Followers

Mighty Jacksparrow is an Earth-based sub-intergalactic blogger who enjoys writing and in the same time entertaining his ever-amusing will-kill-to-read fans with sensationally hilarious and at times dramatic musings. This blog offers endless ideas and results; they might be charming most of the times but could be offending in some others. Therefore, it is always noble to remind that if you enjoy the pieces, carry on reading, but if they upset you, do quietly leave like the evening breeze and not like exploding diarrhea, which exactly what you will look like if you ever lose it on me. Enjoy! :D

Monday, May 31, 2010

Waking Up the Grand Old Lady



As promised, these are the pictures taken during the pulling work of 56 class steam locomotive MR No. 564.36 'Temerloh' from Gemas railway station all the way up to Seremban and later to Kuala Lumpur to be displayed at the old Kuala Lumpur railway station as to celebrate KTMB's 125 years of service in Peninsular Malaysia.

The mission took more or less 16 hours to complete as the diesel locomotive that pulled the steam locomotive and other additional coaches was allowed to travel at 30km/h as to minimize any damage to the old locomotive.

Among the ten participants cum railway fans/enthusiasts from all sectors of KTMB mainline service, there were too KTMB officials and as well as two representatives from Kosmo! press.

And then there was me; the only non KTMB-related railway fan from the Northern sector, or more accurately Ipoh-Lahat-Batu Gajah mainline.

And here are my stories, depicted in images specially handpicked by me myself to tell the tale to you readers.


* * *


The Old Gemas Station Signboard


Arrived in Gemas via Express Wau from Kuala Lumpur at roughly 12.00am, many of us decided not to sleep (though in the end there were only two of us who really didn't, me included) and spent our times with trainspotting activities.


A 24-class locomotive 'Hang Nadim' resting at mainline track no. 2 while waiting for an incoming express for motive power change duty.


The incoming Senandung Malam Coach bound for Kuala Lumpur


'Hang Nadim' throttling up to leave Gemas bound for North pulling Senandung Malam consist.


A 26-class Blue Tiger locomotive pulling empty YTL cement consist resting at siding 5 in order to make way for Senandung Malam to pass.


We started early morning the next day to prepare Temerloh for its maiden departure since the past 13 years when she last ended her duty in Peninsular Express. She is the only locomotive of her class that is in working condition. Built in 1947, she is indeed a grand old lady.


564.46 'Temerloh'


The fireman seat in the locomotive control cab. A fireman assists the driver in many errands that require less of the driver's attention while driving the heavy metal vehicle.


Valves and gauges of the locomotive.


The valve plate of the locomotive. Notice the seal writing.


The motive power transmission to the main traction wheel with builder's emblem.


A morning express arriving in Gemas.


'Made in England' - FMSR stands for Federal Malay State Railway while Timken was the company that supplied valves, gears, transmissions and other mechanical parts of the locomotive.


The smoke from a PGC - Power Generation Car - at the end of the consist as its engine ignition was initiated.


Rusting plates and wheels caused unnecessary clanking and friction, so a lot of lubrication was applied to all steel in contact.


The journey started - steep banks with clear slope seen here when the train set pulled by a 29-class Dalian left Gemas bound for North.


At Batang Melaka where the train met a mighty incoming storm that could be seen in the image above.


The dark sky as seen from the passenger coach


Fallen petals celebrated our arrival at Batang Melaka. We stopped at the station to make way for an incoming express train from North.


Our train resting at mainline track no. 2.


And here comes the rain - heavy pours finally changed the way the trip was handled. More careful approach was taken to ensure full safety of the locomotive.


The express train given full clear way ahead. Green light, green flag, throttle up.


The journey continued but the steam locomotive started to produce smoke from her firetubes. The consist was forced to a halt in the middle of a jungle for checkup procedure.


A staff clearing the smoke pit of the locomotive at Tampin station


Along the way we saw this pack of water buffaloes.


And also this cute-looking abandoned house.


The driving cab of Indian locomotive YDM4

We made three stops - Batang Melaka, Tampin and at the middle of the jungle. The last halt was at Rembau station to make way for two express trains to pass.


YDM4 acted as a banker and brake-van at the rear end of the consist, seen here resting at Rembau siding.


Sun shone on Temerloh majestically while she was having her rest in Rembau.


Red light means no clear way ahead. We have to wait until the two trains pass before the light turns green again signalling clear way in the mainline, safe for journey.


The incoming 6-up train bound for North.



Finally we moved into the mainline again at 8.30pm, and reached Seremban at around 10.30pm. We finally made it - bringing the grand old lady back to Seremban and later Kuala Lumpur, and later to Batu Gajah Depot for repair and restoration work. If things are alright, she will be used again as one of the motive power in KTMB passenger liner.

Everyone was happy though exhausted from the extremely long journey, especially for us the Malaysian Railwayfans, because to us this journey not only meant a lot but also is memorable enough to be cited over and over - the story of how the last steam locomotive in Malaysia was pulled with great amount of time, courage, patient and excitement along the mainline that she once roamed in the past, reminiscing the memories and bringing her back to her glorious years as once the most modern 'O' class locomotive serving in Malaya and Malaysia a long time ago.



We finally woke up the grand old lady.


* * *


Runaway train.


I am a railway enthusiasts since I was a child. My first train trip was from the old Kuala Lumpur station to Johore Bahru when I was still in my primary school, maybe in 1993. Since then I have been roaming the tracks to trainspot - looking at the moving steel caterpillars along the metal mainline back and forth, South and North.

To date I am a registered member of KTM Railwayfan Club and one of the very few representatives of local trainspotters of the central North mainline, consisting of Ipoh-Lahat-Batu Gajah stretch. The only trainspotter in Batu Gajah, I can be seen around Batu Gajah station at times doing trainspotter's log, or in the coaches itself, travelling back and forth finding romance in the midnight express.


Join me if any of you guys are interested!

Friday, May 28, 2010

Railroad Trip


Hello people.

Been long since I updated the blog.

Well I was quite busy and in the same time tired as well. I was one of the very few people who were invited by KTMB as railway-fans to proceed southbound on an express train to connect and to pull a 56-class steam locomotive 'Temerloh' from Gemas Station all the way heading northbound to Seremban. The total operation time for the pulling work was roughly 14 hours.

The expedition was very much interesting, I'd say. Despite the long, extended hour, I very much enjoyed the experience despite the fact that I was the only spotter from the Northern region. I will soon update the blog with many interesting pictures from the trip soon as I slowly recover from this extreme exhaustion.

Well here's a snippet:



MR 564.36 'Temerloh'


By the way I will be back in KL on Friday, May the 28th. My train will depart from Batu Gajah at 4.54am and will arrive hopefully on time, around 7.30am in Sentral Kuala Lumpur.




So see you there!


Monday, May 24, 2010

Phail!


Saturday, May 22, 2010

Haley


Quite a tiring day.

It rained the whole early morning until it somewhat stopped sometime near noon. Much to my surprise, the little kitty I mentioned in the post before this was still sleeping by then since she first slept sometime around 10.00pm the night before. She must be all exhausted.

I named her Haley.

Seeing her sleeping while curling her body around to trap heat at a corner of the box made me feel relieved. At least she was recovering from her bizarre wound. Probably hearing me moving about, Haley woke up and peeked out from the box with one of her hand on the box's edge, greeting me with small cries. She could be hungry, I thought, so I prepared her a small bowl of warm milk and a plate of kibbles and took her out from the box, placing her right next to her breakfast from which she consumed to the last bit.

I soaked a small towel with clean water and cleaned up her face and straighten her fur, for that today we both will be seeing the vet for treatment, and she had to look her best. I then placed her back in the box and brought her to the car and then all the way to a pet clinic somewhere in Falim, a small district right next to Ipoh.

The vet later confirmed that Haley's wound had been infected and she needed to be jabbed for that cause, from which I helped the vet holding the poor little thing as the needle poked through her skin and syringed the medication into her small body structure. She let out a loud cry with her small voice as she held her wounded arm shaking in the air and looked at me when that happened.

If there was anything I could do to ease her suffering, I would do it all, promise. And it hurt me so bad to see her in such pain, but since that was for her own good, I've got to stay with her and let her have it. Her eyes were all round and watery as if she was begging for mercy from me, and God knew how much sadness I have accumulated in my heart by then.

Since her injury was quite severed, she had to be admitted into the pet ward for treatment and monitoring for at least five days till she is good to go home. Quite to my disappointment actually, but knowing that that was for Haley's own good I allowed them vets to take care of her till she's fine again.

When I placed her in her temporary cage that soon to be her home for the next five days, she didn't even make a sound. All she did was to sit still at a corner with her injured arm hung in the air. When a worker took her away into the pet ward, she looked at me as her face later disappeared from behind the counter, her eyes all round and teary. I just sat while holding back my feelings and smiled at her instead, though she could probably tell that our feelings were all mutual by then.

I came back to my empty room to see that Haley's tiny kibble and drinking bowl was lying next to where she was sleeping soundly the whole night before. I sat next to it and as if she was there, I shoved the bowl to her, though she wasn't there at all. There were some of her fur I found on my bed. There was the towel I used to wipe her clean. There was the shirt I covered her from the heavy rain with. And suddenly it occurred to me.



I am not ashamed to say that I wept a little.


* * *


Though I and Haley only met yesterday, we did bond to each other pretty quickly. She ate kibbles in my hand and she was all kind and lovely to me even though she needed to force herself to jump forward each time she needed to move. The cries she made when she wanted my attention and the warmth I felt each time she knocked her head against my hand for me to pat. I wonder how is she doing by herself alone in the dark, unfamiliar place surrounded with larger animals in the pet ward. She must be scared and lonely.



She must be missing me just like the way I'm missing her right now.



p/s: get well soon, Haley.


Friday, May 21, 2010

Kitty Kitty Poke Poke


Went out with Malin today for early dinner. Happened to drop by at a local pet store and decided to buy a kilo worth of cat kibbles as to entertain all the stray cats that happen to throw some tunes at me whenever they see me around.

Went back to my block after sending Malin off. Saw this one small, not a kitten not yet an adult, cat lying by itself under the decorative plants they planted next to each block for color-enhancement purposes. I called it and it right away responded by nodding but didn't make a move at all, so I went to check it out.

Only to know that the poor thing has one of its arm badly swollen with a small open wound from which I reckoned due to a broken bone but yet to confirm.

Attended the cat, wiped its fur, apparently a girl, with warm water and cleaned up her wound. Gave her some kibbles and plain water, and now she's sleeping soundly on a layer of my short pants inside a box I happened to keep for occasions such as this.


..zzzz..

It's the front arm, right side that got injured.


Gonna bring her to the vets tomorrow. Hang on, kitty! I'll save ya! Ahahahahaha.. oh wait she doesn't have a toilet yet.


Ah crap.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

The House


It all started from the rain.

All she asked for was to go out, have dinner with close friends and doing the usual activities they oftentimes enjoy together. All she asked for was to hang out with some of the closest friends she ever had and share her miseries over the passing few days just to let out of what she had been keeping inside the same amount of time. But it was all because of the rain.

Damn the rain, she said to herself.

Unfortunately for her, rain started to fall heavily since when she left her office earlier that day. It was unexpected at all, for it had been clear days for more than a week until, making her to put all the blames for ruining her night to every drop of water that hit the ground that night. She ended up having instant noodle and hot cocoa for dinner alone by herself at the huge dinner table located next to the kitchen in that two-story house she lived in by herself since the first day she started working at her current employing company, that was kind enough to let her stay in the company's house with half the normal rental cost.

The house was a typical 2-story terrace house, only that it was located at the end of the row as an end lot facing the still undeveloped bushes and shrubs of typical tropical plains. It was very quiet except for the noise that was produced from the still heavy downpour outside. The satellite TV was down and somewhat she still hadn't picked up the radio set she sent for repair the other day, making her night an even more unbearable one. Sometimes the wind gave out eerie sounds, similar to when a woman's cry every time it flows into the house through any opening it could find. And lets not mention the terrible thunder and lightning that was ongoing, as if a war was happening miles above the earth surface.

When she was done with her meals, she took both her bowl and her mug to the sink, cleaned them up and placed them on the drier, until she remembered that there was this another mug that she used early that morning that she had yet to clean somewhere at the living room. Might as well clean the bugger up she said, and so she went to the living room and picked the mug up, still with cocoa drink leftover in it before returning to the kitchen sink amidst the ongoing eerie sounds of the wind and the thundering sky.

Only to see that both the bowl and the mug she had just cleaned up were still in the kitchen sink.

This freaked her up a little, but not enough to make her go out of her mind. Could be my memory, she said, for when she was cleaning them just now all in her mind was the hatred she had for the rain. Damn the rain she said again while cleaning all the dishes in the sink and hang them all at the dish dryer.

She turned off the lights in the kitchen, returned to the living room and sat on one of the three huge but comfy sofas that were there when she first started staying in the house. She flipped over the magazines she brought home from the office but nothing interesting was in there, so she placed it back in the magazine holder and stared at the clock on the wall. Almost a few seconds following a loud thunder banged in the open sky, the lightning flashed the entire living room and soon followed she found herself in the dark.

A blackout. Damn it, she grunted.

Being an electrical engineer herself, it was not at all a problem to her. She remembered all the locations of every items in the living room, so she walked around them to the main switch box, found the breaker switch and flipped it up so that electricity could be supplied to the house again. When she did, all lights switched on again, including the lights in the kitchen. The lights in the kitchen were supposed to be off, she thought to herself.

Well maybe just some wiring cockup or something, she thought to herself again.

So she went to the small kitchen and headed right away to the switches that were somewhat located next to the sink, only to find that the two mugs and the bowl she earlier cleaned up were right there in the sink. It sent shivers to the back of her neck first before the whole body. Something is not right, she said to herself, and so she slowly retreated her way to the living room without turning her back nor turning the kitchen lights off, her eyes pointed straight to the sink.

The rain was still heavy. Thunder and lightning everywhere.

When she exited the kitchen, all the lights in the living room were flickering out of a sudden, and the TV set was on but only showing static. This caused her to even more freak out, sudden coldness started to blanket herself from out within. Her legs felt as if they weren't there, and she was starting to feel terribly frightened. She walked slowly past the sofas, that the location of each faced the static TV, with every flickering of light made something visible to her eyes - clear prints on the sofas as if there were people sitting on them all but nowhere to be seen.

She freaked out. She cried.

She ran upstairs as fast as she could and into her bedroom which was left brightly lit since she came back from work and slammed the door close. She jumped into her bed and started citing all the holy verses she knew, though the verses she read were shuffled to one another due to her extreme fright. She cried and she cried and she cried as she hugged herself on the large king-sized bed in the middle of the large bedroom. The sound of the wind got suddenly louder, sending the chilly message surrounding the entire house.

And then it happened.

First, the light in the bathroom started to flicker and soon remained lit. The bathroom door was slowly closed from the inside, followed with the sound as if someone was having shower. But that was not all - there was definitely a woman there, and she knew this from the sound she heard; a woman's voice, singing some old tunes.

And then while this was still ongoing, the knockings started from inside her bedside wardrobe and from below her bed. The knockings were slow and could be barely heard, but loud enough to send her another wave of terrible, heart-stopping shivers to her spines. Terror got the best of her, and she cried even worst from extreme fear. All these she could see and hear from where she was sitting. Suddenly the bedroom lights went off and the bathroom door opened. Her heart was any minute to a total stop.

But no one came out.

But at the end of the bed, something appeared - a head of long-haired girl in white dress followed by her body, her skin was so pale and her lips were gray, and she was staring at her with just one eye in the socket, whereby in the other there was nothing but a dark, empty socket. All the girl did was to stand at the end of the bed, staring at her as she pulled her legs closer to herself, and smiling with those eerie gray lips. Her crying had already stopped by now, but tears went on nonstop. She saw her mug hung in the air next to the girl, static.

A very close lightning stroke next to the house, sending a flash of light into her bedroom. She quickly closed her eyes and screamed her lungs out, and once settled she opened her eyes only to see that everything was back to normal. No one-eyed girl, the bathroom light was off, and the bedroom lights were all on. At this time she cried so much to her relief, and after a minute or two she reached to her phone that was on the bedside table all the time and called her best friend, who was also her lover. Lucky for her, her best friend answered the call and she told everything to him in tears, while the man on the other side soothed her down.

He promised her that he will come in minutes and he wanted her to stay calm until.

A few minutes went past so slowly. She was all frightened by the series of events that had caused her to lose half of her life, and she hoped her boyfriend will come soon. She kept telling to herself that things will be alright, and she was positive about it. At least all she needed to do was to stay on the bed without the needs to go downstairs and open the main door for the boyfriend because he had the spare keys to the house.

A message entered her mobile. It was from him, saying that he was already downstairs and that he was about to enter the house so that she won't freak out should she hears anything following. She replied with 'okay'.

She held her breath when the door to the bedroom was opened from the outside, only to her relief that she saw her boyfriend appearing. He right away dashed to her and hugged her tight, telling her that he's already there and there's nothing to be afraid of anymore as she cried her tears out. Finally it all ended, she told to herself. He held her hands and told her to walk behind him to leave the house so that she could stay over at her house instead.

When they both walked down the stairs, she saw that the living room was brightly lit - no flickering, no static TV. She felt relieved. First thing tomorrow, she will go to the office and ask to vacant the house by hook or by crook. They both went out the house through the main door and she threw her looks outside to the still pouring rain while letting her boyfriend locking the door and the iron-grill. Another message entered her mobile that she happened to be holding since she first grabbed it, and she pressed on the 'read' button without looking at it but instead at the rain still, because there was something in her mind.

It was still raining, but how come her boyfriend was not wet at all? That was when she took a look at the mobile for the message from her boyfriend that read,





"Wait. I will be over soon. I'm still on the way."


Please, Mom?

Giant Isopod


* * *

Can I keep him at home?

Please?

Please mom?


Wednesday, May 19, 2010

To Trace A Backstabber


Often you wonder if your friends are worth befriending with. People are naturally untrustworthy, therefore you need to practice a few methods in order to evaluate your friends' worthiness. These are a few simple and easy techniques that can be used to assess your friends and at times, your enemy, if he/she is worth the fight.

Black Propaganda Technique

1. Pick a trusted friend (Trusted) and brief him/her about the plan. This friend has to be a friend of your person in test (Subject) too.
2. Start a fight with your Trusted and let your Subject knows about it.
3. Deploy false information, preferably full with hatred about the Trusted you currently in a cold war with to your Subject , and tell him/her to keep it as 'the secret just between us'.
4. Wait.
5. If your Trusted confirms that the false information you told the Subject, supposedly 'the secret just between us' has traveled to his/her knowledge, your Subject is confirmed a backstabber.

Local Agent Technique

1. Employ an agent, preferably your trusted friend (Agent) whom your person in test (Subject) doesn't know about the relationship you both are having.
2. Send the double agent to gather information about you from the Subject by means of either espionage work from far or direct approach by befriending the Subject.
3. Evaluate the feedback from the double agent.
4. If the Subject talks too much unpleasantly about you to the Agent, he is confirmed a backstabber.

Double Agent Technique

1. Employ the Agent your Subject beforehand has employed to gather information about you, to gather information about him/her and also to deploy false information about you to him/her.
2. This method is usually risky because the Agent works both ways.
3. As long as your Subject does not notice this, your agent is safe. If noticed, your agent becomes expendable.

Inside Agent Technique

1. Find a friend in your Subject's ring who has the least affection towards your Subject.
2. Gather information from him/her without establishing any close relationship in between you and him, unlike Local and Double Agents.
3. This technique is also known as Black Sheep Method.
4. This method requires you to gather information from the Subject's natural backstabber to find out if you are getting back-stabbed by him/her.

Monitor Technique

1. This could be done by yourself.
2. Monitor the movements and activities of your Subject carefully without sending in any undercover.
3. If your subject does something that raise your suspicions, the Subject is confirmed a backstabber.


No one forgives a backstabber. Good luck!

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The Story of Stupid


Remember Cinderella?

Good. At least I don't have to start all over again with the introduction to this story because this story took place in the same place with that of Cinderella, only at different time frame; around a few years after Cinderella died from that mishap that occurred in the operating theater where her cosmetic surgeon accidentally sneezed into her open nasal cavity, causing her to be instantly infected with germs to the brain that sent her straight to the afterlife. This totally saddening occurrence had since caused a major change in the world of medicine where surgeons and attending medical personnels are required to wear masks while treating all patients, whereby the surgeon who attended Cinderella, according to the country's new law at the time that had faced a complete makeover by the ruling Country Whore, was sent to serve his sentence at a local brothel as a low-class male prostitute meant to serve the third class folks for forty years or until he suffers from impotence or he dies out of sexual exhaustion, whichever comes first.

Not a great way to serve a sentence, anyway. Now let's get back to the main story.

This is a story about how a lad that is Mr. James E. Dong, a local from a town roughly thirteen miles away from Country Whore's castle, amused everyone not only from within the ruling territory of the principal kingdom of Her Majesty Country Whore but also those from around the world with his stories.

So grab a coffee and let's read on.


* * *

"Rama Lama Ding Dong."

Much to all the confusions created from the sentence seen above, it is a very wise thing to do to inform the readers that Mr. Dong, despite his perfectly acceptable, oriental-sounding real name, insisted everyone to address him as 'Rama Lama Ding Dong'. He also outlined the way for him to be addressed, that is first to utter the name 'Rama Lama' while shaking both hands vigorously in the air and making extremely and excitedly happy facial expression before turning the head to smell own armpits, right-side first while saying 'Ding' and the left-side for 'Dong'. This completely nonsensical, stammeringly humiliating way of addressing someone was clearly an idea designed to perfection by Mr Dong himself, none other than humiliate others as a regular entertainment to amuse himself, who apparently was not an easy person to amuse by his own nature.

Mr Dong was a fashionably-rich bachelor in his early forties who had an IQ of 165 who lived by himself in a mansion located in an uncharted backyard of the commonly-terrorized end of the royal garden shed of Country Whore's castle. Regular terrorizing activities that occurred days and nights at every place surrounding his mansion, best by drunk royal horse-cart drivers who oftentimes crashed into the wall of the mansion at night thinking that the mansion's front-side oil-lamp was the entrance to the castle and annoying noise from the royal garden each time the Country Whore held a bubble bath party that was almost daily caused him to move all thirteen miles away to Dumbshire, a small town named after its residents who, according to Mr Dong "have no brains but praise to God at least their hearts are right in place".

Good thing about Mr Dong was that he was a very generous man; he donated a lot to the people of the town including providing them with infant-level education facilities and was the only reason why Dumbshire then had a brand-new Mayor House from which Mr Dong resided in after the people made him the mayor following his effort in rebuilding the house that was entirely burnt down during the last raining season in the middle of a 3-foot flash flood. The construction certainly did not trouble Mr Dong at all, for he pursued a brilliant academic career at The Royal College of Faraway Land (later when Country Whore took over the throne was renamed to The Royal College of Nothing, that despite its name suggesting that it offered some sort of technical teaching, really did nothing) studying engineering, economy, forestry science, astronomical physic, gymnastic, driving, social skills and soon after the college was renamed while he was still there, nothing.

The bad thing about him was that he needed to be regularly entertained but at the same time was terribly hard to please. He felt that he deserved to be entertained after all he did to the town and its people, hence first led to the creation of the way for them to address him in such a way that somehow amused him a little bit though not entirely, and the people of Dumbshire didn't mind at all because they thought Mr Dong had just taught them some sense of pop culture that was popular at that time.

The people of Dumbshire, though dumb, were very heartwarming in filling this clearly weird and wicked needs of him, but at all account had failed many times due to their inability to come out with even a simple joke; a disability that was common among the folks of Dumbshire, due to their out-of-the-world dumbness. Nevertheless they worked hard for many years until sometime in autumn that year came a young lad who appeared before Mr Dong when he was busy building a fully-walled public toilet; the first of its kind ever built in Dumbshire, complete with auxiliary piping system and overhead shade, a drastic effort taken by Mr Dong when he decided that he had had enough with the people of Dumbshire who, if not by the wall, had their nature calls answered on the wall of his house, that is also the Mayor's Residence.


* * *


He addressed Mr Dong in full, perfectly-done Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong salute and shook his hand, making him the first to shake the hand of the mayor since he was made one. This had certainly shocked Mr Dong, who immediately stopped the work on the public toilet to take a full look at that young gentleman from Dumbshire who apparently practiced the manner of real men and not that of a quarter-sober drunk ostrich who puts its head in the sand whenever addressed, thereby exposing its thinking parts.

"Who are you?" asked Mr Dong to the young gentleman.

"The name's this, Mr Dong," replied the young man before he drew some, that to the people of Dumbshire, ridiculous, mostly nonsensical and unreadable sentences that were only consisted of number 1 and 0.

"A Binary code," said the amused Mr Dong. "Fifteen years since I first arrived here in Dumbshire and this is the first time I see a binary code, that also spelled 'stupid'."

"That is me alright, sir," said the young gentleman.

"You are stupid?" asked Mr Dong, slightly even more amused.

"Not exactly, sir," replied the young gentleman. "I am indeed Stupid, and though my name is spelled in such a way, I do own an IQ of 160 and somewhat an excess baggage of humor, hence me spelling my name on this layer of roughly fine granules of rocks and minerals that is also known as sand in binary, though I could answer your question that is 'What is your name' with the answer that is 'Stupid', but I reckoned you were smart enough to read in binary hence me answering you in such, and I was right about my first thought that you are able to read in binary, hence proving that you are not stupid like my name implies though I really am not stupid, for our difference in IQ is only, exactly and precisely 2 points."

Hearing this, Mr Dong passed out right at that instant. Imagine what he must had felt, being surrounded by people in Dumbshire who oftentimes at the very least mistakenly took a frying pan as a toilet bowl and the other way around because they generally owned an IQ that was slightly higher than that of retards, to meet such a fine, young gentleman that was not only smart, witty, amusing, and also possessed the word 'Stupid' as his name. For full three days and three nights he was unconscious until he finally woke up in his bed in the Mayor's Residence one cold morning. First thing he saw was Stupid, who right away performed the perfectly-done Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong Salute.

"What had happened to me?" asked Mr Dong while brushing his hair and head with his hand.

"You passed out and barfed soup of corns, most of the grain visible, on my shoes the other day when we first met, sir," replied Stupid politely.

"My," said Mr Dong in shame, "that must have been stupid."

"Not me, sir."

"Of course it's not you," pressed Mr Dong. "What, are you stupid?"

"I am, sir."

"I didn't mean that. I said I must have been stupid doing those you mentioned."

"You certainly are correct, sir."

"Of course I am! What? Are you...ah forget it."

Mr Dong rose from his bed and looked out the window and saw the gathering crowd in front of his house, whom when seeing that Mr Dong was entirely alright after the corn soup incident the other day cheered in the masses and performed the synchronized but overall distasteful Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong Salute.

"Look at them all stupid people, doing stupid," said Mr Dong, clearly dissatisfied with his effort to educating the whole town for them to at least obtain some sort of decency to realize that the salute was nothing but all a very stupid thing to do.

"They are not my people, sir. And they are certainly not doing me, for I am right here tangentially standing to you in a manner which they certainly could not touch me and do me whatsoever, disproving your saying that they are but they aren't, a fact from which still supports the fact that I am a virgin nevertheless regardless of you pointing on another opposing fact that I am not following the statement that you said they are doing me, which they are not, sir."

Mr Dong looked at Stupid in the eyes, who at the time was politely smiling at him, and wondered if he ever received any cheek-ripping, flaming-hot slap in his whole entire life.


* * *

Mr Dong and Stupid became close friends soon after that, though at times Mr Dong was really challenged to his limit to whether he should slap Stupid with the back of a shovel or knock him on the face with a rock hammer due to his obnoxious way of answering him whenever he rose a question. Both of them helped develop the town and in less than 2 years, the average IQ of the people rose drastically 7 points above the original, and the town emerged to be the most advanced and highly developed region in the whole country, hosting the country's first superbowl arena, a drive-in fast-food outlet that came with floor cleaners in case the horses that pulled incoming carts decided to answer the call of nature at the drive-in kiosk itself, a 4-D Toto shop, a preschool education center that educated mostly adults, and at least three skyscrapers at the time, that each measured 7 floors high, all half a floor higher than that of Country Whore's castle.

This has certainly stirred an extreme madness in the Country Whore, for many people were leaving the capital city to Dumbshire to see for themselves the wonder of those man-made things both Mr Dong and Stupid had built. That surely have impacted the royal prostitution business where many whore-houses had been closed down due to drops in demand. Completely bedridden from final stage HIV she was suffering from, she ordered the royal engineers, all infected with various types of STDs, to 'do something or risk to be sent to the male brothel'. Scared as shit, though everyone knows that shit does not have feelings, they executed a major overhaul in the main capital sewage pipeline, redirecting them to mainly flow instead of from Dumbshire, resulting to a massive wastewater buildup under the town very own foundation.

The buildup caused the town to slowly experience some really nasty incidents; buildings and people started to sink and collapse into pools of shits building up underground, killing them instantly and caused major wrecks in infrastructures and air quality of Dumbshire. Sensing the problem, Stupid presented a major solution to the problem in order to stop the disaster for once and for all.

"Right here," said Stupid to Mr Dong while pointing his finger at a trapdoor on the ground they were standing on, "there is a valve that have remained buried for many years for occurrences such as this that is happening right in front of our eyes."

"Therefore I," he continued as he undid his clothes, "will go down there and open it to allow re-channeling of this completely disgusting and comprehensively danger-promoting disastrous wastewater that is the cause to our suffering.

"That is the most stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life!" yelled Mr Dong, though somewhat amused by the idea, before continuing with his legendary saying: "What? Are you stupid?!"

To which Stupid replied, "that I am indeed, sir," and jumped into the manhole after he opened the trapdoor into the pool of stenching pool of shit that awaited restlessly for his landing. Soon after that, a series of scary sounds started to originate from the bottom of the manhole, and slowly the level of wastewater that by then had surfaced and overflown reduced to none. Stupid had done his job well by opening the valve, and Dumbshire was rescued by his brave attempt from being completely reduced to ashes. And shits.

Stupid however never resurfaced, and was then commemorated a fallen hero of Dumbshire. A statue of him was erected at the center of the town right in front of the Mayor's Residence, much to Mr Dong's annoyance because he still had yet to decide whether he should slap the bronze statue with the back of a shovel, or stamp its face with a rock hammer.


* * *

The story of Stupid traveled many miles across the continents, much by the effort of the people of Dumbshire, whom after the disaster had returned from their runaways and rebuilt the town back to perfection and told and re-told the story many times to visiting tourists and to their young springs who later traveled the world, bringing with them the story of Stupid. He is until today regarded a hero, and his bravery is still remembered by adoring many.

That is also believed as the real reason why when people say that they are ought to do something stupid, which at first is indeed crystal-clear to them of its pure stupidity but they did it anyway, is to commemorate the heroic sacrifices and braveness of dear Mr Stupid of Dumbshire who swam through a river of shit, never to resurface.





And this is indeed, a very stupid story to tell.


Sunday, May 16, 2010

Cinderella: The Legend


Once upon a time in quite a faraway land, best not to be described by distance in order to preserve its sentiment, there was a beautiful country that, despite it being outstandingly neat for a country, was never mentioned in any historical evidence to prove its existence but nevertheless mentioned as a set from which this story took place, and by having it stated the writer was expecting to receive not at all a question about just the hell why would he mention such a beautiful, hope-promoting imaginary place for this particular story that should have begun by now but yet to because he needs to make everyone clear before proceeding. If everyone is clear about it then we shall proceed.

Alright.

In that country lived one, despite his mountain-worth of money and possessions, lonely widowed man that had been living in extreme loneliness for almost twenty years since his wife passed away after delivering their only child, a sensationally beautiful daughter that was then in her early twenties. Although she was indeed an eye-popping damsel, she never attended any proper education institute whatsoever because her father, the widowed man, became so messed up after the death of his wife that he abandoned his duty as a father and instead let his daughter to grow by herself, totally uneducated and as many would have already figured, best known as the town idiot.

But no one knew that this idiot had one day became a legend of the country, from which the reason will only be revealed at the end of this story.

Strangely enough, the widowed man one day decided that he had had enough and decided to marry a widowed woman with two slightly older daughters than his. When the second wife and her daughters arrived at the house for the first time, they asked him about his daughter, who was at the time seen to be sitting by herself on a piece of rock next to the fireplace.

The man of was speechless. It slowly came to his mind that, quite to his own amusement, he did not even name her since she was born twenty years back. In fact he didn't much realize about her existence at all, for she was taken care of by the servants of a hundred and two in total since birth, and always mistakenly took her as one of them each time they bumped into each other at any part of the house, which was too pretty messed up. Not wanting to be seen as a complete joke to his new family, he quickly gathered information about what he saw when he looked at his daughter and her surrounding. After around a minute of intensely-hard thinking moment, he finally told them that her name was Cinderella, after the rock segment she was sitting on at the time that was a cinder type, completely rejecting the first two names he came out with; Lady Arserock and Little Miss Pebble, in the name of decency and maturity values of this story.

To cut the story short, her father somehow died the first night he was in bed with his new wife. Not wanting to spoil the entire town's sense of humor, the police classified his death as natural death, though they found him that morning to follow up with the second wife's report about the unfortunate incident covered in what appeared to be plentiful of leather garments, colorful rubber balls, a six-foot long whip and spots of whipped cream with cherries on top. Following this incident, the second wife became somewhat a flaming-hot celebrity among the policemen for quite some time, and is still believed until today as the real reason why the town lost thirteen policemen in the course of three months after that, all from natural causes as confirmed by the police, due to the fact that she was seen to be the scenes with those dead cops just a few hours before their deaths were reported.

She was then known as the town whore, causing her to painfully retreated to her late husband's house and stayed there as to remain low for a while with the three daughters; two of her own and another will be Cinderella.

Now Cinderella, since the death of her father, was forced by the Stepmother (from whom was referred to as The Whore or codename 'W' as encouraged by the 102 servants of the house) to work as a general worker in the house with never at all any specific field of job. She fixed the plumbing issues, mowed the lawn, washed the horse-cart, bathed the horse, bought groceries, cooked, did the laundry, provided manicure and pedicure service to W and her daughters (later known as the Pears; one reason because they were always in pair, and another thing was because both of them owned the biggest female bottoms ever recorded in the country since the dawn of mankind), picked up the newspaper, set the fireplace, guarded the house, and also assisted the Pears to move around due to their extremely huge bottoms.

In the same time, the Prince of the country, was desperate enough to get married that he would pick anyone as his wife or, unless he did so, he will be forced to marry his own cousin, who held the title the Country Whore, an advanced supreme title a few levels higher than the one currently at the time held by W. The Prince despised his cousin so much that he was once heard to say that "I would have married a pig than to marry that woman, the Country Whore," but later pulled back that statement after a few of the country's finest pigs were brought before him, one to be chosen as the royal bride, from which he offensively refused that the royal guards had to slaughter all the pigs to stop him from crying and stomping his feet wildly on the castle ground.

As to ease his search for a wife, the Prince ordered for a ball to be held at the castle in three days time, and later changed it to that day's evening itself, and all available ladies were invited to attend. Hearing this, W, being a whore she was, insisted to go to the ball together with the Pears; a trick she pulled so that, comparatively to the Pears, she was the most appealing, because she had not the biggest butt in the history of the country. This was somewhat overheard by Cinderella, who was then unclogging the sewage pipeline that was clogged starting from the Pears' room toilet all the way to the town's main underground sewage junction, a phenomenon that oftentimes occurred after the Pears had too much meat in their meals days before.

Cinderella decided to go to the ball, for she was indeed looking for a new challenge. The Prince surely owned a kickass big castle, and that could mean that there were many lawns to be mowed, more pipes to be unclogged and more other relatively challenging house chores that she found extremely interesting to participate in. But as to notice her completely unappealing clothes features, she gave it up a few seconds after and instead focused on what she was doing - unclogging the clogged pipeline. And then somewhat in a completely unexpected and unplanned accident, she knocked her legs against the wall of the pipeline that made her to yell out loud, "holy shit!"

And almost at an instant, a ray of light started to radially shine in front of her right at the end opening of the pipeline, that was also the toilet bowl, blinding her for a few seconds. When she gained back her sights, she saw somewhat a little fairy that at first looked like a seriously hot-looking woman with seriously curvy physical appearance but soon appeared to be a confirmed hermaphrodite once Cinderella noticed her extremely flashy, out-of-the-earth kind of attire.

"Hello," the fairy happily greeted Cinderella, "I am the toilet fairy being summoned when you cursed just now." Right when Cinderella wanted to say something, the fairy cut into her speech and continued, "not to be completely mistaken with Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo, I am not as disgusting. I strongly assure you that me and him are not at all related, and I am here to help you with anything that you need."

And so Cinderella gave the fairy her first task - to unclog the sewage pipeline, from which the fairy finally completed in a handful amount of a total three hours, before being ordered to complete the rest of the house chores, from which the fairy did without a complain being logged in. And then once W and the Pears left the house for the ball, Cinderella ordered the fairy to do something so that she too could attend the ball. This let the fairy, as to make Cinderella pay for making her (or him, whichever applicable) do all the chores, insisted Cinderella to find a pumpkin, a rat, four mice and a lizard before she could do anything, from which Cinderella, over the course of the next three hours managed to find them all.

"So are you going to put a spell on them like the story said?" asked Cinderella to the fairy, from which the fairy replied by shaking her (his?) head. "Nope," the fairy said. "I was just messing with you. By the way I have called the horse limo and the dress rental. They could be here any minute now."

And they indeed did.

Cinderella put on the dress the rental service provided and she was annoyed to notice that her shoes were made of glass, but didn't say anything about it, though when worn the completely unpadded, 3-inch stiletto shoes were killing her toes and heels. She threw herself into the horse-limo and the fairy soon slammed the door close before telling her to be careful with the dress and all and come back home before midnight because the rental for the limo and dress will end by that time, and that the bill will soon be debited from W's account.

And then the limo dashed to the castle, which was not too far at all and took only three minutes travel time before it arrived at the entrance of the castle where the Prince, after greeting almost a thousand ladies including W, the Pears and his awful cousin the Country Whore, stopped the cart and was about to greet Cinderella who apparently was the last to arrive when he suddenly saw the extreme beauty and appealing features that Cinderella presented, including the completely unpadded, 3-inch stilettos she was wearing. He quickly ordered the guards to ask all the other guests to leave and return home as immediately, and to open fire to those who ignore and/or resist to do so. As a result, at least thirty-five people were shot dead, among them were W, who still insisted to meet the Prince nevertheless, and the Pears, who were too tired to move around after parading their ass around the ballroom since their arrival.

Cinderella was then brought to another ballroom by the Prince himself in order not to scare her with the massacre that happened in the other room, and they both had their entertainingly pleasing night together, and by the look of it the Prince was clearly pleased with her, until when the bell from the tower started to ring indicating that the time was then midnight. In panic, Cinderella jumped over the royal dinner table and ran full speed to the entrance, leaving the confused Prince behind, only to see that the limo was about to leave. She quickly pulled her dress up and started running down the stairs as to chase after the limo, a decision that proved to be a disastrous one when she accidentally stepped on her other foot and rolled down the stairs, covering over a full twenty-foot distance, before hitting on the ground, face first. When she stood up, the limo was gone and the Prince was still behind her, causing her to put off both her shoes and dashed to leave the royal compound.

She reached home safely but was charged double the next morning over the loss of both pair of shoes rented to her by the rental service.

In the meantime at the royal compound, the Prince was still sitting at the gate into the castle with the two royal guards who were completely surprised by his presence. The Prince looked very miserable, clearly the result from losing the only lady that had astonished him completely the night before. All he had was a pair of shoes that she wore, by a lady he did not even remember her name because he was busy checking her out the whole time. Frustrated, he ordered the royal guards to look for the one who can wear such shoes, for he was sure that there was only one person that could wear them, and that person has got to be the lady he fell in love with less than twelve hours ago.



And so the search begun.


* * *


The expedition to find the girl whose feet could fit in the glass shoes took a total of three months, and during the search there were more than three hundred women, including the underage and the menopause, managed to perfectly fit and wear the shoes, for the shoe size was not uncommon in the country. This had led the Prince to break down and decided to reside in his castle for the rest of his life from his extreme frustrations and was later reported to be mentally-retarded as a result from the prolonged period of grieving. This provided his cousin the Country Whore a golden opportunity to claim the throne and ruled the country as the first female of such kinds to have such power over the entire kingdom before she died of HIV a few years after. She was later replaced by her daughter, who proved to be the grandest of her mother's kind but somewhat managed to keep the economy at best despite the whole commotions.

Cinderella suffered for a long time from very bad injuries on her face following her fall the night she rolled down the castle stairs while attempting to chase after the limo. She dared not to open the door of the house, that had since belonged to her after the deaths of W and the Pears, when the royal guards came to ask for anyone who could wear the glass shoes, twice. She did attempt to have facial makeover using the newly-developed plastic surgery technique but died on the operation table on her third visit.

During her funeral the rental service people came to claim their overdue bills, and that was how the crowds were made known that she was the person to have caused the Prince to go haywire and ever since had been the talk of the town for the next twenty-six generations, from which her stories were re-created over and over to produce what we today know as the fairytale story about the same person, only that the stories differ in a lot of places.

And from then on, from truly a local idiot, she became the legend.


A Promise To Break


I have never openly talk about my relationship.

Especially the last one.

But lately the amount of questions that came about were too tiring to handle. It's a good thing that I have yet to decide whether or not I should open a Formspring account, though I think the application is just another instant way for a fame makeover, unless I would have seen myself stuck all day to answering these questions among the unrelated others. By the look of it, probably I shouldn't at all, at least not until this total, unexplainable hype that started to peak sometime a month ago settle down over time.

So let's look about what I have to say about my past relationship.


* * *

First, I wasn't the person who left.

In fact I stayed all along, despite the many unfortunate incidents that at times really did force me to make a decision to split up. These includes the totally unnecessary arguments and strong turmoils in emotions that had relocated me again and again on the scale of love each time it happened. The relationship was indeed intense, sometimes with a lot of love and sometimes with a lot of hate. Confusion started to build up fast and fierce, and before I knew it it was already happening.

I held on to my promise to never to leave. And I did till the end.

If there is anything I would want to say about the relationship that finally went haywire, it would be this: the relationship, after a series of carefully-done thinking and re-evaluations, could be the biggest mistake I have ever done in my whole entire life. This was not because any of us was too wonderful for each other, neither too was any of us was too bad, but merely because although in major things we were somehow fit in together, there were too many little things that over the time together had accumulated and finally became an obstruction for the both of us to submit to.

Many of you did ask me the real reason why I didn't at all talk about my past relationship.

Well the reason being was simple; there was nothing else to talk about anymore. No matter how the reminiscence are explored, the fact that we split (though the word 'we' here is highly argumentative) would never change at all. Once the lightning strikes the rock, it splits into two, and that's it.

And when a number of freelance, self-proclaimed analysts came over to analyze things, I simply told them to just walk along, for there was nothing else to prove. It doesn't matter who was right or wrong; because relationship is the only vessel where two captains are allowed to decide the direction to go, and disagreements are always imminent. There is no escape to conflict, and that should be the first thing you have to know before you set to sail with someone whom you thought was very pleasant in land but otherwise in the open sea.

I am not very sure about what she would say, good or bad (but commonly in this world people usually give strong impressions on the latter), about me behind my back but if you ask me whether I would listen to it, I would have to decline. First reason has got to be because I am no longer subjected to her nor anyone, and I do not see the needs for me to listen to what she needs to say, best because I am not her first audience. Let her audience listen and what they need to do about it after that is totally out of my business, hence me keeping to my won perimeter all these while.

Except when some of them actually came over to ask me a few things in order to obtain a finer justice, I accepted them with open arms and let them hear my story. This of course I appreciated; at least I didn't go unnoticed and unheard. To become a good judge, you have to listen to both parties, and then only you make a decision. Best, don't become a judge at all, for the only who can precisely judge things at best is not human after all.

Second, I was not brought up as someone who label people whatsoever. I could be arrogant and the likes, with every big or little flaw you see as completely unacceptable for human to possess, but I try hard not to talk bad about others. My parents did a good job with that, and I am proud to say that I could be one of the persons you knew that gossip very less, nor condemn others at his best. Plus there is no logic behind it at all. There is no benefit to it at all, to trash other people just because they are not in line with the one we are following.

That is purely childish and immature, and I certainly do not have what it takes to bring myself so low to that point. In fact, I have lost all that it takes - I am a grown up, and I should behave like a grown up. If she needs to speak her piece then let her. I don't need to, and I don't see the need to.

I have had my shares and she had hers. We were happy then and we were sad, we were joyful and we were mad. Apart from some very little sacrifices I made to keep the relationship going, I did not really lose anything. In my position, there is nothing else to worry about.

And I have reached to a point where nothing could make me tick anymore. I am now calmer, happier, and freer than ever. I no longer need to entertain and spend like I used to do in an excess no one could ever really understand. I never shopped this much in my life. I never laugh this loud too. And never at all I thought I could be surrounded with these beautiful, handsome and strictly worth more than US yearly budget put together in twenty-five freaking years. Imagine, I built catacombs over my world for almost a year, secluding myself from the globe, failing to see the beauty of things around me, subjecting myself to just one person who in the end brought benefits of none to my life.

And lastly, there was a time when I was asked if I ever will get back to her should the day comes. Well I did make a promise during when I was in the relationship, that I would wait no matter what happened. Seeing that I did hold to my earlier promise that I will never leave, one may consider that I am still hanging to this one last promise I made.






Very little did they know, that that promise has already been broken.