rose from my seat, made of soft cushion that had been flattened by the bottoms of many and said, “Come on Amie, it’s time to go,” She reached into her tote bag her friends gave for her birthday, and then gave me a stoic expression of franticness.

“Wait, I can’t find Elis!”

“Did you drop it or something?” I asked rather uncaringly.

She bent down and checked under her seat before replying, “No, pa, it’s not there,”

“Forget about that bear, we really have to go now,” Besides, she was too old for a teddy bear. Her mother gave it to her a day before she left us for a new man, as if it was her last attempt to spite me. In fact, I kind of wished it was lost, left on this train and gone forever, so that she could finally forget about that bitch.

“But it’s been with me for ten years, I can’t just leave it here. Besides, it was mum’s…”

“Give me that!”I snapped as I grabbed her bag and began to rummage through all her belongings, only to find Elis hidden comfortably in the side pouch, “What is this, huh? Oh, so now you’re trying to lie to me. So you think you can miss your appointment today?”

“No, no, I swear. I really couldn’t find it!”

Denial, denial, denial. I could already see from her shocked face. She was definitely guilty, yet she still wanted to deny it. “I took time off from work just to bring you to the hospital, and here you are trying to delay us? I’m not going to have it your way, you’re coming with me,” With that, I clutched her hand and attempted to pull her out of the train.

She struggled and used all her strength to stop me from getting her out. “Pa, I really don’t want to go, please…please, I beg you…” That little girl already had such a rebellious streak at the age of fifteen, if I let her go on, she would be the death of me when she grew up.

A pair of hands suddenly gripped my hands, and when I looked up, I saw a tall middle-aged Caucasian man, wear a dull grey trench coat, shaking his head at me, “Excuse me, sir,”

“What? Let go of me, it’s none of your business!”

“It’s mine if you treat your daughter like that,”

“You don’t know the situation, okay? She’s crazy! She’s freakin’ crazy! She’s got voices in her head, telling her what to do – look at this!”I rolled up her sleeves to reveal a multitude of scars on her arms, that resembled a reptile’s scale. The Caucasian man widened his eyes, “All I want to do is to bring her to the mental hospital for a checkup, yet she insists on not going. I’ve to tell you, if she doesn’t get treated, she’ll do all sorts of crazy things, and who knows, she might even kill me!” I was practically releasing all the rage I had built up in me for the past two weeks, not even thinking about what I was saying. When Amie told me about her problem, I became so troubled and confused and lost at what to do. She was the only person I had left.

“Oh…” The Caucasian man released his grip and told Amie to listen to me and follow me for her checkup.

“You see, Amie? Even this man here wants you to listen to me, so you better come out of the train now,” I tried to convince her, but she cupped her ears and shouted, “You can’t just go around telling everyone I’m crazy! Don’t you even care about…”

“No, I don’t care! I don’t care about what you think, now just start moving!” Then, Amie took out a sharp, shiny object and thrust it deep into my abdomen, as she glared into my eyes, hers burning, fuelled with pent-up hatred. She pulled it out and proceeded to slash the Caucasian man, and the rest of the passengers on board.

Being hated, stabbed and killed by your own daughter was horrible. Seeing her destroying the lives of the innocent while you laid on the floor, holding your stomach, was pure insanity.

Weekly Short Story 6: Procrastination

2010-06-02T22:09:00.001+08:00

Here I am sitting down, wasting my time away. I have neither any motivation nor inspiration to continue, and it

Weekly Short Story 5: i remember

2010-05-08T13:35:00.003+08:00

Everyday, when I return home after having a volley of insults thrown at me, I would write them all down on small pieces of torn paper and put them in a box. Most of the insults were really useless, like the shallow 'nerd', the usual 'retard' that was muttered when i was pretending to be on their level, and the 'crazy' that only shows the limited amount of words they had to describe randomness. on good days when my ego is like a meteorite sailing through space, i would open up the box to remind myself that i was just a human so as to crash myself back to earth. but on bad days i like to take those pieces of paper out and laugh at how shallow people really are. THEN i shall start smiling at all the plots i have conceived to prove them wrong

one day a mysterious fire took place in my home that burnt away that valuable box but its okay because i already got them all in my head

Weekly Short Story 4: Ghosts in the Backyard

2010-05-03T23:50:00.004+08:00

...there were ghosts in the backyard, asking me to come play with them. They told me, no one else wants to play with you, so come join us, and we shall have all the fun in the world. I did not believe their lies. I knew that there would be someone who would come sit down with me, and that we would create stories with all the soft toys I owned.

In the past few days, Daddy and Mummy seemed very sad. None of them wanted to play with me, not even my sister Lucy. Sometimes I would pretend to play with someone while in the attic. But I hoped Mummy never noticed, because she used to scold me for talking to myself. She warned me not to talk to myself again, or I would go crazy. Playing all by myself got boring after awhile, so in the end, I just waited for Leticia to come back from her London tour. She would definitely play with me.

Yet she did not. When she returned home, she was all frowny-faced and crying. I could not understand. Why did no one want to play with me anymore? Before I fell down the stairs, everything was normal. Were they so angry at me for falling down the stairs that they did not want to even talk to me?

So I looked down from the attic window, there were ghosts in the backyard...

So Long

2010-04-19T20:35:00.007+08:00

The grey clouds in the sky swirled around the vortex, like a cake mixture being whisked, darkening the horizon along with the deep, bottomless seawater. At the end of the pier was a quaint boathouse, a far cry from the cherry blossom it replaced several years ago. That tree was planted by the town's community, in memory of a Japanese woman who drowned when a giant wave hit the pier and flushed her out into the open, endless sea. She was dearly missed by everyone, along with the sushis she generously gave out to anyone passing her house, and her pair of blue eyes, deep like the bottomless sea. Unable to cope with his loss, her husband jumped into the sea to reunite with her once again.

I leaned on the aged creaky wooden railings, admiring the gorgeous water as it swayed, twisted and crashed softly on the pier supports. It was a young child, sometimes jumping about maniacally, the next moment snuggling softly on its mother's lap. Reaching deep inside my pockets, I pulled out the watch she had given me before we parted. Its strap tattered beyond repair and its glass surface covered with scratches.

19 April was the date we agreed on. I reached the pier five minutes before our arranged time, knowing that she would definitely be on time. True enough, there was a soft tap on my shoulders.

"Hi," I turned around to see her, Tresha, wearing a white dress, greeting me with her angelic voice.

"Hey," So much had changed. Her blond hair was rebonded, instead of those wavy tresses she used to have. And she had applied eye liner and mascara, things she said she used to hate. I kept a photo of us in my wallet. During the first year after she left for a scholarship, I would look at it everyday, mesmorised by her smile. For all these years, her fifteen-year-old face had been implanted in my head, but now, she seemed so...different.

She could clearly sense my surprise, but she waited awhile before asking, "Is something wrong?"

"No...it's just been...so long..."

Then, there was an awkward silence. It was deafening. And it wanted me to speak. Yet there was nothing to say. She heaved a slight sigh, and turned to face the sea. I turned as well, the beauty of the sea made me forget whatever I had in mind.

"Do you remember the first time we met here?"

"Yea, the sky was blue then, and the cherry blossom had just been planted. You sat here crying, because of your mother, and I came up and asked you 'What's wrong?'. After you cheered up, we started running up and down this pier, shouting at the top of our lungs..." I was interrupted by Tresha's giggle, a nostalgic giggle, before another period of awkward silence ensued.

"So much has changed," She paused for a second, "I have changed...you have changed,"

"Perhaps our love has changed as well..."

"Perhaps we shouldn't continue with this anymore," My heart sank the moment I heard those words. Though they were correct, I could not have felt any worse. To think I waited for six long years...

There were tears seeping out of her eyes, but she quickly wiped them off and reasoned, "We can never go back to before, when we were young teenagers, when we truly loved one another. We can never have it back again," She waited for my response, but I was too distraught to even look at her.

And with that, she gave me a slow kiss on my cheeks and shuffled away from me. All I did was to stare at the sea with my tear-filled eyes, and wish for the giant waves to come crash onto me, free me from my heartache.

Spin The Wheel

2010-03-24T22:48:00.006+08:00

Everything in life is about chance, luck. Whether you are born to a poor family or an aeroplane with faulty controls crashes into your house at dawn, it all depends on you being in the wrong place at the wrong time. After losing everything in my life due to luck, I decided to leave the rest of my life to fate.

Every morning I would spin a cardboard wheel to decide what I would do that day. Before that I would write down the different options I thought of using a pencil. These options were all random, ranging from the daily mundane tasks to life-threatening situations, like brushing my teeth to painting a self-portrait to standing in the middle of the road and waiting for death. Once the wheel had decided the five things I would do, I would erase all the options so that I could spin it again the next day with different options.

Every time I spun the wheel I was lucky enough to get rather safe things to do. The most dangerous one I got was to jump from the second storey of a building. My knees hurt after that incident but that was about as bad as it got. One day I woke up feeling all useless and depressed, so I decided to try something different.

Every option I wrote on the wheel that day was fatal. It was either I would jump from the twenty-eighth storey, fling myself towards an oncoming car or take an entire bottle of sleeping pills. There were many other more brutal and rather insane options that I will not delve into, but in the end, the first thing the wheel chose for me was to take the entire bottle of sleeping pills. I decided to take a nice little breakfast. Then I went inside my bedroom and consumed one pill. My head began to feel a little tipsy and but for some reason I felt that my brain was thinking more clearly.

Everything became clear. I realised that there was never a hundred percent element of luck involved. The options I wrote on the wheel were dependant on what I wanted to do on that day. So if I wanted to end my life, instinctively I would write down every option that will lead to my end. If I would to do something useful, I would write down more options to do something productive. Even the death options I sometimes threw in were few and in between, because naturally I did not want to die. This realisation hit me so hard; I did not want to swallow the sleeping pills anymore. In fact, I wanted to do nothing. So I took a nice, long sleep. A really long sleep......

Actor

2010-03-10T22:26:00.002+08:00

I can become anyone you want to be. A young smart chap in a business suit talking on his phone, some old man waiting for his time to come, a teenage girl weeping over her heartbreak. Yet I don't know who I am anymore. What's the point of having the ability to be someone else, when you don't even know yourself?

Omegasus

2010-01-25T19:45:00.008+08:00

Somewhere in a little known Caribbean island was a crowded bar full of rowdies, in it sat the Captain, with his leaning head, gulping down a bottle of cheap beer. He had lost everything, his respectable job, his reputation and his soul. In fact he should not be called a Captain, since he was anything but one. Instead he could be mistaken for a bum that had not shaved for years, or an old geezer whose only purpose in life was to drink his miseries away.

There was nothing much to worry for him about. He had earned enough money for a life's supply of booze during his voyages across the seven seas. No one in the island recognised him even though his face had appeared on the headlines of every newspaper. But still, whenever he tried to sleep, he began to hallucinate about all the young gentlemen and fine ladies that boarded his ship. He could only wince as he revisited their desperate and horrified faces before they dropped deep into the water, never to resurface again.

"Get me another bottle," he gestured to the bartender, who was wearing a velvet vest with an almost perfect bowtie that sat comfortably near his neck.

"Here ya go! Hmm, heard there're a few rogue waves near the area. I sure hope the fishermen 'round here are okay,"

"Rogue waves......"

It was a gloomy night, the skies overcast, and the rainclouds covering the already faint crescent moon. The Omegasus, an impressive luxury cruise liner with a passenger capacity of 3800, was at the Grand Banks of Newfoundland, en route to Boston. At 21:20, The Captain had already received several messages about the impending thunderstorm and rogue waves. They also advised him to change course to dock at Trepassey harbour. But the Captain ignored these warnings, for he was confident of beating the storm. The Captain had met many storms during his voyages across the seven seas, and none of the ships he commanded during the storms were damaged. It was only at 22.13 did the Captain realised he had bitten more than he could chew and ordered to ready the lifeboats. The ship had 3689 passengers, but the lifeboats could only carry 1500 of them. Just as the Captain leaped onto a lifeboat, a gigantic wave overturned the boat. The Captain looked at his ship and saw the desperate and horrified faces of the young gentlemen and fine ladies before they dropped deep into the water, never to resurface again.

1988 passengers of the Omegasus died that fateful night. 1988 passengers who trusted the Captain with their lives. The story of the Omegasus' sinking splashed across the newspapers' headlines, and they all blamed the Captain for the deed. Even though the company gave all sorts of excuses, the Captain knew, deep in his conscience, that his cockiness caused the 1988 passengers their lives.

The Captain had a splitting headache. It always happened whenever he was reminded of that incident. Except that each time his head acted up, the pain would become sharper. Suddenly he lost all his will to live, not that there was much to begin with. After all, his life was just a bloody routine, where he drinks his beer at the bar, regretting his decision that night, until midnight, sometimes an hour or two after midnight, before heading back to the inn and trying to sleep in the filthy, reeking room.

Then, he had an absurd idea, and he began to run towards the docks. He gave a fisherman his entire life savings for a boat before sailing towards the sea.

It was a gloomy night, the skies overcast, and the rainclouds covering the already faint crescent moon. The Captain, with an old fishing boat, kept sailing forward. He had no compass or map, but he kept sailing forward. Raindrops began to pour from the sky and thunder began roaring through the sea. The Captain saw what he wanted, a rogue wave rushing towards him. The Captain sailed the boat faster, faster and faster towards the wave as he shouted at it, "You think you drive me crazy?"

Impolite Press

2010-01-12T20:54:00.004+08:00

Like sadistic tremours, that turn around all rumours,
are we just the sun in the day, or night in the hay?
When the ignorance takes a beating, bliss will fall through the gates.

Is man so selfish he cannot suffer?
Needs of the people placed first, solemn heads nursed.

Such a relevant society, we make to a decree,
inert life so as to speak, mimicking the houses beneath.
Needs of the people placed first, solemn heads nursed.

In a Sudden Tranquilised Setting

2010-01-12T20:43:00.003+08:00

We are not logical beings anymore. We are more like a rusty trumpet that plays like a dissonant delinquent. We do not speak our mind, but rather the simplistic ramblings of normal life bores us. Do not agree to whatever we say. Do try to comprehend the sudden jerks that we give off when the blade comes into the bell. Hug yourselves. Think twice before borrowing a stick, you might find it a little too fake. Faster is the key word in this rather irrational galaxy we live in, a transition to a better place, a place where your secrets are safe to the safes in the sky. What you do and what you say will make you afraid.

Weekly Short Story #3: Had Rather

2009-11-30T17:22:00.003+08:00

"Gabriel, don't do it!" I shouted in vain. The moment I opened the door I saw Gabriel pointing a handgun to his head, smiling delightfully at me.

"Dave, Dave, Dave, how nice to see you! But I guess I'd rather continue with my plan," He closed his eyes as he pushed the gun closer to his face,"Feeling happy that you're the last person I see before I die?"

"Why would you want to do this? Why the heck would you want to end your own life?"

He opened his eyes and said coolly, "Because I have lost all respect for humanity,"

"But what about your family?"

"My parents have already disowned, I doubt they even bother whether I'm dead or not. Besides, I'm doing them a favour anyway. All my other siblings will get my share of the inheritance, it's a win-win situation,"

"But what about all your friends? How would they feel?"

"Most of them left me when they heard I got disowned, after all who wants a poor useless man as his friend? And you, ever since we came back from the war you have been too busy building your house and making love with your wife, "

"Erm...what about your......"

"Wait, I get what you're doing. You probably called the police already, eh? And they asked you to distract me until they get here and subdue me, am i right? That's pretty clever man, that's pretty clever, but you know what? That ain't gonna..."

"No look Gabriel, I didn't call the police, but please...just think about what you're doing. Come on, put the pistol down and we can sit down and have a chat, please," I pleaded desperately. I was lying though, I was saying all these to stall for time, hoping that someone would come and salvage this situation.

"Why do you care? This is my life, damn it! Everyone used to call me weak, that I couldn't make any of my own decisions. I'm sick of this mess I'm in, Dave. I want to be strong, to prove that I'm not just another pawn. So I've decided to kill myself. It's my choice, and I'm not going to change my mind just because you asked me to, heck I've been looking forward to this day for months!"

"Gabriel, just...please,"

"Dave, I suggest you get out of this room, unless you want to see your friend blowing his brains into pieces. You're a good man, trying to help me and all that, I will remember you in my afterlife," With that, he closed his eyes and cocked the handgun.

"NO!" It was too late, he pulled the trigger. Blood spilled onto the wall behind him. He collapsed onto the floor with that smile on his face. I could never forget that face. Eyes of the devil's, a smile like a twisted lunatic.

Weekly Short Story #2: A Petty Sort of Crush

2009-10-31T23:35:00.005+08:00

"I told you, I own you on Facebook! So you'd better start tidying up our room now!" What the hell did he think we were? If he was not half paralysed I would have given him a hard punch onto his flubby face and hopefully make him spit out some blood for ordering me around like his slave. "Fine, Jacob," I hesitantly grabbed my creased clothes on the cluttered floor and placed them neatly into the wardrobe. Jacob wheeled himself in front of the computer with ease and began his daily routine of Friends for Sale. "Hey guess what," He picked up the can of Mountain Dew placed beside him and began gulping it down, "I'm another hundred thousand richer," He forgot to mention he was a hundred thousand richer on Friend for Sale. I never got the point of the game, after all it was just having a temporary virtual ownership over your friends and having a little topic for a conversation with them. But Jacob took it seriously, whenever someone buys the friends he owned, he would swear to get them back. In fact, recently he has been using real cash to buy 'locks' so that he can lock his friends to himself for a limited period. Quite a good waste of money. The perception of owning his friends did make him feel superior and helped him cope with his depression. I knew that he was using it to hide his insecurities, to hide his disability, to hide his bleak future caused by a disastrous accident. Still, he was beginning to cross the line with all the ordering around.

"Hey Clara, get me another can of Mountain Dew!" He shouted to the other end of our rented house. We moved in after the accident when we felt it was easier to take care of Jacob than living in a hostel with hundreds of students. The house was cheap, had decent facilities and was near the university. "I'll get it later, I'm too busy now!" Clara replied with a relatively softer shout. "I own you, damn it! And how the hell do you expect me to go down the stairs on a wheelchair to get it myself?" He crushed the empty can and flicked it to the ground, "Help me get rid of it, will you?" I gave him a hard stare, but his eyes were glued to the computer screen. Relax, he is half paralysed, it wouldn't be easy for him to throw it into the bin himself, I thought as I inhaled and composed myself. The door was given a hard knock before Clara walked in and handed Jacob the Mountain Dew. He snatched it away from her hands and returned to face the computer. "Come with me, we need to talk," Clara whispered into my ears as she gave me a sulk.

Normally when she said that it meant that something was wrong. I followed her out of the bedroom and into the living room. The living room was quite plain, with only a sofa and a 21-inch television, but we could not expect too much with the amount of money we paid for the rent. Clara looked up and stared at me, before she broke down and gave an exasperated sigh, "You know, the way he's treating us, I just can't stand it anymore, he and his stupid game. It's so..." "But he's half paralysed, and we are his only friends left. Especially when his at a state like this, we just have to bear with it" I interrupted her complaint. "So what if he is? That doesn't mean he can order us around so rudely like his pet," "We just have to bear with it," Clara gave another quick sigh after hearing it and walked away. I saw the look on her face as she left, and for that night I was rolling in bed and recalling that look she had. Was she correct? I thought as I heard Jacob's loud snores.

Clara was back to her normal self the next day. I asked her fruitlessly if she was okay and we pretended nothing had happened as the three of us entered the university together. "Hah, I bought Vincent for $210,000 dollars. What a cheap ass, I bet he's regretting all those things he said to me," Jacob gladly proclaimed to the both of us. Then, Vincent and his bunch of friends suddenly appeared in front of Jacob and blocked him, "Shut the hell up, you pile of shit," Vincent and Jacob were already on bad terms when they both had feelings for the same girl. Things got worse after the accident and Vincent got the girl once she saw the state Jacob was in. It did not help that Vincent called him names after the accident and asked everyone to do so. Everyone did after they stopped sympathising with Jacob after he started ordering them around.

"You calling me a pile of shit? I bought you and here you are calling your owner a pile of shit? Screw you, you dick!"

"Oh, that retarded Facebook game of yours. I see, you bought me. But do I look like I fucking care? Why don't you get up from your chair and punish me for calling you a pile of shit, you pile of shit,"

"Why you...Jonathan, help me with..." I immediately took a step forward.

"Jonathan, Jonathan, what are you, a dog to a useless moron? I can see the way he treats the both of you, the way he pushes you about. What are you going to do about it, huh? Are you going to help someone who only knows how to order others to do things for him? Come on, think!" I began to think about what Vincent had said, and suddenly lost all motivation to help Jacob.

"Clara, please, tell him off, tell him off!" That was the first time I actually heard Jacob say please, but Clara stayed rooted to the ground.

"The both of you, why won't you help me? You guys always stood up for me..."

"'Cause they finally realised what a pile of worthless shit you actually are, Mr. Jacob,"

"Shut the hell up, you bastard! I own you..."

Amid all the bickering, I looked at Clara, our eyes interlocked, asking each other for the correct words that should come out of our mouths.

Weekly Short Story #1: Guilty

2009-10-24T23:27:00.002+08:00

Everyday I would pray to God for my death. I was suffering from all the pain and disappointment in my life anyway, there was no point for me to live. Then my wish was granted and I felt sad ever since. I mean, it felt great when I was begging and pleading for what I wanted, it was like saying a 'Fuck you' to nature, telling her to destroy her creation. But when I died I realise I could not have the feeling again, neither could I store the memory I had of that feeling. So it was all wasted. How wasted...

2009-09-16T22:38:00.004+08:00

No one ever comes here anymore. What used to be a bustling town with an adequate population of 11,024, with its grandeur castles that towered over the serene Victorian cottages blowing lush smoke out of their chimneys, with the occassional sunburst seranading the emerald fields that outstretched into the teal mountains, which hung like a wave of curtains, has been reduced to a ghost town.

Pretty Face 2

2009-09-10T19:28:00.005+08:00

Warning: A lot of vulgarities

So I tell ya, yesterday was fuckin' ace man, fuckin' A. I went to that retard Andy's house party with ma buddies, and I tell ya, I wasn't there to celebrate that his new shit house and stuff. No man, I was there for da chicks! Been a long while since I had an f'ing good time, and man has needs, ya know, man has needs. So I looked around and I was like, "SHIT MAN! I'd an f'ing good time with all of them!" I have this policy, 'Once fucked, get the hell out'. So I ain't gonna hook up any'o them, or they be killing me. And then this girl suddenly just walked in, and I'm like thinkin' in ma mind, "HOLY SHIT, NICE BOOBIES!" Then I'm looking at her ass, and damn, it was fine! It was fine!

So I hooked ma buddies up with a bunch 'o bitches and I zoomed in on ma prey. Ma buddies, they call me an eagle. Ya know why? Cause once I see ma prey, I gunna grab it, and it ain't escaping ma claws. Earl the Eagle, mighty fine name, dun ya think? I be walking to her, and then I said my worst pick-up line, "Were you arrested earlier? It's gotta be illegal to look that good," and she laughed. I was thinking, DAMN-AMMM!, what a easy girl with a set of nice racks. I told her ma name was Eddie and she said hers was Racheal-something, I dunno! So we chatted awhile 'bout some boring old stuff and I asked her, "Screw me if I am wrong, but haven't we met before? "

She said no, and soon enough she was at ma house, and I can't describe how it was 'cause ya too young, but I tell ya, it was a f'ing good time.

She been calling me lately, but I dun really give a shit tho'. I'm a fuckin' eagle, that's all.

Am I Truly Happy?

2009-09-08T23:02:00.005+08:00

Maybe. I'm not sure if I'm happy now. Sure, I'm satisfied with my current life, it could be worse you know. At least I'm not starving to death or smack right in the middle of a war that doesn't concern me. That would be really unsatisfying. Yet I can't say that I am 100% happy. It seems to me that I still haven't found my purpose in life. How can one feel fulfilled when he does not even know what he is born into this world to do, and how to do it? And especially at this age, when I'm discovering my potential, yet I don't have the power to utilise it. One thing's for sure, I want to help people. It doesn't matter what or how. But still, you can't fully help someone if you can't even help yourself. Not easy though, for I'm a rebounding mass of energy inside (don't ask why) and sometimes, I need help too. For some reason though, the help I get from people close to me aren't quite effective. Maybe it's because the way I view my problems is different from how others view it. Just like everybody else, I guess. Even when I help others deal with their problems, it is just helping them identify the causes and giving them advice on how to solve it. Wait, why am I going into all these useless banter?

Well, do I even want to be truly 100% happy? Maybe not. Maybe I need some sorrow to make life more interesting. I don't know, frankly. All I know is that my life is good enough, and that I should treasure what I have now, before I grow up and can never do what I can do now again.

I know this is not a story but who cares? Do you even bother reading such a long-winded writeup? I don't know, frankly.

Vote Of No Confidence

2009-09-04T21:28:00.005+08:00

How many of you are sick of being so successful? How many of you are bored of having a good score in everything you do? I know many of you are, so today I stand here to tell you, tell you that I have had enough! Enough of feeling proud of myself, enough of being happy. This is the time for change. This is a time for us to overrule this regime that has been keeping the hatred hidden inside us for so long. We must tell ourselves, we are pathetic. We are unable to get anything right! We can never do well for anything at all! You might think, why make life so miserable for ourselves? Well, to tell you the truth, happiness is making our life miserable for ourselves. Which one of you think that you are actually worth anything? Well, you are wrong! None of you are masters, because you all lack the capacity -the capacity to do better!

We must rise against all these bright times! Today, we shall mark the great change. Today, the sky will be darker. Today, we will look upon ourselves as fools. Today, we shall give ourselves impossible tasks so that we can hate ourselves! Today, YOU shall vote for No Confidence!

Temur

2009-08-30T00:17:00.000+08:00

For some reason, I turned on the television. What I saw almost blinded me, but I covered my eyes to prevent my eyeballs from falling out and stuck them firmly back in place. The television set, it was displaying horrid pictures of naked pigtailed women with fanciful caught up names. I quickly grabbed my remote and changed the channel, hoping for some sort of salvation. But instead I got a salesman asking me to buy his house for his mortgage and live a fairytale life in his executive penthouse overseeing the moon and maybe Planet Earth. Cacotopias pounding on propesterous xenophiles quaking insert nu bohemian

Masked Mammon/Greed

2009-08-11T22:59:00.002+08:00

I took a sip of absinthe. It was extremely bitter compared to the other better quality ones I have tasted. They were more cooling and refreshing, but taste was not the main factor. I wanted to get drunk, dead drunk, and before long the effects of the alcohol kicked in. The world around me started to blur, my senses were dulling. I opened the fashion magazine lying on my lap and the first thing I saw was a well-endowed woman wearing a tight-fitting bikini. Normally, I would have been green with jealousy and tore the entire magazine into pieces, but with all the alcohol travelling down my bloodstream, I felt that I was that woman. The line between reality and fantasy had all but faded, and there I was, lying on my couch and imagining that I was a gorgeous lady with the perfect figure. This had been a routine ever since I subscribed to the fashion magazines. It helped me think that I was good-looking, instead of the ponderous and putrid body I really had.

I am Vanessa. I was born into a poverty-stricken family. My father was a nameless artist who was struggling to pay his rent. My mother walked out on us a month after I was born. Needless to say, I had a pathetic childhood. Potatoes were all I ever ate, and they were available on some days. As a result, I suffered from malnutrition; my bones could be seen sticking out from my skin on my weak frame.

My father amassed a large fortune when he started getting acclamations for his art works. We bought a charming mansion and I finally had the chance to eat everything I want to. Soon, I was gorging myself with food and I could not stop. I kept telling myself that I had to catch up and eat all the food I missed in my early childhood. As a result, I witnessed the deforming transformation my body was going through. My face, once slim, smooth, youthful and radiant, had now become puffed. My cheeks had become an inflated balloon and my chin, oh my chin! I had so many chins that I have lost count. Sure, my breasts have become gargantuan, but they now sagged like an old woman’s. My stomach made me look as if I was pregnant, and whenever I sat down the rolls of fat concealed my entire belly button. My legs were like giant tree trunks that had fungi growing all over them.

I was ashamed of my body, and rarely went out. My father kept asking me to go out, but I refused to listen. Even when he died, I did not go to his funeral, preferring to grieve at home over a few tubs of ice-cream. My friends had all left me. After all, no one wanted to be spotted walking beside me. So, I never left the mansion for years, eating deliveries from fast-food restaurants and paying bills through the Internet every day.

Thinking about my pathetic past and the absinthe was leaving sweaty and depressed. I decided to take a shower before continuing. As I walked past a wall covered with my father’s paintings, I noticed a particular painting called ‘Masked Mammon’ and it showed an overweight man wearing a mask being dragged into hell. It was his favourite painting, and I stopped for awhile and wondered if he was drawing me. Then I continue walking to the bathroom.

As soon as I entered the bathroom, I quickly closed the door so that no one could see me, although I knew there was no one in the mansion. I took of my thick clothes and stared at the mirror. Inside the mirror was a hideous monster that I wanted to kick, that I wanted to strangle, that I wanted to break into a million pieces to reveal a pretty flower hidden underneath. That monster was me. All of a sudden, I had an idea and grabbed the shaver lying on the sink. Those slimming advertisements with those perfect-looking models always said, “Shave your fats away!” That was what I was going to do. I was going to shave away the fats – for real. It was going to be quick and easy. I plunged the shaver deep into my stomach and pulled with great force. The shaver was like an ox ploughing through a farm. A portion of my skin was peeled. That was not enough. I shaved the same part another time. Fresh, raw meat was being torn away now. Blood was flowing from my wound. That was not enough. I had to get down deep, had to get down deep to remove all the fats. I continued shaving my stomach repeatedly, each time with more force. The pain was excruciating, but I told myself I had to shed my weight, then maybe the pretty flower inside me would be seen. I saw some yellow liquid spurting out, and for a moment there I thought I saw a small part of my intestines. I did not stop until I shaved for a whole ten minutes. By then, it was too painful for me to continue, and my screams were loud enough for my neighbours to hear. I looked at the bloodied shaver and asked myself, “What was I doing?”, before collapsing on the floor, watching my blood spread all over.

I finally understood the painting my father drew. Mammon was the god of greed. Greed will always be us humans’ undoing and the cause of our fall. Just like me, I was too greedy for food and thus I became obese, and I was too greedy to lose all my weight quickly, which is why I am now lying on the hospital bed and looking at the unsightly scars on my stomach.

Chicken Fly

2009-08-08T23:48:00.000+08:00

Once there was a little chicken called Young Chicken living in an English farm. The Young Chicken would always look out of the fence and see the big and beautiful grassland outside the farm. It really liked the green grass and colourful flowers there, and wished that one day it could move freely around the grassland. However, the fence around the farm was too tall for Young Chicken to jump over, so it asked the older chickens how to get over the fence. The older chickens laughed at it and said that the farm gave them food everyday, and it should be happy in the farm. Still, Young Chicken believed that the huge grassland was a much better place to be.

One day, Young Chicken saw a fleet of sparrows flying over the farm. It suddenly thought of flying across the fence, so Young Chicken flapped its wings and jumped. But it could not fly up and it fell down. The older chickens laughed at it again and asked Young Chicken to give up. Young Chicken did not care about them and tried again. It still could not fly, but Young Chicken continued to try flying everyday.

One day, it could flapped its wing and jumped. It could finally fly! It flew above the fence and landed on the great green grassland. It danced, it chirped, it was free! Young Chicken walked happily around the grassland,, while the older chickens ate their food in the farm.

Well-fair Check/ Come, Realisation of Blast, Come

2009-07-28T20:25:00.003+08:00

Look at those worthless socialist pigs there! Bunch of pampered boys earning money out of other's sufferings to buy those nice suits that they are wearing! They have never experienced any hardship at all, lucky bastards. I bet you a million that all of them just stayed at school to study so that they can get so much money now! Heh, they don't even contribute to our society at all! They just think that they are pretty big because they got the degrees?

Oh, look at them! They actually picked up trash on the floor! Phonies! How can they do this to the cleaners? They have to do their job to keep their job. With these little pesky insects, they'll be given the sack! You know what? They think they're great, think that they are superb, giving themselves a pat on their back. Such a small task, even I can do it myself! It's just that I understand, people need their jobs. They don't!

Wait, hold on a sec, let me queue up first. What the? Why the hell are there so many useless people here?! Can't they go get a job instead of just sitting on their asses here hoping for money from the taxpayers. It's these people that waste our government's money! More money could be spent to give those that deserve it, those that can't even afford shit!

Okay, I got my public assistance payment, great! Huh? Me? I deserve the money, of course! Look, I was a soldier, you know. A soldier, who sacrificed his life for the country! What about those socialist pigs? They don't! They just don't!

~~I PRETEND TO BE HIGHER THAN ANYONE ANYONE ELSE BECAUSE I AM AFRAID AM AFRAID OF MYSELF~~

Dark Matter

2009-07-24T23:25:00.006+08:00

Help I'm kept in a box
and I cant break out
It's made of steel and bolts
So I coo in my hoax
So I coo in my hoax

I'm an atom in your cell
just like everyone else
No one ever comes to help
when i ring the bell

FIRE BURNING OUT
FIRE BURNING out
FIRE burning out
Fire burning out
fire burning out
fire burningout
fireburningout

Pretty Face

2009-07-04T22:26:00.010+08:00

She pranced towards me, and I immediately broke my chain of mindless thoughts. I could not help but notice her brown bubbly eyes, so profound and full of optimism . Her hair was brownish-black with subtle blonde highlights, tied in a ponytail with her long side swept bans. She was dressed in a simple navy cardigan with yellow buttons and a checkered salmon pink skirt that revealed her slender legs, complemented with two ruby studs.

I wanted to get close to her, I wanted to have a little chat with her, I wanted to know everything about her. She was sitting alone, like an invitation for me. My feet were walking towards her uncontrollably. I was getting close to her. I was going to chat with her. I was going to know her. Then, like a bulletproof vest, a Jock sat beside her. I was crushed, utterly defeated. I was down in the dumps. I closed my eyes, told myself that I was still going to get her no matter what and mustered enough courage to continue heading towards her.

A thought crossed my mind and I stopped dead in my tracks. What if she was not the girl I thought she was? What if she was just another superficial being? What if this was an infatuation? I took a good look at myself and retreated. I continued to observe her from a distance, watching her giggling together with the Jock. I saw her exchange numbers with him, while I hid in the shadows, ashamed of my big ideas. And I watched her slipped past me, as she walked out of the room.

Why couldn't I just have tried? Why did I fear the future when I didn't even try? I slapped my face, if only...

If only......

None Like This

2009-06-30T23:29:00.005+08:00

"Today's weather is rather decent, eh,"
As if I really cared.
"Man, it's too damn hot now, wished I could have a drink,"
Stating the obvious, well, hopefully silence means consent to him.
"You know I have had this song stuck in my head. If I remember correctly the chorus was 'I love her and she loves me' or something. Very catchy,"
He got to be shitting me, yet another one of those songs.
"Well, you know, I will really miss MJ and all,"
Yea, right, I bet he just read his death on the newspaper headlines and happily proclaimed it to everyone.
"Hey, nice hairstyle,"
I didn't even style it in the first place.
"Look, I'm trying to be friendly and all, so can you at least respond to some of my questions? You know how hurt I feel now?"
"Hurt? Well I just lost my job because of some damned investors who pulled out of the company when the stocks were dropping and now its bankrupt. And you know what? My doctor just called me and said I was tested for some terminal illness that requires a thousands of dollars per month, so before you come and say how hurt you are just because I didn't respond to your superficial crap that I hear everyday you should see if I'm feeling fine. And I'm not,"

"Hey, guess what. You're an ass,"

"Screw yourself,"

Thanks for Being Myself

2009-06-14T15:24:00.003+08:00

Who are you seriously trying to be? I know you are some lost soul drifting around aimlessly, but only I can guard the gates. You think just take a picture of me and wear it around your face hoping to fool them into coming with you. Let me tell you, you may look like me but you are nothing. Nothing, but a worthless junk that should have been kept under the bed because of your lack of a spine. I wished that you could have at least asked but then even that would be futile with your insensitivity. Now I have to bear the shit you poured onto me.

I Don't Want to be Emotional

2009-06-03T23:21:00.004+08:00

Happy. Joy. Elated. Whenever I am on the set I have to pull my mouth to form a smile. They say professionals separate work from their personal lives but unfortunately I have some problem with that because I am hit by their booming voices when I screw up a line. Yesterday, I was drinking whisky from a mug after I heard how my children were kidnapped and murdered before being dumped at some canal. The kidnappers said that they did it because I acted in the wrong show. Great logic, my children have to bear the brunt of the producer's creativity. Now, I have to continue to go to the premiere of that show to let the public know how brave I am. But inside I am disintegrating. Pieces of my mind are falling off like the old paint on a ceiling. Couple that with a bunch of long-nosed reporters that will crowd around me, hoping to dig up some of my dirty secrets or form some sort of conspiracy that will jepardise my acting career. I do not know how long my latex skin will last before it is torn apart to reveal a three month old foetus that would do anything to stay in its mother's womb for eternity. I don't know. Right now I must stand in front of the mirror and repeat to myself, "Be brave, Victoria, be brave," Yet everytime I look into my eyes I see my children and I just want to go jump off a cliff. I must dry my skin in the sun to make it hard and thick.

I think I am out of my mind, for I have forgotten when was the last time I was human. I am sick of putting up with my emotionless self. I want to see me cry again.

Layman's Laments

2009-05-26T23:12:00.002+08:00

I used to find meaning in everything but now after all these years I prefer to just slouch on my chair and appreciate things for what they are. After all I'm an old man, and time is kind. She slows down for me, for me to relax, because I know the deadline is almost here. Yet, I don't feel much. There's not much for me to feel anyway. I have the only memories that stopped for me to catch up. I used to keep asking the memories to run faster, but when you realise the little amount of time you have left, you just want to catch up with them. What's the use of having too many of such memories if you cannot reminiscence with them over a cup of freshly brewed coffee. I could remember when I was thirty. Man, those were the times. So much zest and passion in doing that I could never have the time to sit down and just reflect. Maybe that's why I would never want to spend my final years in a nursing home. For my entire life I have been packed in a society that is secretly concerned. I used to keep myself busy. There was an activity everyday. Perhaps my reason for doing so is to stop myself from thinking too much. Afraid, I guess. It wore me out, so much that now all I do is pigeonhole myself.

Everything has frozen. It is time. Goodbye.

雨伞

2009-05-26T23:05:00.002+08:00

“儿子，出门时一定要带你的雨伞！”我的父亲叫道。我说了一声“哦”，就捉着一把雨伞，然后走出了家门。我一踏出家门，就立刻满身大汗。幸好有我的雨伞来挡那热烈的太阳，不然后果不堪设想。记得父亲曾经告诉我，几年前有一位科学家，想亲自体验阳光的热度，站在太阳底下，结果过了几分钟就中暑，医生都救不了他。父亲有对我说过，爷爷那一代人因为不顾我们的环境，所以造成我们现在的地球变得多么的热。虽然大地有警告人类不要在损害她，但他们还是继续燃烧化石燃料，继续毁林，造成了温室效应，使全球变暖，结果北极区的冰帽全部都融化，海平面上升。大部分的陆地也被水淹了，那些活着的就逃去中国，因为它够高，还没被水淹。可是，中国的政府无法照顾每个人，只可以重视中国人还有一些富有的人，其他就变得很贫穷，就像我的家庭一样。本来，我的爷爷在新加坡开了一间很成功的公司，结果什么也没了。
我走在空的路上，没有人有能力付得起车。路旁到处都是仙人掌。由于其他的植物忍不住这么高的热度，只有仙人掌可以生存，来给我们新鲜的空气与食物。在太阳下走了半个小时后，我终于达到我的顾客的家。我从老板听说他很富有，若我清理好他的屋子，可能会有些赏钱。

我按了门铃，一位非常英俊的男人就出现在我的面前，穿着一件很贵的衣。“我猜你是来清理我的家，请进来。”他说道。我就进去他的屋子，开始打扫。我清理完了，他就来付钱，而且还给我十五元赏钱。他看我脸上露出的笑容，便说：“你想赚更多钱吗？”我立刻答应，他就说：“好，那就跟我来，让我介绍你一个东西。”说完了，他就带我去一间房。

我一走进那间房，直接感到很清凉。那是我人生第一次有这种感受，便问他：“你是如何取得这种效果？”“这是了冷气机的魔力。你帮我修理多一台冷气机，就可以有一百元，再加上我会让你随时来这里享受冷气。”我什么也不说，立刻开始修理他的冷气机。由于我对冷气机不是很熟，过了老半天还不可以修理好冷气机，告诉他我明天会再来尝试修理冷气机。

当我回到家，父亲就问我今天发生了什么。我告诉他我替我的顾客修理他的冷气机，他就立刻叫：“你懂为什么冷气机可以发出冷气？那时因为它是把热气传去外面。你帮着些富有的人修理他们的冷气机，他们就把热气传给我们，你觉得为了一些钱，是值得吗？”我还没开口，他就说：“我。。。对你太失望了。。。太失望了。。。”然后，他走进他的房里，锁了他的门。我那时觉得很内疚，就想到一个主意来挽回局面。

下一天，我又来到我同一个顾客的家，跟他说：“我想让你看一件东西。”我就拿出一个锤子，狠狠地打冷气机，把它弄成几十粹。

Notes:

My chinese sucks I know that
This can be translated very well into english with more details that I have in mind but i'd rather show this unedited

Shaking Without Cans

2009-05-21T20:46:00.004+08:00

My eyes are dry from tiredness. Frankly, I don't want to hear you talk. Just plunge me down into the deep dark pit to the Neverrealm. While I was there I met two demons who approached me. One of them was hunched-back because of the burden he had to carry, while the other one was pouncing on ten legs. "Voluptuous human," The burdened one sobbed, his tears touching the molten ground. My feet were freezing with heat, after all I couldn't feel different types of pain. They all felt the same. I pitied the other demon, he must be pouncing for a reason. "War-man!" The pouncer shouted before going into a frenzy. I was pressurised, it was heart-breaking to talk to two demons who were on top of their shelves, staring at me, when I was on the edge of the floor. Hey, frightening moss, come save me man. I am having some problem fixing myself with this two demons talking to me. But guess what that voice said? You just need to keep it slow, absorb their vibes, move around a little bit. So okay, I tried engaging in conversation with them. We talked about the weather in Neverrealm, it was never really warm there. More like freezing hot, damn. Then they asked me a question that changed my perspective forever, "Do you wish to sit around and chat with demons for the rest of your life?" I shivered, cold you see. Then I ran, ran towards the top of the pit. Forget about them man, all they do is bring you down so please leave. Thank you very much for my suggestion.

Come, Blast of Realisation, Come

2009-05-03T22:28:00.000+08:00

He stood there with his trumpet. "Viva la revolution!" He cheered before blowing a skull numbing trumpet solo that tore my ear drums. I was dancing like I was on drugs pretending to be in another world while he blatantly announced, "Today we shall get rid of our incapable leaders! For years we have been oppressed, our mouths sewed shut by their 'justified' laws. Sure they can talk big and promise us everything but we have been betrayed, my friends. What they are doing is treason! Treason so serious that I would cut their necks and hang them into a chicken coop where their blood would be licked by their fellow chicken-mates."

Well quite a number of well-dressed men were walking past him, talking to their bosses on their mobile phones while chomping on a vegetable sandwich. He continued with another of his improvised trumpet solo and made another one of his speech. "Today, we shall walk hand in hand. We shall come together and take this matter into our own hands. WE MUST TELL THEM THAT WE WILL NEVER TAKE THIS LYING DOWN!" He blew a short trumpet lick with a high substained note at the end. Then, like a finale of a film, he shouted, "COME WITH ME MY CHILDREN, LET US SET FIRE TO THE BUILDING WHERE THOSE BLOODSUCKERS ARE AT! THEN I SHALL ASSUME THE POSITION AS THE GREAT RULER OF THIS free COUNTRY!"

A couple of teenage schoolgirls holding their genuine Dior bags giggled at his pants, which frankly, looked like cheese nibbled by mice.

Sugar Castle

2009-04-14T21:37:00.005+08:00

I was placed on a pedestal, people were orbiting around me, examining every detail I had. "He did a very good job. Look at the expression on his face...indescribable...It is as if he walked out of a wreck alive, beautiful..." I beamed in joy as I heard those words coming out from a famed art critic. Of course, I could not smile as I was just a piece of art, but those words made me feel so proud of myself and my creator. It was so good to be in the limelight, no one to take away all the attention showered on me.

However, everyone would rather look at the new sculpture erected right beside me on the next day. "Man this new one...I feel so speechless looking at it. It seems that I'm in a place with lights floating above my eyes while I dance to its magnificence. They should just remove that lousy old statue lingering beside it, it's so pathetic it's like a fucking inclusion in a flawless diamond," The art critic clutched my heart with such force that it exploded. I would kill for another day like the day before, to be remade, to be seen for the first time again.

I wished I could cry with my marble eyes.

A Walk Down A Business District

2009-04-12T14:48:00.008+08:00

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One in a thousand? Or one of the thousand?

Shady People of the Night

2009-04-05T15:46:00.002+08:00

Something was there. Welsch started increasing his pace, but slowed down when he assured himself that it was probably just a nature-lover enjoying a midnight stroll. The footpath stretched into infinity. If he tried speeding up he would not have much energy left for the next half. Still, Welsch was feeling rather uncomfortable. Darkness filled up every inch and corner of the place, with only the lamps fragilely illuminating the narrow path sandwiched in between the trees. The trees were onlookers, concerned but powerless.

Welsch took a glance back with the corner of his eyes. The enlarged vessels in his eyes were up to no good. He then double-checked, and realised that there was no doubt about it. Something, or someone, was following him. There was a dark aura emitting from it. And it was accelerating. Silence was what Welsch could only hear other than his own panting. He turned his head back at regular intervals. Everytime, it would be nearer to Welsch, together with the lamps that shivered with him. The throbbing of his heart became more obvious. Welsch knew that he had to get away from it before something horrible happens. He took a huge breath and directed all the blood to his legs. Unfortunately, he led himself into a realm of pitch black.

The trees there were Frankensteins, their devilish branches interlocking with one another, sucking the rays of light dry. Welsch had to stop. His legs were simmering and his lungs were almost out of breath. He knew the only way out was to confront it. The rustling of leaves got louder, and Welsch made his last stand. "I knew I did wrong! But it has been so long, and I...I have been punished long enough," The only response he got was more rustling of the leaves. "I was drunk then, and you were alone and so...so pretty. I just couldn't help myself, it was as if you were a gift from God," Still, nothing, Welsh continued, "She betrayed me you see, she slept with other men. I just wanted to make her feel how I felt...I didn't want to kill you, but I knew that you were going to tell everyone. I couldn't allow that to happen!"

The trees let out a ear-piercing wail, which kept reverberating. Welsch could not stand it anymore, he got back up and ran in limbo. He had to get out of there, one way or another. A fallen tree branch pierced itself into his calves, and he tumbled down and dropped into a canal. He landed on his back with a crack. He smiled as he laid there, blood slowly escaping from his body. At last he would be free.

2009-03-29T22:30:00.003+08:00

"I have been alone for so long that I couldn't even keep track of time. If you guys came a few days later I'd probably gone insane. Well, at least my intelligence is almost equal to a genius now."

2009-03-28T23:36:00.002+08:00

"I stood at the cementary, glancing at all the dead people that used to talk to me. It made me feel so empty, as if my existence was just like theirs."

2009-03-28T17:29:00.003+08:00

"Well, you thought we were never going to get you? Now you are going to be punished for your stupidity. We're going to pluck your tongue out, then leave it dry under the burning sun. That'll make you learn. I'm sure it will."

Holy Crap Best Story Ever

2009-03-16T19:30:00.007+08:00

Written by Vincent and Martin

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons or events, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

I opened my eyes, and found myself in a dark area. There was barely enough room for me to move about, as if I was being boxed up. I was being shaken, and I could hear faint voices. Then, I had a throbbing headache. Before long, I lost my consciousness.

I woke up again. This time I was in some sort of hut, beside four of my friends whose hands were also tied up. I was caked in dried blood, and several corpses surrounded me. The air was filthy, the smell of rotten organs and dried blood forcing themselves into my nostrils. Suddenly, I heard footsteps, and I quickly pretended to be asleep. It was a group of soldiers, with walking proudly a Caucasian. The Caucasian pointed at the five of us and laughed maniacally, before uttering, “It’s gonna be hell for them soon.”

Then, I panicked and managed to break free of the ropes that I was tied with and conveniently picked up a jack knife that was lying near one of the bodies. I slowly walked on the wooden floor, hoping to sneak up on them and attack them from behind. Alas, I accidentally tripped on a corpse and fell with a loud thud. I heard shouts from the outside and I knew that the guards there were alerted. I was in a difficult situation. I had to act fast before the guards come, but there was no way I could escape. Fortunately, I spotted a window and I instinctively made a dash towards it. I crashed through the window and sprinted out.

The siren was sounded and I could hear shots being fired. I continued running through the forest with the soldiers on pursuit for a while, before stopping to catch a breath. At of a sudden, I saw Mr. Bean walking towards me. I immediately giggled. He said nothing, as always, but he waved to me and showed me that he was taking Teddy for a morning walk, before giving me a strip tease. He wore his underwear on his head. Then he saw the soldiers approaching, and he ran comically towards the soldiers, naked. I was touched by how self-sacrificial he was, but I had to keep moving so that his efforts would not go to waste.

After running for about ten minutes, I met a mysterious but familiar looking man who told me he had just escaped from captivity. He proceeded to sing Bangawan Solo. Upon finishing his stellar performance, he gave me a banana, saying, “It will give you luck,” Again, he saw the soldiers approaching. He then did a strip tease, which I did not really enjoy it this time, and he ran towards the soldiers. Hoping to erase the memory of the strip tease, I tried stepping on the banana peel, hoping to gain some super mystical power. My wish came true and I soon found myself gliding on the banana peel down a steep hill. It was a breath-taking experience, but I was interrupted by the deafening sound of helicopters. There were also tanks closing onto me.

I made a swift move and flew past many trees and landed in a swamp. I was dirty, but relatively unscathed. Coincidentally, Master Yoda was fishing at the swamp. Fuelled by vengeance, I asked him to be my master. He agreed and took me in. For nine months I hid in a cave and practised.

One fine day, Master Yoda informed me that he was jealous of my Jedi skills and could no longer teach me any further. Disappointed, I walked out of the cave. Just then, Spiderman swung and hit into me. We had a nice chat and decided to cohabit. He showered me with care and concern when I was depressed, with his nice abs, and soon we got married and lived happily ever after.

Lived happily ever after? No, instead the greatly feared Darth Sidious made an alliance with the soldiers and began taking over the world. Meanwhile, Spidey and I lived together in Yoda’s cave. We had triplets-Tom, Dick and Harry. However, when we heard that Darth Sidious had taken over the world, we left our children in the care of Yoda and embarked on a journey to Antarctica, where Darth Sidious’ main headquarters was held. We knew it was going to be a tough journey that would take a long time, so we decided to travel using Yoda’s private Death Star.

While we were heading towards the Antarctica, we stopped by Singapore, which was in dire straits. Most of the Singaporeans had become retards, while the hawkers were now gong-fu ninjas that were jumping across the roofs of the skyscrapers and scaling up the Flyer. Worse still, the great almighty leader Mr Lee Kuan Yew was held hostage at the Istana. Without his leadership, the majority of the Singaporeans were very sad, while some of them could only find solace by training their gong-fu. We immediately landed our Death Star on the National Stadium. Then, we were warmly received by a wave of satay sticks heading towards us. Luckily, my beloved Spidey unleashed his web and caught all the sticks. After that, I used my Force Pull on the hawkers and then were all sucked towards me. Spidey tied their unconscious bodies onto the street lamp posts and then we rushed towards the Istana to save Mr Lee.

When we reached the Istana, the clone of Mr See, Mr Megan Pian was already waiting for us. He was a horrendous sight, carrying a 3 kilograms beer belly and he had hair that looked like he needed Beijing 101 treatment immediately. He took out his lightsaber and announced, “You put no head on table,” before charging towards me. I did not understand what he was saying and almost fell asleep listening to him but fortunately, Spidey swung to my rescue and kicked his lightsaber away from his hands. I took the chance to reach for my lightsaber and slit his wrist. He shrieked in pain and whined, “Pain but you is not defeating me yet,” To which I replied with a taunt, “I think something must have went wrong during your cloning process!” Then, he said, “You wrong, I always no wrong,” before laughing at me. I surprised him with a stab to his belly, but I realised it was impenetrable. He continued with his laughter. I did not give up, for I had Plan B. I took out a plate of barbecued chicken wings from my pocket. The moment he saw it, he begged on his knees for the chicken wings. Although I wanted to save them for the final battle, I reluctantly threw the plate into a pit that led to hell. Like a dog chasing his bone, he followed the plate and disappeared into hell. We heaved a sigh of relief and untied Mr Lee. As a reward, he gave us $5 million dollars in CPF and unlimited Medisave funds although we did not live in Singapore. Still, we accepted it, saluted him and continued our journey to Antarctica.

Halfway throughout the journey, Spidey and I felt hungry, so we decided to head to America to get some fried chicken wings. However, we did not expect to see an oversized population there. Apparently, they were gulping down gallons of lard proudly sponsored by the forces of the Galactic Empire. We cut through them like a knife slicing butter and soon found out that Michael Jackson had been kidnapped by Sidious for singing ‘Abuse of Sid’ during his comeback concert. We fought our way through plastic surgeons loitering on the streets until we reached the wrathful and mighty Dark Sith Lord, Mr See, with his signature beer belly. The moment he saw us, he removed his wig, revealing the expanse flatland on his head that was so shiny it almost burnt our retinas. Then, he took out his lightsaber. Before engaging a duel with me, he took out a piece of his curry chicken that was stuffed inside his wig, swallowed it whole and announced, “MAKANSUTRA!”

I took out my lightsaber as well and moved forward to him. Then we both glared at each other while sidestepping. We were both waiting for the other party to strike first, so that we could show off our parrying and counter-attacking skills. Unfortunately, no one made any attempt to attack, so both of us just kept dancing around in circles. But after a few minutes of doing so, I could see that the curry chicken he had just eaten was starting to have an effect on him. He was sweating profusely, and I could hear his stomach rumbling. All of a sudden, I felt bored of this duel and I utilised the Force and blew him away. Then, with so much strength, I pierced my lightsaber through his tummy, only to find him bursting into a giggle, “Heee heee hee, so ticklish,” With that, he just dropped into a bottomless pit that appeared out of nowhere, and he could never come back again. We saved Michael Jackson by burning the lard that stuck him to a wall. He was extremely grateful, and gave us his nose and after that, he returned to continue what he did best.

After the tiring battle, I felt rather hungry. Seeing that there was nothing in America but lard, I had nothing to eat, nothing else other than that nose. I wanted to wear it so that I would be more attractive to Spidey, but my hand suddenly became uncontrollable and it got hold of the nose, and then dropped the nose into my mouth. It tasted like shrimp. Though it was not filling, the fact that I had just eaten someone’s nose made me feel rather energised, and soon we were up in the sky, sitting comfortably in the Death Star, heading to Antarctica.

Finally, we reached Antarctica after a few detours with a slight delay. Even though we could just blow Darth Sidious‘ base together with the entire Earth using the Death Star, we decided against it as it was not ‘honourable’ enough, and the fact that doing so would shorten this story by half a page and disappoint the readers. So we got off the Death Star and encountered Sidious’ army of mental patients that have escaped from an asylum. We fed them some medicine and they became idle dudes walking about aimlessly.

We continued walking until we saw Darth Sidious’ fortress. It was a magnificent sight; its gothic architecture combined with metal was a perfect mix of the old and futuristic. Heck, there was even a giant laser shooting up from the building. We moved to the gate and threw a grenade through it, expecting some defence system to activate. Surprisingly, there was no alarm or turrets whatsoever. Maybe Darth Sidious was affected by the economic recession. The inside of his fortress was Spartan, with only a few chairs and tables randomly placed. Then, we saw a dark figure standing at a corner.

"Welcome, young Skywalker. I have been expecting you." The dark figure was Darth Sidious! Before I could respond, Spidey interrupted, “Hey Sidious, before the both of you proceed with the awesome final battle, may I ask why is this called your headquarters? I mean, seriously, there’re no laser turrets, mines or even guards to defend you. Heck, you’re the only one here. And by the way, my dear is not called Skywalker,

“Shut up, web-head,” Sidious retorted before taking out a set of Chinese Chess, “Now, young Skywalker, you will die,” I immediately saw this as an invitation to my favourite pastime and quickly sat on the chair, arranging the chess pieces. We started playing, and his skills were as equally matched as mine. After a five hour gruelling match, I finally surrounded his General and said, “Checkmate!” He stared at me, from his eyes I could see that his mind was deconstructing. Apparently, he was too overconfident with himself, and that overconfidence was his weakness.

"Do not trouble yourself about Belderone. It may suit our ultimate purpose to have the Republic believe that they have chased us from their precious Core. As regards your concern for keeping secret my whereabouts, I am moved. But here, too, I begin to see a way to engineer events in our favor. Yes, I begin to see the blazes along the trail Skywalker and Kenobi will follow. Their single-mindedness will deliver them into our hands, Lord Tyranu," He said while doing a striptease. I knew he was crazy and quickly took out my lightsaber. He took out his and fought with me naked. I tried targeting his weak point, but he fended off all my attacks. In fact, his Jedi arts were so good that he split my lightsaber into half and pushed me onto the ground. As he raised his lightsaber and got ready to execute me, I called out for Yoda. Yoda appeared out of the blue with my beloved children. Together, the children shouted cutely, “Sidious! So old, ugly wrinkled face, hahahaha or bi quack!”Sidious was so humiliated that he ran away like a pussy with his hands covering his face, with his exposed butt facing us. Then, he slipped on a banana peel and out of panic; he had diarrhoea on the spot. His excretion was so acidic that it melted him. The great Darth Sidious had become a mixture of poop. I decided to cook the mixture with some curry. Boy, it was good.

Here I was, standing on the peak of Mount Everest, I thought to myself, “It was a harsh one,” As I rejoiced my victory with my family, I looked at Spidey-dar-dar and asked, “Shall we have five more children?” Then we went back to Yoda’s cave, and screams of laughter and joy could be heard in the middle of the night.

Alternate ending:
Here I was, standing on the peak of Mount Everest, I thought to myself, “It was a harsh one,” As I rejoiced my victory with my family, I looked at Spidey-dar-dar and asked, “Shall we have five more children?” All of a sudden, Mary Jane saw us and ran towards us. She gave me a slap and barked, “How can you be so unfaithful to me, Spidey? And I can’t believe you two homosexuals actually had three children! Oh my god, Spidey, you’re coming back to New York with me.”

With that, she held Spiderman’s hands and walked away. I was so sad that I cried while walking from Everest back to Yoda’s cave. Yoda saw how sad I was and comforted me. He showered me with care and concern when I was depressed, with his nice wrinkles, and soon we got married, had ten more children and lived happily ever after.

2009-02-21T18:21:00.000+08:00

LeaguePC [Version 10.0.0174]
Copyright (c) 2016 League Private Limited. All rights reserved.

E:\Users\John>start model_answers.exe

Model Answers 2.5.5.6b
Citizen Version (Non-Upgradeable)
Copyright (c) 2017 Answers Pte Ltd (answerspteltd.com)

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Dying Rose

2009-02-13T20:22:00.006+08:00

The edges of your leaves have turned black from the ashes. The thorns you used to display with pride has been plucked clean from your stalk, for the safety of those that use you as a temporary symbol of love. Your leaves have been punctured with little holes from the care of those that grew you.

But who cares?
You have served your purpose.
Now your only objective left in your ill-favoured life
is to end the suffering.
Isn’t it ironic?
You were, for a brief moment in time,
beauty, happiness, hope.
What about now?
Few appreciate you,
the rest
shall just make snide remarks
and send you on your way to your
crematorium.

wakeup2

2009-02-09T20:18:00.008+08:00

I am a dreamer.
Yet how I wish I can wake up,
end my dreams on reality.
Terrifying,
but I still have to keep sleeping.
For once I wake,
the world ends.
Having the world in your hands,
the ability to crush this wasteland at anytime
sounds so splendid.
It isn't,
because I was once of the same species as them.
A great predicament
as I have seen few angels hovering above the wilderness.
They are unable to convince me, however, of the charred view
I have of the world similar to what used to be mine.
The hatred, selfishness, destruction, the greed
Oh wake me from this nightmare!
Just like the generation before-my generation,
they never know when to stop
and they never know that the wars they have
will wake me up someday.
Oh no, not another.
And this time for no right or reason.
Quick, I have to find some good to keep me asleep.
NO. RESIST. DO NOT. DONT. WAKE. UP.

15min onli

2009-01-16T21:06:00.006+08:00

To Anthony and other waiters

First minute

I held the tray, walked up the second floor and chose a table in the corner. It was perfect, as the table in front of me had been taken up and there was only one empty table to the right of me. I unwrapped the burger and started eating. It was greasy, and tasted like the other thousand burgers I had tasted in this fast food restaurant- delicious but unmemorable. It was just something to keep myself busy and to show that I was able to afford something that cost more than a plate of rice but had a smaller portion. Then, I took a gulp of the drink. It was diet soda.

Second minute

I started looking around. The person seated at the table in front was typing something with his laptop. His eyes were completely fixed on the screen, and he never looked up, even when he was drinking. There was another person, playing with his PSP while eating. I guessed he did not bother about how greasy his hands were. Seeing how engaged those two were with their electronic devices, it made me regret not bringing my phone. Bo said he was only going to be ten minutes late, and we were just meeting for a short while, so I found no meaning for bringing it. Looks like I was wrong.

Third minute

Only one-third of the burger was left, and half of the French fries were gone. I had never eaten so fast before. When I had nothing to do other than to eat, I would keep on eating without realizing how much I had ate. I took a break from eating and saw a girl just came up and sat at a table. She was alone, but she had the company of her headphones. I looked down and decided to finish my burger.

Fifth minute

Time was crawling like a baby with asthma that had just gone to run a hundred metres. I had just finished the fries and my drink was my only lifeline. It was half-empty and the half left were filled with a lot of ice. I was in deep thought. After all, it was the only thing I could do that could let me perceive that time was going faster. I thought about how for the entire fourteen years of my life, I had been following instructions. I had been so busy doing routine after routine, never stopping and questioning why. And I had never waited for anyone before. Either someone was already or I was late, so my first experience with waiting did not turn out well.

Eighth minute

A group of guys came and sat beside me. They interrupted me by blasting ‘Numb’ with their phone. By now I was sucking air from the cup, so all I could do was to bob my head to the rhythm of the song.

Eleventh minute

I was starting to sweat a little. I was listening to the same song put on loop for the third time, and they were still head banging and shouting out the lyrics with their rough voices. Worst of all, they were giving me glances every now and then, as if they were trying to say that I was just a pathetic loner who could be crushed by them anytime. She already had her friend with her, so looking there would just make me feel worse. I kept looking down. The impulse to leave the place was getting stronger. Doing nothing was really making me crazy.

Fifteenth minute

Bo finally came. He was like an angel, coming down to save me. I was relieved-finally I could prove to them that I was not a loner. Finally I could leave this place, and forget about everything I had thought about over some small talk.

wake_UP_One

2009-01-03T13:44:00.001+08:00

"We must not wake him up"
"Why?"
"It will end us all."
"How do keep him asleep?"
"Keep pumping him with the toxins."

We moved swiftly, treading light steps, stopping for nothing. In the end we reached Fife River. We opened the barrel of radioactive waste and poured it in.

"Guess that ends it, right?"
"I hope so..."

Just then, he rose from the water.

"Shit, what now?"
"Keep moving, and remember, don't look at his eyes."

He felt magnificent. His shadow, I could have swore, covered a few square miles. Somehow I secretly wished he would talk to us, but another part of me was afraid of him. Especially if he was fully awake.

"Who dares wake me,"He boomed.
"No no no, sir. You seem very tired, I would suggest you return to your resting."
"I am fully energized. And I know what both of you have done."
"I sincerely believe that we have done nothing. If you would excuse us, we really should get going."

"LIES. I CAN SMELL IT. NOW THAT I AM FULLY AWAKE, I COMMAND YOU TO TURN AROUND AND LOOK INTO MY EYES!"His echoes shook the mountains.

I had to turn back, I had to look into his eyes. What was the worst that could happen? Then, I saw, saw his emotionless eyes. My eyes started burning, as I felt myself transforming...

False Fight

2008-09-17T18:14:00.010+08:00

It was an agreement that would benefit both of us. Fighting would get people to look at us, be interested, cheer us, help us or stop us. There could not be any other more efficient way of attracting attention and gaining popularity. So it was agreed that we would let one side win first, and let the other side triumph later. A plot will be thrown right into it, just like a soap opera. After that we would emerge as good friends again, to give that happy ending.

The first time went pretty well. We pretended that we both had a crush on this girl, who unknowingly got involved, and argued for twenty seconds before we reached the climax of that episode. We pushed against each other, as if we were bulls interlocking our horns. I followed the script and stopped pushing after a few minutes and I lost. The ratings were good, with most of our classmates looking at us.

I won the next two fights. Everything was perfect. Our stance were correct, we said our lines properly. I figured if we went with the script, we would soon be stars of our blockbuster. I would not explain the next four fights that we had in detail, but somehow I felt that people started to ignore us. Perhaps they were bored of our false violence, or just stupid in missing out the good show. As time progressed, I started to notice that he won two times the amount of fights I won. It was also getting more violent. All he said was that it had to be more exciting, if not no one will watch. I figured that he was right, so I continued.

Then, the grand finale approached. "Let me win," he said, "then I will say that I should not sacrifice my friendship with you for her." We started the show. He pushed me onto the floor, and then knelt on my legs, forcing his entire body weight on them. He grabbed my neck and squeezed it before giving me a right hook. I started to suffocate, with my vision becoming blurred. The world was starting to turn grey, and I saw brown liquid coming out from my face as he continue punching my face. I closed my eyes, counted to three and opened. My mind started to become clearer. I saw something on top of me, like a policeman subduing a criminal. I saw a devil, smiling menacingly at me. Then he opened his mouth and muttered something, like an anus defecating on me, humiliating me. Was this the friend that I knew? Everything around me was turning black. My hands became uncontrollable, hitting the air. His grip tightening, I was about to die. I took one last breath in my almost-broken windpipe and focused.

Was I going to oppress, or be suppressed?

Become What I Saw

2008-09-01T20:32:00.009+08:00

WARNING: Some BLOOD and VIOLENCE
I decided not to add any words so intepret the story yourself. The humans might stand in a weird way and you might find that it sucks.

The End

Special thanks to:
Garry's Mod - Used to capture the pictures

Slambob - Creator of the map(Rp_OMGcity) used for this story

GREEKINATOR - Uploaded the night-only version of the map

>30

2008-03-21T22:58:00.006+08:00

This story contains some vulgarities/themes that are suitable for mature audiences(>13 of age). Viewer descretion advised.

Dedicated to all personal blogs.

It was another day. Of hell. I dread waking up in the morning to be stared by them. I had tried to be like them, but I can't. "Here's your breakfast, you had better finish it. Or else..." My mother laid a plate in front of me. Synthetic bacon and eggs. I looked as the yellow grease from the Synbacon drip onto the plate, and soon the plate was being flooded. Grease in digestible plastic. 137 grams of fat. I ate a third and threw the rest away.

On the streets. The stares. Life sucked, for me. After all I had a 'disorder' with my digestive system called the Moins Syndrome. I can only digest ten percent of what I eat. Never able to weight sixty kilograms. I was born like this. And they could never understand. Never. It did not used to be like that. There was once. Once, where my life was normal. I had friends. People to talk to. People who were not judgemental, so innocent, so pure. Until I was nine. See, adults were too damn stressed, that they started to eat more. Children and teenagers picked up their parent's habits. No one exercised. There were four out of ten obese in the world in 2018. By 2021, nine out of ten . Everywhere you looked, people were overweight. People who were obese became the trendy ones, those who were not soon became obese. SynCorps did not help much. Health organisations gave up. Obesity was 'acceptable' according to the health standard. Salvation. I will never achieve it. I guess.

"Freak,"It came from another boy walking past me. Hundred and ten kilograms. I ignored it. Could not be bothered. Heard too many. Hardened. Unaffected. Yet inside, I was crying. I was 'weak on the outside. Could not afford any more signs. Signs of vulnerability. The vulgarities, being sent to Coventry. I could take them. But not the stares. Like an alien in a glass room. Kill me. Rape me. Just, stop them.

School. Hell. My classmates glared as I walked towards my table. Murmurings.. Unwelcomed. It had never felt this bad, for some reason today. "Stop looking at me you fucks!"I could not take it anymore. Too much. Too much pain. Bottled up. Finally released. Like a prisoner."Shut up, you skinny ass,"Jacob shoved me, and I almost retaliated. Almost. Mrs. Walker came in. Disappointment. I slept through the whole lesson. I just could not bother.

Break time. I took an elevator up to the roof. I looked at the city. Blackness engulfing it. Alpine buildings. A sense of death everywhere. The significant difference between now and 2012, three years after my birth. There were still trees, people talked to each other, but now its a cold world. I stepped onto the edge of the roof. 183 floors. Sure death. I closed my eyes. Prepared to take a big step forward. Down a bottomless pit. End my pain.I had tried to befriend them. Rejected many times. Changed my personality for the better. Ate fifteen meals a day. Pretended to weigh eighty kilograms. Everything I did was futile. I never had a choice, never will. But I will do anything to be normal.

I stood motionless. Like a stone. The force of the impact will not be as painful as the pain I suffered in my life. Just end it. End it. End it. The bell rang. I gave up, and headed back to class. For the rest of the lessons, I forced myself to become attentive. Distract myself from what happened earlier on. Still I found myself thinking.Thinking of what will happen if I jumped down.

As I walked home, it starts again. The stares. They were always the same. But this time, I felt a blanket covering me. Like an alien in a frosted glass room. After the incident. Everything changed. I do not know why. As I stepped into my house, my father came over and said, "Son, we have found a method to cure Moins Syndrome. All we need is your consent. Sign here if you want it. Think carefully. I know you have been waiting for this day," I looked at the form. Forty percent success rate. Requires surgery. A hundred thousand dollars. I held my pen and hovered my hand over the the signature blank. I can be like everyone else. Follow the trends. Or I can be different. Wait for this trend to subside. Be 'normal' a decade later.

I tore up the form. Different. That is what I am.

Author's Notes:

You might think that this story is bias to either side, particularly due to the fact that I am overweight. However, read beyond the surface.
I adopted a 'short-sentence' writing style to inject more emotion into the story. So if you copy and paste this story on Microsoft Word, you will see a lot of grammatical errors. So if you complain about the short setences, I will ignore them.

A Hole In The Wall

2007-10-26T17:00:00.000+08:00

Chapter 1: Anticipation

Zack stood in front of his house, waiting for his friend to arrive. They had planned to go ‘zombie hunting’, a term first used by Matt Newman in the twenty-ninth century to describe destroying the zombies using the virus strain he discovered. The virus, Z-0113 would enter the zombie’s body through inhalation, slowly replicating itself and disintegrating the zombie after 3-5 days. It is often found inside weapons used to kill zombies, though the main use of such weapons is for civilians to fire at zombies in the name of fun.

A shiny black car stopped in front of him. Zack looked at the driver and was certain it was Pete. He had a Mohawk, a pair of sunglasses covering his hair. He was wearing one of those black leather jackets and a cut off jeans. Pete was always a fan of punk rock and even when it died, he was still listening to it; but punk rock is now having a comeback. Zack sat in the car, trying to hold his breath from the smell of the strong leather smell.

“So, you ready to go kick some zombie ass?”Pete asked.

“Oh yeah,” Zack had been anticipating this moment. His father disappeared when he was 7. His mother told him it was the zombies that killed his father. Sure, his stepfather treated him well, but he and his father shared a special bond, and when he heard the news about his father’s death, he could not get over it until he was 15. Finally, he turned 17 this year, the legal age to kill zombies. Zack rubbed both off his hands together, anticipating.

“All right, this is the place,” The car came to a halt.

“This?”

“Yep, it’s the Zombie Cage. Doesn’t look much of a cage to me though,” Pete smiled at his joke, but Zack did not laugh. He was too impressed with the colossal walls. They were about the height of a 30-storey building; with a layer of something blue surrounding it. Just like what his Zombigraphy teacher had said. The Zombie Cage was like a beautiful piece of art, except what is inside is something horrible.

The duo used the elevator and went to a platform above the wall. A Zombie Research Facility (ZRF) member greeted them and demanded their ID card. Citizens in the country need not have to pay, but tourists had to pay $30 for entry. It is a lucrative business, as it is a tourist attraction and thus earning an average of $900 million annually. The ZRS member instructed them to pick their weapon of choice. Zack took up a rocket launcher while Zack got a sniper rifle. “You may start shooting now, don’t worry, there is a force field that does not allow organic objects to pass through, so you won’t fall. By the way, the weapons only contain shell that are filled with the virus, you would not be hurt by it.”

Zack looked into the scope and found a cluster of zombies. He fired the missile, it hit the ground, before releasing what seemed like a blue haze. The ZRF had put a large amount of the virus in the shells, causing the zombies to quickly disintegrate. Zack felt a sense of euphoria as he and Pete kept on firing.

Euphoria…

To be continued

Double-edged Vengeance

2007-05-16T22:11:00.000+08:00

NOTE:All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Also, I did not create this story for political reasons. I just wanted to write about vengeance and war

“Dystisia has invaded Penuriosus due to...”I shook my head, “the production of the Annihilator jets. Dystisia has identified Penuriosus incapable of carrying these jets armed with highly destructive laser-bombs. The Defence Minister of Dystisia said that with the Annihilator jets, Penuriosus could be a hazard to other countries,”I laughed at the news report . What a great excuse to attack us and get more territory. I sipped my wine, the aroma of it leaving me on Cloud Nine. Suddenly, someone busted into the bar and shouted,”Sarocak is under attack!”

Sarocak was my hometown. My wife and son were at home. My instincts told me to rush back to the Sarocak, but I was too late. The village was burned down. As I walked through remnants of the village, I examined the charred corpses’ faces on the ground and through the ashes, I sense fear, shock, pain and vengeance. The town was creepy. What used to be a bustling town was now dead, just a ghost town, just a lonely town, just nothing. Finally, I came to my house. I braced myself, for I knew what would happen next. It was just too obvious, but there was a chance, a hope that they would be still alive, and hope was just what I needed.
I opened the door, and saw my wife and son dead. Just laying there, with no sign of life at all. My wife was killed by a bullet to her head while my son...my son...was stabbed. I looked at his corpse and discovered 50 stab wounds. I imagine how the soldiers killed my son. As they stabbed him, his screams, his blood, his cries for help just made them laugh and feel good about themselves. They could not even spare a young boy. And all these for what? I could never answer that question, because there were too many answers.

Turning my head around, I saw a plate of warm pasta on the dining table. I started to weep. They were waiting for me to come home for lunch when they were killed, yet I was still sipping my wine at the bar. I was a failure to my wife and son. Every day, I would return home late because of my alcohol. But what has passed has passed. I had to move on, my family would not want to see me in this state.

As I walked out of my house, brooding about the war, I was detected by a Dystisian soldier. “Hey, you freaking Penurioser!”He taunted and grabbed out his rifle.

“You killed my family, right? Did you?”I shouted back, pulling out my .753 Magnum revolver.

“Yes, I did, and I enjoyed how your family squealed in pain and how...”I fired at him before he finished his sentence. The bullet hit his chest and blood splattered all over me. I laughed sadistically as he moaned on the floor, struggling to stay alive, but he could not and soon had stop breathing. Then, I started to be confused. His wife and his son were waiting back at his country, waiting for him to go home for lunch. Now, he will never go back. I destroyed his loved ones’ lives with just a pull of a trigger. And all these for what? Vengeance? Patriotism? There were too many answers for me to answer this questions. I started to regret. What right did I have to kill him for revenge? I dropped my revolver and tried to find an answer to all the questions in my head, but found none suitable enough for me to accept. Was I right or was I wrong.?

Then I just ran, ran where my feet took me to, through the barren lands.

Was I right or wrong? Was this worthy enough for revenge? Would he have killed me before I killed him? Was I wrong, or was I right...

647 words

Rumourtism-Introduction

2007-03-10T19:45:00.000+08:00

Disclaimer:All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, events and lies made by any stars or paparazzis, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Introduction

Creating rumours, lying for money, betraying famous people and being a busybody is just all in a paparazzi's day's work. And a paparazzi I am. But I have always wanted to change for the good. I would like to make a famous star look good, but they are not. Here's an example of a famous dude called Fama.

Me:Hello Fama, can you tell me about your save the earth campaign?
Fama: Surez. Let me grab a smoke first, k?
Me: Erm...Is that even...saving the earth?
Fama: Of course it is!
Me: So tell me, how many packets do you smoke everyday?
Fama: 20 packets.
Me:20 packets?!?! Do you even know how many trees are killed when you smoke 20 packets? You are not even saving the environment!
Fama: Whats wrong? I pay money to plant the trees so that I can cut them down to smoke me cigarettes.
Me: What other 'environmental' things you do?
Fama: I ride a diesel car and I always go to 395km/h, burn forests for no reason, build a nuclear factory near a freshwater river and the factory disposes of the chemicals into the river to give those drinking the river their daily dose of uranium.
Me:...I...I...think this interview should stop this instance...
Fama: Good, now I have to publicise my 'environmental' campaign to get more muney. Heck yah!

Disgusted? Heck yah! Environmental indeed. Well, he got his retribution. I wrote a wonderfully insulting article about him and he was so angry about the article that he tried to drink 20 buckets from the river of uranium to prove that it was good for the people. Now he is waiting for a kidney transplant.

That's all for now, next time, there will be more articles.

Gateway to Rumourtism

Voices In My Head-Act 1

2007-03-09T22:19:00.000+08:00

I hate them. Despise them as if they were my tormentors. And they are. But I cannot get rid of them. They manipulate me, each giving different decisions, leaving me in a crossroads. They are just voices in my head.

Act 1: Introduction

"Well, your condition has improved tremendously. I guess I can allow you to be discharged from the open units," the psychologist told me.

"Yes, finally I can be normal again,"I cheered, only to have the psychologist remind me that I still had schizophrenia.

I packed my things and walked towards the exit. Beyond that point. Beyond that point, I would be free, be cured and be...normal. I could not resist the temptations of what will happened after I leave this place. I just sprinted towards the exit, as I also sprinted through memory lane...

It was December 14th 1997, my parents were getting a divorce. I was rebelling because of their actions. I failed all my exams and was defiant to my parents. On that day, she decided to chase me out of the house. I shouted for my father's help, but he never cared. When I begged for my mother's forgiveness and was given a cold and heartless stare instead. Then, I broke down. I stood there like a statue, devoid of emotions
Suddenly, I heard a rasp voice telling me,"They don't even love you. Why stay here? Let's just escape from everything. Get a fresh start." Without hesitation, I followed his commands. I ran out of the house and seek refuge in my friend's house. It turned out that the voice was Sate. Though it felt weird talking to myself, I at least had someone who was similar to me. Not long after, another voice entered my head, called itself Haven. Weird thing is that Sate always gave suggestions that will help me in life at other people's expense, while Haven opposes him and wants me to do things that are with my conscience. It is human nature to follow Sate's way of doing things. But, as I told my friend about these voices, he replied by saying that I was crazy and should see a shrink.

Then, it finally dawned on me that I was insane. Hearing things, talking to myself-all symptoms of craziness. I refused to go to a pyschiatrist because it meant that I had to stay in a mental hospital and looked down as an 'outcast'. It was only until Sate instructed me to do something sinister did I realise I was a danger to mankind. Thus I made an appointment with a psychiatrist. He referred me to a more experienced pyschologist who in turn told me that I had Schizophrenia.

"Hey! You wanna get yourself killed?"The motorist swore at me. I woke up from all the recalling and found myself on the middle of the road...

To be continued...

Sue

2007-02-11T15:30:00.001+08:00

'Sup ppl as u know this is not a formal story. It is for fun so dont expect fluent english and act cool,bombastico blah blah words

_________________________________________________________________

Chapter 1

Hello, my name Lem. I am famous for being the only lawyer in Sans United in 2011. I'm not sure why so many lawyers have resigned from such a 'good' occupation, but its been said that people are sueing each other for stupid reasons. For me, that's good money.

Chapter 2

It was an average day at the court.

"I hate his car. It's so old-fashioned and uncool."

"What do you want me to do? Buy a new car? Give me money to buy one then!"The defendant snapped

"I want you to give me your car as compensation!"

"Erm, Mr. Hill, that is not a reasonable request," I told my client.

"Why did you think I hired you? To fulfil my unreasonable requests of course!"

"Silence!Mr. Hill, your case is so...so...idiotic...I mean...unreasonable,"said the judge.

"Stupid lawyer, I am not going to pay you money for your useless service!"

"Hey, I could have used this time to fight for another case! And I'm wasting my time here if you do not pay the fees."

Mr. Hill looked at me with his fiery eyes and gave me a right hook on my head. I fell down and hit my head against the ground. Such a concussion I could not tolerate and thus I fainted.

Chapter 3

I woke up in the hospital bed. Damn, the fees would be high, fortunately I am so rich that it is as if I am throwing peanuts to the hospital. I grabbed the newspaper.

'Lem the lawyer is the worst' My jaws dropped when I saw the headline. My reputation was ruined! I was agitated.Grrr!

I had no money to earn at this rate. I had to do something quickly before I spend all my money on stupid stuff like a $9999999 dinner with no one but myself. Ahh! I thought of a dotz plan which is so stupid but will work=D. I shall change my name to Lema(Lame hehe). With my new name I can fool all those fools and earn money. But with a vengeance. I shall help the defendant by talking bad 'bout my clients. Guess what, they still have to pay dollas and cents.

Chapter 4

As time is precious, I shall not beat about the bush because beating about the bush will harm the environment. But I selfish so I shall waste some time...NOT. During the period,I cheated like 15 cases or so. I am a busy man so I will tell 3 cases.

Case 1

My client: He is a poor dude who thinks he is so rich to sue people. I hope he can pay the fees or I will make him bankrupt.

The defendant: Some dude my client picked on the streets.

The case: My client saw the defendant laughing at him and decided to let me earn money by sueing him.

What happened in the case:

The usual pre-court thingy which I won't care. Let's just move along to the court session.

"My client, Mr. Lam is accusing the defendant that he laughed at him," I said.

"My client, denied laughing at your client," The defence lawyer defended.

"Of course, your client is correct. In fact, I have looked at my client's background and found out my client is mentally-ill and has social anxiety. He might be hallucinating."

"Okay this case is so easy to solve that I, the judge, has come to a verdict myself. The plaintiff will pay the the defendant compensation for wasting his time. Wait, pay everyone in this courtroom. Hehe, money for me, YA!!!"the judge said.

Well that was case 1, time to move to case 2

My client: A restaurant owner

The defendant: A diner at the restaurant

The case: My client is sueing the defendant because my client said his restaurant had bugs in the food and the defendant was the only one left in the restaurant. WTF rite?

Blah blah pre-court stuffs again. Lets move on

"Judge Drad, my client, Mr. And has admitted that he has bugs in his restaurant." I said.

"Very well, the verdict is the plaintiff goes to jail for food poisoning and he must pay his lawyer the fees."the judge announced, sick of all the stupid cases.

Case 3

My client: Someone who killed a cat.

The defendant: A witness of the killing

The case: My client is sueing the defendant for witnessing the brutal killing.-.-"'

Pre-court stuffs again.

"Judge Dreld, my client,Mr. Co.op has killed a cat. It should amount to animal abuse," I said.

"Judge Dreld, my client seeks compensation for doing a good thing and still tio sued,"The defence lawyer said.

"Judge Dreld, I want compensation from my client because he wasting my time. Time is muney," I replied

"Alrighto, da tables are teh turned, so we shall have another court session about the plaintiff's crime, animal abuse."The judge verdicted.

Final Chapter

Well, after 3 months of earning money, I finally noticed that the crime rate was going higher and higher. I ignored it and continued.

Finally, retribution striked. I was shot while walking through the streets. Well, at least I am RICHE$$

_________________________________________________________________

Diary of a Deadman:ALL

2007-02-08T19:40:00.002+08:00

Due to the fact that the FICTITIOUS 'diary entries' are not in order, I will be like a kaisu dude and post all the links here in order

Diary of a Deadman 1
Diary of a Deadman 2
Diary of a Deadman 3
Diary of a Deadman 4
Diary of a Deadman 5

WARNING: IF U FEEL SAD AND WANNA CRY AND WHATEVER, READING THESE ENTRIES WILL MAKE YOU EVEN MORE MELANCHOLIC AND U MIGHT DO SOME 'reduce' stress craps which r lies lies liers liers burning burning burning in ice, liquid nitrogen

Diary of a Deadman 5(Final)

2007-02-08T15:09:00.000+08:00

NOTE: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. My parents and I are alive and my brothers ROCK!!! AND I HAVE FRIENDS!AND I NEVER FLUNK MY EXAMS!OR DID I?ESPECIALLY maths !!! PERHAPS, PERHAPS, PERHAPS.PLS DONT CUT URSELF OR U DIE AND IT DOESNT REDUCE UR STRESS I AM JUST LYING

24 February 2009

Dear diary,

This is my final entry of my diary. I wrote this diary to keep track of the happy memories I was going to have. But I don't have any. Instead this is now a ranting ground.

Well, this week has felt like an eternity for me. So many things have happened and my life has been turned upside down. But, today is the last day of my life. My 'old' life. Due to the fact that neither my relatives nor my siblings want to take care of me, I am going to an orphanage. I heard that the orphanage ill-treats children. Oh ya, my hands has an infection and I have to get it amputated...

Now I'm pondering, will this be my last day of my life, should I start a new one? Or end it all.

Death,
Ken

Here are the other Diary of a Deadman entries:

Diary of a Deadman 1

Diary of a Deadman 2

Diary of a Deadman 3

Diary of a Deadman 4

Diary of a Deadman 4

2007-02-07T17:50:00.000+08:00

NOTE: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. My parents and I are alive and my brothers ROCK!!! AND I HAVE FRIENDS. AND I DONT FLUNK MY EXAMS. OH WAIT, MAYBE maths, IS IT?PERHAPS=D! pls dont cut urself as u will lose ur blood and die. donate ur blood to the blood bank, if not go and chill

23 February 2009

Dear diary,

I flunked my exams, like I care. I did not study as usual. No point to study at all, because my parents would not be able to see it…I had rather put my attention on other things, like crying my heart out, finding someone I can confide to and …pleasure.

Oh ya, talking about pleasure, I have found a new method to reduce stress and feel good about myself. Cutting myself. I’m not pulling your leg. It feels so good, as if I was cutting away the part of my life I don’t want to have. As the blood trickles down my skin, it has a burning sensation on my skin. Ah, I feel good.

Sliced,
Ken

Here are the other Diary of a Deadman entries:

Diary of a Deadman 1
Diary of a Deadman 2
Diary of a Deadman 3

Diary of a Deadman 3

2007-02-05T15:13:00.001+08:00

NOTE: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. My parents and I are alive and my brothers ROCK!!! AND I HAVE FRIENDS

AND THIS IS STARTING TO PISS ME OFF>=/

21 February 2009

Dear diary,

Hmph, I finally saw my 'friends' true colours. Especially Alex. We went through thick and thin, only to leave me when I was grief-stricken. What a dog. He was the first person in this school to ask me to be his friend, and I did. Now, he was the first one to leave me after he heard that I would only get 5% of the inheritance.

20 'friends'. 20 'friends' have left me and have gone to befriend Bryan, a rich and spoilt brat. I have become a laughing stock. How pathetic I am. I never noticed that they would stab me in the back

Hated,
Ken

Here are the other Diary of a Deadman entries:

Diary of a Deadman 1

Diary of a Deadman 2

Diary of a Deadman 4

Diary of a Deadman 2

2007-02-04T13:56:00.000+08:00

NOTE: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. My parents and I are alive and my brothers ROCK!!!
I know its lame to write all these everytime but I scared I kena sued.

20 February 2009

Dear diary,

God, my parents are killed in an accident. I feel like crap. It just happened. All of a sudden. My parents are gone. Gone...forever. To think I was still writing about how perfect my life is.

It seems like my parents have not written a will,thus my siblings are having a war, winner gets most of the inheritance. But I don't want the inheritance, I want my parents. Finally, I see that money is more important than kinship. Why can't we just split up the money evenly?

Sighz,
Ken

Here are the other Diary of a Deadman entries:
Diary of a Deadman 1

Diary of a Deadman 3

Diary of a Deadman 4

Diary of a Deadman 1

2007-02-03T18:11:00.000+08:00

NOTE: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. I am not dead or whatsoever.

19 April 2009

Dear diary,

Wow, I got a diary. A real one, not a blog. I don't understand why do people like it. A diary is for you to write about your private life, not to show it to the whole world. A stalker who wants to know more information about the 'stalked' can just go and see his/her blog.

Ah well, arguing to myself is useless. Let me give you an brief biography of my life. I have a wonderful family. Two brother,two sisters and my parents. They love us all and have always treated us fairly. All of my relatives are alive and none have met any health problems.

I top the class every year, aced all my tests and examinations. Even without studying,(which I have done many times) I can score full marks. My IQ is approximately 150, enough to enter those high-IQ societies, if I want to.

My parents are wealthy enough for us to live in a gargantuan house. Its not a mansion, but something bigger than a mansion, with a 10-hectare garden and a swimming large enough to accomodate hundreds of people.

My social circle is big too. So big that I rank my friends according to how good they are. People who just saying "Hi" to me, I would give them a 'D'. Those boot-lickers who want to get my money, I give them an 'F'. Only my best friend, Alex, gets an 'A'. People whom I can trust, I give them a 'C'. And last of all, people I can express my feelings to are 'B', like you, diary, like you.

As you see, I have a perfect life, and I plan to keep it. My mum's calling me for dinner. YUM! Bye, diary.

Kudos,
Ken

There are the other Diary of a Deadman entries:

Diary of a Deadman 2

Diary of a Deadman 3

Diary of a Deadman 4

A CRAP LETTER

2007-01-31T16:42:00.000+08:00

NOTE!!!:AFTER YOU READ THIS 'LETTER',PLS DO NOT WRITE THIS IN A REAL TEST OR EXAM.DONT BLAME ME

Mr. Geeky Geek(DA PRO GAMER)
At my computer
in 33 G33K Square
G33K 14H24O2421L146677Y18053G33K

Y2K*(RUN 4 YOUR LIFE!!!)

Manager of
????? Electronics Pte. Ltd

Dear ignorant manager

Re:Subject about your sales assistant who is nub

EH, how can u liddat one? u think u who? u think u so good meh? u can do this meh?u think u cool arh?

i was going to ur donut shop to eat a donut then i went to ur happy shop where i was given laughing gas and then i went to ur oblivion shop where i was kept in a room with only a com for 2000 yrs(BTW THE ONLY GAME WAS OBLIVION). after lyk i dunno lah, i finally teleported to your handphone shop(using the teleport skill costing me 20 mana points) for no reason. I entered the shop and took bought a phone to play my daily dose of OBLIVION. HAIZ, UR PHONES DUN SUPPORT games, internet, bluetooth, 3g, SMS, incoming calls and outcoming calls. THUS, I WENT TO THE SALES ASSISTTANTZ

i told him with my very audible and wonder english. He told me to practise my english and said that i was a N00B!!! I AM SURE I CAN BEAT HIM IN WoW WITH MY LVL 70 BLOOD ELF PALADDIN,WITH my first tier weapons including vendor trash, my fist and my wonderful flintlock gun with scope, laser sight, silencer and 9999mm THICK BULLETS. HE IS DA NOOB. IM SURE I CAN OWN HIM WITH IN CSS,DODS,HLS,HL2S,SSS AND ALL THE GAMES ENDING WITH S(e.g. MapleS n of course Elder S:OBLIVION!!!)

I hope that you r a pro if not a ok pro but not a GUD NUB! IF u actually reply to this, please send me a letter that says that u agree to my 2pid suggestions.HERE THEY R BE, PREPARED;LETS MOVE OUT!:TRAIN UR STUFF BY LETTING THEM PLAY GAMES, MAKE IT 2 hours, no wait 5, no 10, no FOR 2000 YRS. IF THEY DO NOT BECOME G33K LIKE ME THEY R NOOB AND I LL SOMEHOW MAN manipulate them to be a g33k by using amxx or mani admin plugin to amx_g33k them. if they cant be manipulated, i shall at least get them to be ur average lonely blogger who wants to attract attention because i am so depressed for no reason and i write happy crap in my blog =D=D=D.ALSO, i wan back me mana points

IF U CANNOT FINISH THIS, I SHALL PUT U ON THE KOS list of my WOW clan and i ll also challenge you to a 'friendly' clan match with my pro clan made out of me myself(BECAUSE I TOO PRO) and ez bots. I SURE PWN U

BB,

PEACE ,

SEEYA ,

LATER,

sup,

hihi,

WATEVER...

URS PRO-LLY

G33ky G33K

If you dont know anything, go WIKI THEM http://www.wikipedia.org

IF CANT FIND ANY CRAP U CAN TELL ME BY LEAVING A COMMENT OR SHOUTING IN MY SHOUTBOX-_-"

i will tell you what crap is that

eh, the content of this stupid letter adds up to 416 words, when printed out = 2 pages. wow

we only need to write 200 words

A Cult to Wombre

2007-01-24T17:22:00.001+08:00

Chapter 1

Graham Wombre woke up in the middle of the night, his chest was hurting badly.He walked into his balcony,took deep breaths and admired the plants in the garden of his mansion. It was not really the greens that caught the attention but a group of black-hooded people kneeling in the garden that did.

"Sire"

Wombre turned back and saw his servant,Albert.

"Would you like something to eat,master?"Albert asked.

"Sure.Albert,could you ask those...people to get out of my garden?What are they doing there in the first place?"Wombre said

"Sorry,master. I am afraid I cannot be of assistance.They would ignore me, and you."

"Huh?Well,if you cannot help me, I shall do it myself personally"

Chapter 2

Wombre changed to his suit, walked into his garden and went towards the trespassers.

"......Wombre......ad patres......errare humanum est......caelum......" They chanted.

"Why is everyone kneeling here? Are you all a cult?Get out!Now!"Wombre raged.No one noticed him though. They treated him as if he was invisible, as if he was not even there at all. No response, no response at all.

"Okay, I'm going to report this to the police, don't say I didn't warn you. You all better scram while you can,"Wombre stormed out of his mansion and headed straight for the police station.

" 'Sup dude, want a donut? Or ye wanna report some case which we cannot resolve?"The police officer in the police station quizzed.

"The latter, without the 'we cannot resolve',"Wombre replied.

"Heh,you all think we are perfect machines, working from dawn to dusk, solving all the case. Well let me tell you the truth, the one that hurts.90 percent of the cases cannot be resolved, so might as well just grab a donut, new kid 'round da block,"The policeman japed.

"I didn't came in here to argue and thus I will not. I want you to check on this 'cult' that has been trespassing in my garden. I expect a result as soon as possible."

"We can help, provided they are one of us..."

"One of the cops?What the..."

"You didn't wanna argue right? We shall look into this and see if we can help you."

"You'd better."

Chapter 3

Wombre went back to his mansion, feeling sick. The cult was still there, doing what it did best:Chanting those unknown words, words which did not mean any sense, or did they? They had been at it for almost half a day, just kneeling there, chanting.Never stopping, as if they were statues.

"Oh come on, lunatics. Isn't anyone tired of this game? Are you all begging for money and food? 'Cause I got tons of them, just tell me, come on, reply!"Wombre taunted them, though it was useless. They were oblivious to him.

Suddenly, one of them said,"Dues,"Wombre was puzzled by whatever he was saying but at least he replied.Wombre entered his mansion. For the first time in his sixty-three years of his life, he felt a cold feeling to his mansion, there was no one in his mansion except for Albert and himself.

"Here is your breakfast, sire,"Albert placed a plate of bacon and eggs on the dining table.

"I have no appetite. Hmm, Albert, do you know what deus means?"Wombre asked.

"It is Latin for god, master"

God.Why did they say that?Are they some type of cult worshipping a god?Was his mansion used to be some type of burial place for someone famous?Wombre was very intrigued and frustrated at the same time.

All of the sudden, his telephone rang."Hello, this is the police. We have looked into your case. I am very sorry to say that we cannot help you as they are not one of us. Good bye and have a nice day,"the caller said.

"Why you pathetic, useless......"Wombre boomed as he slammed down the phone,"Looks like I have to take this into my own hands."

Chapter 4

Wombre took out his double-barrel shotgun and his revolver. Like a bolt from the blue, his head started spinning. His sight was blurred and he was laughing for no reason. Its was as if his someone was asking him to do all this.

"Must be that cult. I bet they practise black magic and are putting a curse on me. I must exterminate them before they kill me," Wombre thought.

Wombre cocked his guns and walked out of his mansion. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger at one of the members of the cult.

"Ouch!"The member said.

"Ha ha! Feel my wrath! Flee while you can, before I kill you all one by one!"Wombre laughed.

"I bet its my rheumatism acting up,"Wombre's 'victim' told another cult member.

"We can stop if you want to..."

"Never! For him, we must endure this. He wanted us to do this."

Now Wombre was enraged. He aimed and fired at the whole cult. It was as if the bullet in his clip was infinite. He just kept on firing, it was like firing at birds during open season. His head was hurting, his heart was pumping furiously to replace the oxygen amount in his whole body.

Albert ran up to Wombre and disarmed him."Stop it master, stop it. You aren't going by the rules!"

"And who are you to tell me that?"Wombre snapped back.

"Follow me."

Albert took Wombre to a room inside his mansion and told him to read a tablet.

Graham Wombre Aged 63 Date of birth:17/9/1944

He was a good father, but unfortunately he died from a heart attack on 13/9/2007

Wombre could not believe his eyes and looked at Albert."What about you?Aren't you alive?"Wombre questioned

"Look at the tablet beside yours."

Albert Smith Age 74 Date of birth:13/9/1934

A loyal servant, alas he died on 16/9/2006

"I was supposed to guide you, make you get used to being dead, but you just kept on believing you were alive. I couldn't help you. Now, you have hurt the living, and your punishment for that is..."Albert stared at Wombre hands.

Wombre was feeling weird and there was immense pain in his hands. When he looked at his hands, he saw that they were disintegrating. He dropped onto the floor, as his body disappeared into thin air.

If you liked this story or not , please give me comments. It took 4 hours to write this story

Crazy Town

2007-01-21T17:31:00.000+08:00

Ok, this is another crazy story

WARNING:Got some violence hor

"I can hear the Townchief.He's telling me to kill everyone in this lame town."

"I see fresh prey."

"Hmmm.Look at me for what, crazy arh you."

"Burn!!!"

"I think that was only one. The townchief told me to kill all of them."

"Woohoo!!!I killed them all! Townchief will gurantee to be proud one."

"Wah lao!"

"Townchief, I did what you told me to do."

"This my town , and you destroyed it. Who do you think you are?Hasta la vista, baby."

Here lies the crazy dude

Screenshots made by Garry's Mod http://www.garrysmod.com

Iron Man,Chapter 1

2007-01-20T11:06:00.000+08:00

"Has he gone insane......"

Why could the Black Iron Men be allowed to know about their past?Why would their master be so kind?DS-1537,A.K.A Hetad was an iron man.Not something to be proud with, being an iron man was tough,especially your master treats you badly,real badly.Imagine, during the last few seconds of your life, your brain is extracted from your body, put inside a metal body and after that, someone buys you and you become a slave . Yes, you have immortality, but immortality is worthless when you do not have freedom.

Hetad had a crap master who ill-treated him .There are so many iron man who got great masters, but Hetad got a devil instead.Thus, he ran away from his master and sought refuge in the Iron Man Refuge(IMR). Not an ideal place to live in, but it had batteries, and Hetad could just slack in one corner. Alas, good things must always come to an end . The peace treaty between IMR and the the Iron Men Owner Welfare Assocition(IMOWA) was about to be over in a few days time. IMOWA was waiting outside, getting ready to capture them all.

test

2007-01-18T19:35:00.000+08:00

ZZZ

2007-01-15T17:45:00.000+08:00

HIHI no one knows who i am but wateva

Lets start with a crap story:

Chapter 1, The Agony

"To think that you trio couldnt even defuse the bomb! That bomb has been here since...erm...1965.You only need to cut the only wire to defuse the bomb!ZOMG, you ignorant foolz, N00b was standing so near the bomb, why can you two pull him out? Now we have to wait for him to respawn. Ye know how much needed to get him to respawn?Do you?HUH?"Sergeant Corn said,pleased that he could scold privates again.

"Man, I hate that dude, dude.Oh, and he has wonderful grammar too,"Nird said with a grimace.

"Oh the irony, oh the angony, oh the sophisication, oh the LOLZAOMOGASDSNIPAPGING@WOTLOLOLOLOL......"

"Shut up Ar, you and boss' blabbering is killing me. Come to think of it why did you come to FTIOM,FEA,T,D,E,EO4PI(W$$)?"

"It's beautiful do you know that? The explosions, the destruction, the angony, the irony, the computer graphics=D"

"Whatever dude, just go get N00b here, he had better explain this, clearly."

When Ar went off, Nird sat on a chair, brooding about why drink kopi-o at a kopitiam was wrong when the baddies where kicking their arse. Just brooding, just , just, just brooding comeon!Brooding,just brooding,just just just brooding Woohoo . Brood here and brood there and brood like a brooder YEA just brooding just brooding just just just....Ahem...