A block of cheese.

Hello again, readers. You know, it's kinda funny that I greet all of you in every post when none of you actually respond to me. Oh well. So, originally I planned to write a long post on what I did in the capital when I went down about two weeks ago. But then again, I figured that you guys don't really want to know about that. So I abandoned my blog for a little while before deciding to come back today to give all of you post #31. Yes, it is the 31st post. Even I'm shocked. This is the first time anything I've ever done has gotten so far. Oh well. Anyways, here it is. I figured some of you might enjoy if I made a (triumphant?) return to the Turtle Theory series. Or maybe not. I think it would be best if we abandoned the series. I suppose it will now forever reside in the pile of stuff I could never follow through with, which happens to be a huge pile. Anyways, shall we begin?

If wishes were horses, I'd need a stable. If wishes were horsepower, on the other hand, I'd have a Ferrari. All these wishes and wants, floating around in my head. Will I ever fulfill these wishes? Why am I even bothering you people about my wishes? Who cares? Life is better enjoyed not knowing and not caring, just like a seal. Aren't seals just the most uncaring creatures alive? They can see a family member get eaten and return to the scene of the murder the next day like nothing happened. Wait, does that make policemen seals? I doubt it. 

Oh, you caught me rambling there. Honestly, I don't feel in the mood to entertain you people, but the show must go on. What shall I write here today? Maybe I won't write anything. Maybe I'll just keep tapping away at the keyboard aimlessly, leading you people on. Or maybe I could write something fantastic. Something amazing. Something that will knock your socks off. But then again, why should I? Why do I even blog in the first place? Now that I think of it, it just seems arrogant and stuck-up of me. Look at me, I write stuff! Is that even a good thing? I lead you readers here and you read things that I have written. In fact, most everything I've ever written was rubbish. 

Maybe I should just quit while I'm not too far behind. Is there even a point? Do people even read these posts? Or am I just throwing out these words as pretty little flowers on the wall, as a background to your life? Why do I even bother? Do I care? Not really. Do you care? I doubt it. So, where's the actual blog post mentioned earlier? Not here, apparently. Maybe all you're reading is a tug of war between me and my subconscious self. Maybe. Or maybe it's just doom, gloom, and writer's block of cheese. I mean writer's block. I'm hungry. Goodbye.

Monkey Excrement, Monkey Excrement

So, yeah. I finally decide to venture into the realm of COMPETITIVE WRITING. About a month ago, I took part in a writing competition. I'm not sure anyone was even aware of this. And yeah, I might have won. Well , I am invited to a Tea Ceremony with 19 others on the shortlist.  I held off posting this because... um... I'm bad like that? Well, now here it is. The story. Hope you enjoy it, guys. And fingers crossed that I win when I go down to KL on Tuesday!

Details on the competition here: http://thestar.com.my/dublin/


The Sunday morning dawned drab and grey, rather anticlimactic, really. Moody grey clouds chased each other across an equally grey sky. Leaning against a red brick wall, Adam took a deep breath. The air smelled of pollutants and the smells of a city waking up for the day. In the sky, the sun struggled to get its orange rays to penetrate the wall of cloud. Adam considered lighting up a cigarette to lighten his mood but decided against it for once. All was still. All was calm. All was boring. No one was about yet. He rested his head against the wall and brooded. For once, he thought, I’d like to have something interesting happen to me. Something that will get me noticed. Something exciting and awesome. 

Adam’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of car tyres squealing from down the road. A blue station wagon was careering towards him. Adam casually but purposefully took a step to the side, all the time keeping his eyes on the car. The car swerved and jinked down the road, finally pulling up to a stop right next to a convenience store. A heavily bearded man got out slowly and ducked into the store. Adam watched with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. Once more, all was quiet. Suddenly, three loud reports shattered the silence and a glass window. Adam felt his heart rate rise, was this going to be it? Was this the exciting event that would change his life forever? He heard another loud report, this time mixed with the sound of a cry of pain.


Five minutes earlier,


Crowley was a cashier in a convenience store. The job did not pay much, but then again it was not a very taxing job. Right now, Crowley was reading a magazine from the rack right next to him. His horn-rimmed glasses were on the tip of his nose and his brow was wrinkled in concentration. Sub-consciously, he raised a hand to sweep a lock of curly ginger hair away from his eyes while imagining himself sitting in a luxury sports car burning rubber down a highway with the top down. He paid no attention to the burly man who staggered into the shop. Although it was a little early for the hung over people to come in for their daily fix, strange people had strange habits. He bopped his head to non-existent music, hoping the man wouldn’t disturb him. 

All of a sudden, the magazine was ripped away and Crowley found himself staring into the barrel of a pistol. He swallowed nervously and blinked slowly. The man shouted, “Give me all the money!” and fired three shots in random directions just to get his point across. The sound of the shots still ringing in his ears, Crowley stumbled over to the cash register, pulled out the cash drawer, and dumped the contents on the table in front of the man, who promptly started scooping it into a small sack. Sensing his chance, Crowley reached over and tried to smash the man’s face into the counter but he was too slow, his reflexes dulled by too many hours of mindless work. The man took two smart steps back and pulled his trigger in surprise as Crowley grabbed the nearest item available, a stand of lollipops, and hurled it at him. The bullet slammed into Crowley’s chest, sending him slumping to the floor while he moaned in pain. As all grew dark, his last thought was, How will I clean up this mess now?


A minute later,


Jack was feeling the blood pump through his veins strongly. For the first time in a long time, he felt alive. His fingers tingled with the memory of the gun that was clenched tightly in them a minute ago. His nose was dripping blood, broken from the impact with the plastic stand that the cashier had thrown at him. His sack jingled with empty beer bottles and the rich sound of coins. The gun was not with him anymore, it was currently residing at the bottom of a trash can, covered by anything and everything that he could grab from the front counter of the store. As he slid into the front seat of the stolen car, Jack felt a sudden surge of exhilaration. It actually worked, he thought to himself. Why didn’t I think of doing this earlier? As he sat in the car, he was suddenly aware of a green sedan turning down the road, coming towards him. Panic took hold of him and refused to let go. He realized that if they saw him, the people in the sedan would put two and two together. 


Slamming the door shut, he tried to stick the keys in the ignition but in his current inebriated state, it was all he could do to keep the keys from slipping to the floor. Meanwhile, the green sedan was coming ever closer. As it drew level with his car, Jack instinctively crouched to obscure his face. Thankfully, the sedan passed by without missing a beat, barely slowing down as it passed the station wagon. Jack breathed a sigh of relief. He stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. As the car coughed into life, he noticed a man standing against a wall on the opposite side of the road. The man’s face was ashen, his eyes telling. There was no doubt that he had seen everything. The panic, which had been dissipating just a few moments ago, flooded back into Jack as the colour drained from his face. Shifting the car from park to drive, he floored the accelerator just as the man started to cross the street. The only thought coursing through his mind was, Please let me get out of here in one piece!

Adam watched the station wagon bearing down on him as he crossed the street with mild interest. With the station wagon mere feet away from him and the driver seemingly unable to stop, Adam‘s mind flashed back to what he had just seen, his brain replaying the entire scene for him, albeit oddly enough in the third person. As the car slammed into him like a stampeding rhinoceros, Adam felt, rather than heard the bones in his right leg shattering under the impact as he adopted a pose less suited towards a man who is going to make a police report but more suited towards a man who will shortly become a chalk line drawing. As the rest of his body was dragged underneath the car to end his life, he thought to himself, Well, this was exciting!

Wow.

Second post in three days. Woohoo! (Waits for applause) This is amazing!

Levity over, let's get down to the big cheese. So, I just returned home from an extremely profitable trip to the mall. Not going to say which, that's just free advertising. If you want any advertising space, you guys will just have to pay me. Anyways, I had a disappointing lunch at a certain Hong Kong - themed restaurant. Again, not going to say the name. But more on that later. (Actually, no.) The purpose of this post is also to enlighten the masses of this shop, this one shop that is completely EPIC. No shop has ever filled me with such wonder and amazement. Oh yes, this will also be the first post EVER with PICTURES. Yep, you got that right. PICTURES. Without further ado, I present to you:

Ignore the women in the picture, they were just in the way.

So, Daiso. A Japanese - themed convenience store. It literally has everything under the sun for the flat price of RM 5 EACH for EVERYTHING. Every product sold costs RM 5 (€1.26 for Europeans, £1.05 for Brits, and US$1.64 for Americans)

Hard to believe, but THIS 3g Tea Measure...

...and THIS bouquet of flowers...

COST THE SAME PRICE.

Shocking eh? After wondering about the store for about 10 minutes, I started noticing some oddities . For example, on a bunch of sponges, I noticed that there was a recurring theme in their mascots.

If you look carefully, one of the little cubes
is sleeping while another is EATING. And, they all look
pretty angry about something. Probably tax rates.

This guy is a king. And a happy one at that. Yet, he comes from a
totally different brand from the one above. Competition much?

As I moved on through the store, a number of other things caught my eye.

This cream, apparently, turns you into a
pleasantly surprised robber.

What if I wanted to drink RED wine? For those of you
who can't see, it says "White Wine Glass"

See any difference in the two? Neither do I.

Somehow, this is a cake.
And a home made one at that.

Stainless steel soap. Nothing more needs to be said.

Note that the eye is only on the packaging,
meaning that when you remove the sponge it
becomes a sea urchin instead of a hedgehog.
Wait, how is it even a hedgehog in the first place?

THIS IS A HEDGEHOG.

Kitchen timer chicken? Or kitchen timer lemon?

Last picture. The sign says it all.

Daiso. Store of many wonders. Yep, shameless plug for them here. But only because they have some pretty cool stuff. Now if only they sold food...

Of Switch-ups and Other Trivialities.

So, once again we return. I apologize for the rather lengthy hiatus, for I have been busy. Oh well. All is not lost. Shall we begin? I think we should.

So, what shall I be writing about today? Should it be a classic port-a-john post? I don’t remember having done one of those in a long time. Shall it be a dark story with a humorous ending? I don’t think so. Let’s just write and see where this goes.

Think back, to when you guys were kids. To a carefree time, a time of pleasures and joy.  In a lush meadow, full of lush greenery and beautiful flowers. The sound of small children playing, it pleases the ears, as long as you don’t know what they’re saying. Have that image in your mind? Hang on to it for a quick second. Now, it’s time for the switch-up. A thousand cows fall from the sky, bellowing out cries of alarm at being tossed out of God’s hands like a fat kid dropping ice-cream on the sidewalk. The first cows splat on the ground with a horrible sound and an even more horrible smell. In their fear, the rest of the cows release enough methane gas to block out sunlight for a moment. Children running everywhere, tripping over themselves and disembowelled cow bellies.  Confused cows falling from the skies. Crippled cows stampeding everything in their path. The meadow smells of blood and gore. Within seconds, the meadow runs red blood with blood. A hundred children moan in pain, drowned out only by the sound of five hundred cows dying.

Let us move away from that horrible scene in your mind right now.  You sick person, I bet your mind automatically added in horrible visual and sound effects. So sick.  Whatever. Let’s move on. Imagine yourself lying on a pristine beach. The sand is pearly white, soft to the touch. The sea laps invitingly ten feet from your spot. It is azure and sparkling,  nary a high roller in sight for miles. The sun is bright and yellow, yet not unbearably hot. You take in a deep breath. This is the life. Once again, the switch up. A huge hole appears in the ground next to you. A million, no a billion small crabs crawl out of the hole at the nearest rock looking object. You. A thousand spiny legs crawl over you, a thousand pincers nibble into your soft flesh, drawing blood. Your skin is slowly peeled off, exposing the raw flesh underneath. That’s not it. A thousand fishes rise up from the sea, arcing in graceful trajectories to land on your body. Salt water enters every crevice of your body, stinging you painfully everywhere there is exposed flesh. You struggle to get up, but nothing works. The fish start puking into your mouth, your nostrils, your navel. Horrible yellow liquid comes out of the fishes every orifice, smelling offensive. It is thick and tarry. You try to scream but no sound comes out as your mouth is already full of the yellow liquid.

Still haven’t pressed that ‘X’ yet? Very well. I can see that you are a resilient character. Let us move on. You are lying in your bed. It is raining outside. Thunder and lightning are out and about. You are safe and warm in your bed, under the covers. Your laptop or mobile device rests on your lap. Headphones obscure your hearing. What are you listening to? Well, anything you want to. Pick a favourite song or tune. Put it on. Then continue reading. All good? Okay. You’re feeling at peace with the world. The world feels at peace with you. You read on, waiting for the punch line. So far, so good. Where’s the switch up ? Maybe I’m doing all this to put you on your guard against falling cows and puking fish. Maybe I’m just messing with your mind. Or maybe there is something but I’m just not showing you. Ok then. Time for the obligatory switch-up. You’ve all been waiting for this. Here we go.

The Problem

I'm not in the mood for formalities of greetings so please forgive me for jumping straight to the point.

Courtesy is dead, or so they say. So are good manners. And don't let me get started on chivalry and politeness. Yet, people have forgotten one important component of our human values. The art of listening. In the age of the iPhone and other such gadgets, people are becoming less and less in tune with things happening right in front of their faces. The little strip of white wire running down your shirt that symbolized your coolness in having a portable music player, a bubble, of sorts, in which you lived in your own head. That man pounding the asphalt? He has one too. That spaced-out woman in the supermarket bobbing her head to an unseen tune? She has one too. Portable music might provide a fun source of unseen and personal entertainment to some, but to others it is only a source of agony. 


What does this have to do with listening, do you say? Well, everything. This age should be called the age of distractions. Its impossible for one to have even a glimmer of hope in having an actual conversation once the phones and tablets and laptops show up at the table. People lock themselves out of the loop, occasionally nodding their head to some unheard point. And that leaves us few who enjoy actual conversation, as they say, on the beach. We patter along smoothly in our statements until we hit a dead end, a virtual wall of silence in which speaking is an invitation for one to be ignored. 


People might argue that they DO in fact hear what you are saying, but there is a whole lot of difference between hearing and listening. In fact, the death of listening has gone so far as to the fact that just when you needed a listening ear, someone to pour out your hopes and worries, you can't find anyone. Sure, they'll listen to you, but will they actually absorb what's being said? In this, the age of the internet, the age of trolls and memes, pouring your deepest worries out to someone will most likely get you a "Why are you telling me this?" Accompanied by a raised eyebrow. No one wants to hear that as a response. 


Sometimes, its just better to shut up and listen, not just with your ears, but with your heart and your mind. Store everything you've heard in your mind, and file it away for another day. Do not offer false "help" or "joy" by telling them its going to be alright, but rather keep quiet and give them your undivided attention. Remove those ear buds from your ears for a moment, pull your eyes away from the screen of your phone, leave your hands free and loose at your sides, and just listen. Who knows? You might just brighten up someone's day instead of just your own. Just listen.

Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Bloody.

The calendar year of 2011 draws to a close in a few days. I would like to present to all of you readers the last piece of the year. I felt it fitting that it should be a story, not just any mere rambling. Enjoy, and I'll see all of you again next year.

The library was always quiet at this time of night. Fluorescent tubes provided the only source of light, the sound of cockroaches scurrying along the walls the only sound to be heard. He turned yet another page of the book, immersed completely in his pursuit of knowledge. As he turned to yet another page, he realized an odd flickering of the fluorescent tube directly above him. He glanced up crossly just as all the tubes in the library failed and he was left alone in the darkness. He took a deep breath in, refusing to give in to the urge to slam on the table with his fist. Slowly, he got up and walked to the door, careful not to walk into any obstacles unlighted by the moon, shining bright through the large windows. 


Once outside, he decided on a whim to take the short walk to the top of a nearby hill. It was a long walk, but finally he reached the summit. Sitting in the middle of a patch of lonely wild flowers, he looked up at the bright full moon and took in a deep breath. All of a sudden, a rustling sound from a stand of trees nearby made him startle and turn. He strained his eyes and squinted, but all he could see was nothing. Wait! There it was again! Just standing in the shadow of the tree. Barely able to make out its silhouette against the pale moonlight, he narrowed his eyes and focused hard on the apparition. It seemed to be making beckoning gestures towards him. He knew that no good was going to come out of this, but it was as if he was under a spell. Upon their own accord, he got up and staggered towards the figure. On closer inspection, it turned out that the figure was a girl. And boy, was she beautiful. He felt his heart speed up at the sight of her. Yet, there was something wrong with her. She looked familiar enough, but he just could not place it.


She smiled sweetly at him and bared her teeth. Teeth, that he noticed, ended in points. It was as though he was being drugged. He could not think clearly, nor could he see clearly. His vision was blurring, the image of the girl in his mind was swimming. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his mind.She was moving closer to him, letting him see her fully, and then he remembered. He knew her face now. He remembered the beach, at sunset. The fateful last conversation. The last meal. He closed his eyes and prayed that it would be over soon enough. As he sank to his knees, the last thing he heard was the sentence, "Never forgive, never forget."

She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and cleaned her blood-stained fingertips with a piece of tissue paper. She looked down at her handiwork, pleased with herself. She was sure that she had left an indelible enough mark, a mark that would remind people to never mess with the fairer sex. The mark was a mockery, a mere image of the turmoil in her. Yet, she felt extremely satisfied with her night's work and felt hope grow in her chest as her broken heart mended with the coming of the sun rising high into the sky. 


That very day, a startling discovery was made. A man was found spread-eagled on the top of a hill, face towards the sun, a smile on his face. All was well, except for the fact that his chest was cracked open like a walnut and his heart was cut into two by what seemed to be a very serrated blade. As one police officer remarked, his heart was well and truly broken.


THE END


*This story is dedicated to a friend of mine. This one's for you, buddy. 

Turtle Theory (Part 4)

Welcome back to Tales From Behind The Port-A-John. Today we shall be continuing with our Turtle Theory in this, part 4 of the multi-part segment. In the previous three segments, readers were introduced to the concepts of the Tadpole, Fish, and Fisherman. These segments can be read here.
Part 1
http://poopoutyourideas.blogspot.com/2011/07/turtle-theory-part-1.html
Part 2
http://poopoutyourideas.blogspot.com/2011/09/turtle-theory-part-2.html
Part 3
http://poopoutyourideas.blogspot.com/2011/11/turtle-theory-part-3.html
Well, enough of the shameless self-advertising. Let's get down to the nitty-gritty. Let us go on and enlighten ourselves about the most mystical and misunderstood creatures of the ocean blue. The turtle, also known by its scientific name as Testudines. But then again, that is not important. Let us begin.


The Turtle


The turtle is an ancient creature, much like the fisherman and the fish. They are mainly characterized by their unwillingness to either be caught by fishermen or catch fish. Thus, they are secretive and secluded creatures, often living alone or in groups of two or three. These turtles swim the oceans endlessly, only stopping for sustenance and rest. They observe without being observed, note without being noted, and you get the idea. Often, they are misunderstood and prejudiced against by fishermen, most of the time being labelled mistakenly as fishermen who are unable to catch fish of their own. As such, they normally do not get on very well with fishermen. Conversely and strangely, they often find that they can get on very well with fishes. Maybe its because fishes feel safe and that there is no danger in mixing with turtles. So the turtle roams endlessly, building opinions and gathering information on the ocean floor. The turtle is known to be a blind creature, unable to see what is happening around it. Yet, contrary to popular belief, the turtle is not deaf. It is able to hear remarkably well for a creature that spends most of its time underwater. It merely refuses to acknowledge the things it hears unless they are deemed important. As such, very little is known about turtles up till a point where even turtles are uncertain if they themselves are turtles.


THIS CONCLUDES PART 4. PART 5 IS COMING SOON!