Kung Fu Fighting (Part Fu)

How to Kick Someone Properry

Before Double M had fully erected himself upon standing up, Fu Yoh had launched himself into the air with his slim though powerful legs using the legendary Elephant Flying with Fire on Ass technique and spun the staff so quickly and masterfully above his head appearing momentarily like an early prototype of a machine to be created 500 years later known as the 'helicopter'. His clothes trembled and shook as he landed not five feet from where he landed stylishly with both feet solidly on the ground.

'Ah, so you know some kung fu,' chuckled Double M casually.

'I AM Kung Fu!' declared Fu Yoh angrily as he felt his chi building up around his points of power and struck the threatening Wounded Tiger Taking A Breather Before He Rips Your Face Off pose, his magnificent wooden staff held out in front of him. He could feel energy coursing into his arms down to his hands.

Double M stood unmoved though his grin grew broader until it was a shade short of being reasonably described psychotic.

'Kung Fu indeed. When I'm through with you, you'll be Kung Fool!'

'Yaaaaahhhh,' Fu Yoh screamed as he lept (Psychadelic Toad on Coke Jump) and dashed through the air, staff pointed resolutely at Double M's head, his feet running quickly on an ascending invisible stairs. Even as Fu Yoh rushed closer towards Double M, he made no move to deflect the blow. Suddenly, Fu Yoh felt worried even as he flew through the air. He could see the end of his staff almost touching Double M's head. Why was Double M not even moving? His gaze was fixed firmly on Fu Yoh's eyes and seemed to notice nothing else.

Suddenly his flight ended. Double M had caught the pointed end of his staff with his right palm and held it in place with Fu Yoh still clinging to the staff.

'It's time for you to meet the earth, little sparrow,' said Double M. When he flung the staff, Fu Yoh somersaulted on to the ground and struck the Tequila Grasshopper stance, both fists cackling with power. He rushed towards Double M and opened his attack with a wave of quick relentless punches known as the Thousand Kisses of Your Mother in Law an alternating it with a few Father In Law Loving Embrace long pull back punches. But Double M was not fazed; he met every blow with either a block or harmlessly redirected his punch.

Few could stand up to Fu Yoh's Parents in Law techniques, which usually brought a quick end to his fights. He learned it from his former wife's parents, who though were not trained showed remarkable natural ability. It was not his force that was deadly but his quickness. He could wear most opponent's down in several breaths because after a while they would not be able anticipate him. But Double M didn't even seem to break a sweat. And all the while his eyes were fixed on Fu Yoh's.

Then it happened. When Fu Yoh lost track of Double M's eyes and caught sight of his broad grin, it happened.

It was the blurred rushed haze. It was the feeling of an immovable object flying at great speed crashing into his chest and then another immovable object crashing into his right ribs so hard he heard a crack. It was him then flying through the air again on an entirely different trajectory not of his choosing. The grass below him rushed into a smooth uniform green. It was him landing from a great height on to the ground with another crack. It was him feeling something warm and wet spill out his mouth that was faced down on the ground. It was him reluctantly embracing the darkness he tried so hard to escape. It was the broad grin that he saw even when he could not open his eyes.

It was Double M.

The last words Fu Yoh heard in the distance before the darkness claimed him was:

'Kung Fool. Who's next?'

Kung Fu Fighting (Part 1)

A cool gentle breeze whispered through the large almost empty swaying field of long grass. A few white and light yellow petals occasionally floated by on invisible waves. Though not a cloud tarried in the deep blue sky, it was not hot as the sun was nowhere to be seen. A single large knotted trunk and densely leafed tree stood almost in the centre of the field, its twisted gnarled roots like tortured hands grasping something, anything, desperate for escape.

This is a good day to die, mumbled Double M.

He wore a simple robe that used to be light brown. It was less tattered and frayed around the edges with patched here and there. Double M sat on one of the thicker twist of root leaning against the deeply wrinkled trunk. His eyes were closed. His right hand held a tiny sharp blade which he scraped along a side of a thin though long slightly crooked branch.

He was about to break into a whistle of a distant melody when he suddenly heard three men treading very lightly at the edge of the field. They moved with purpose. They all wore cloth though one wore some metal armour. None carried swords, though another had a long wooden staff and another a short knife. From the sound they made, it was obvious that they took pains to conceal their presence. They had some skill in doing so too. Just not enough.

Though Double M heard the three men deliberately make their way to the tree, he made no effort to stir himself or open his eyes.

'Hail resting traveller!' called out the chocolate skinned man who wore singlet, dark green sarong and a light blue short sleeved shirt which lay open.

The little elusive smile that crept on to Double M's face at the greeting disappeared when he blinked his eyes open, like shadows in sunlight. He waved his right hand and returned the greeting. 'Where are you headed?' he asked.

'Over there,' he said as he pointed past the large tree into the forests in the distance.

'Ah, you still have some way to go then! Why don't you rest a bit?' said Double M breaking into a smile.

'Thank you for your kind offer traveler. I'm afraid we are on an urgent errand. Our quarry moves fast and so must we. Perhaps you could help us with our errand.'

'I'm always happy to help those in need, good sir! But in our haste, we must not forget our manners. Courtesy demands that we introduce ourselves first. I am Double M, traveller.'

A look of momentary surprise flashed on all three men's faces. To his right, the light yellow skinned man dressed in a simple deep scarlet shirt and pants slowly planted his tall wooden staff to the ground. To his left, the bald ebony skinned man swathed in white cloth to his left grew more still. The expression of the brown skinned man who stood in the middle gradually grew more blank.

'Greetings Double M. I apologise for my earlier lack of couth. I am Mat Pawer. To my right is Fu Yoh. To my left is Terror Lingam.' Both Fu Yoh and Terror Lingam bowed slightly at their introduction.

'Ah, the fearsome Technique of Three Heavens! I am honoured by your presence. Tell me, how can I help you fine gentlemen?'

'By your death, Double M,' replied Mat Pawer. 'Prepare yourself.'

At that, Double M's smile turned into a broad grin as he began to stand up.

The Foot Soldier (Reloaded)

When Qatar was young he wanted to be a soldier in King Urias' royal army. Those regal soldiers with their erect and firm bearing marching in their glistening shining armour and long swords in their intricately designed though much scarred scabbards he saw when he was four years old left a deep and smouldering passion for the military. Qatar, however, did not want to be just any ordinary foot soldier. And no, he did not want to be a specialist soldier either.
He felt his destiny when he was five. He knew that he wanted to be one of those robed and hooded men that had a soft, blue or green, gentle throbbing glow - a spellcaster. To Qatar, they did not just walk, they glided on a . Though they appeared frail or harmless, they wielded great power through their spellcasting and conjuring abilities. Often they made up the bulk of the King's personal platoon of elite combat troops.
But the army recruits spellcasters young, at the age of twelve. Natural spellcasters usually stumble upon their abilities earlier, as early as seven. If the army decides you are worthy and if you wish to pursue a career then you immediately join them. The most important requirement that the potential spellcaster should possess is magick intuition.
From that day he decided he would study spellcasters and learn as much as he could about magick. And so he did until his twelfth birthday when he presented himself at the Royal Academy of Magick Studies only to be turned away. He did not possess sufficient magick intuition. He was a good guesser and successful more often than not, but real spellcasters did not guess. Their intuition guided them through the intricacies of casting a spell with unerring accuracy. This was a necessary ingredient to powerful and higher plane spells. Those without intution would often lose their way amidst their casting. In more complicated spells, the consequences of failure was death or ending up a slave of demons. Qatar could cast a few spells because the less powerful the spell, the less precision was required.
Though he was bitterly disappointed, this did not put him off the army. When he was eighteen, Qatar enlisted in the army as a foot soldier. He had just completed his twelve month training when he heard that war had broken out between King Urias and some warrior king from a distant land. Apparently King Urias refused to have his little flat plained kingdom surrender to the unknown warrior. The battle was to take place at the southern plains of Whoonfey where he and other neighbouring kingdoms supplied their respective armies to fight off or defeat Tanoth there before he invaded their own kingdoms. The unit Qatar was in was one of the first sent out into the battlefield despite their lack of experience.
In the early morning on the day of battle before the sun had peeked over the horizon, Qatar was dressed in his full armour standing in line waiting for his turn to be blessed with physical ability enhancements and protective magical spells by the spellcasters in the highly raised platform before them. A crowd of murmurring spellcasters shimmered in their electric glow stood in a semi-circle, each within their own glowing glassy cocoon as different coloured bolts of lightning leaped from their hands and glow and into the soldiers below and cause the crowd to glow.
At the break of dawn, Qatar's unit marched on to the top of a gentle sloping ridge. On their march there they met many armies that joined them. It was a bright and early morning when the twelve regiment strong of the kingdoms' armies met Tanoth and his eight regiments at the Fields of Narah.
Qatar was at the head of his regiment so he had a view of the front. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He knew the horn would go soon because Tanoth's troops had already begun their charge up the gentle slope.
Then he heard it.

Right after that he heard the loud whisper of arrows whipped into the air. He saw some soldiers fall in the distance. Then suddenly he saw this fast moving abnormally large shape rushing through the army. Another whisper of arrows. More men fell, but the shape grew larger and larger in its relentless approach, ignoring the arrows as he easily deflected them.

Qatar heard the order to charge.
This was it. This was what he wanted was it not? His hands trembled as his legs did. Everybody around him shouted charge so he did too. But his skin began to crawl. His hair was on edge. This was death, he thought to himself. He blinked his eyes hard.
Everybody whipped out their swords. Automatically, he did too. Then they charged. The large shape now grew larger and larger as Qatar ran towards it and finally saw that it was a large man - more than eight feel tall on a huge powerful black horse that looked his equal.
He heard somebody cry, oh Lord Mala help us. It's Tanoth.
In his right outstretched arm was a large and long serrated sword. He glowed a deep maroon as he galloped towards them, the ground seemingly trembling at its hoof falls.
Tanoth quickly drew close to Qatar's unit. He raised his sword to strike.
Everybody around him were shouting and screaming. Qatar could not hear them. He was completely focused on Tanoth. This was it. He wanted so much to kill him. He wanted so much to unleash all the hurt, the shame and hatred he suffered as a result of his early disappointment on him. Maybe this time, for once he would be a a hero. For once he would be appreciated. People would look up to him for a change. Maybe then Yuna would think more favourably of him. Allow him to call on her at least. If only.
But the last thing Qatar ever saw were Tanoth's eyes; his pupils - which were a deep, dark, burning red, as was the colour of the white of his eyes.
Eyes which burned with rage and hatred.
And then his world fell into darkness.

(This story is related to the Final Battle.)

Conversation

You had wanted to speak with me, I gathered. And so we met again. Your pale whitish face almost had no emotion. You were almost a pale shadow of the self that I had known. But beneath those eyes I knew you were almost drowned in melancholy. You looked down when I was looking into your eyes. As if you could not bear the thought of being observed. As if you were afraid that your iris might tell me all of your secrets.

You came nearer to me. And you pulled my shoulder. You rested your head on it. And you began sobbing. I could feel the warmth of your tears slowly flowing down my neck. Your hands pulled my body towards you ever closer. Almost clutching me. Like you would never want to let me go. I put my hand around you. And I ran my fingers through your hair at the back of your head. We were like lovers. Long lost lovers who had suddenly met again. I could feel you. Felt all of your anxieties. Your pains. I thought I could see all your hopes, your wishes, your dreams. I walked through the valleys of your emotions, swam in the rivers of your fears, crawled on the sands of your desires. I knew you. I had known you for hundreds of years. And I realised I had lost you for quite a while.

You were trembling. Your hands gripped my back and I felt a sharp pain on my back. I felt something wet running down my spine. It was my blood!  Suddenly you shook me hard. You pushed me and  I saw your face. Your eyes were filled with thousands of bloodshot veins. Your hair had become unkempt. Flowing down your neck and shoulders. I looked at your hands. Your nails have become long and black.

With a voice that sounded like a growl of thousands of hungry wolves, you screamed, "I am going to take over.....I am going to take you over....."

Dream

Last night I saw you, in all your naked glory. You were standing there, in the corner, under the dim lamp. You looked content. Almost peaceful. But you were still. And you were silent.

It was when I was about to touch you that you turned and walked away. You stopped by the window and you turned around towards me. You looked intense. Almost angry. Your eyes looked deeply into mine, piercing through all my thoughts, deciphering them, translating them. Suddenly you had a knife in your hand.

You ran towards me. Pushed me to the floor. Sat on me and slashed me. I was bleeding all over. Numbed from all the pains. You dragged me up by my hair. Sat me down on the chair. With your knife at my throat, you forced me. To write this...

The Final Battle

The fire cackled and burst sending up little fireflies that barely managed to escape the flaming tongues that darted and flicked lasciviously. Five men sat cross legged around and stared at it. They sat on rattan mats made soft and smooth from prolonged wear.

'They said he can take down entire armies,' said the man in velvet blue robes, His face was hidden by the hood. Little slivers of electric occasionally emerged from one part of his body only to leap to an area nearby.

'They said he does not bleed,' said the man with dark brown leather armour. He had a bow on his back. His sword lay sleeping beside him. 'I know a man who saw the whole length of a sword plunged into his chest. He said Tanoth didn't even flinch. After he had killed the man who stabbed him, he pulled out the sword out with his right arm and went on fighting.'

'He is no man,' declared the oldest looking man amongst them. He was dressed in robes of liquid that gave the impression it was shifting about even as he sat unmoved. He turned slowly toward the young unassuming man dressed in almost plain brown clothes and spoke to him. '
'And that is why Greshen. You are our last hope.

Greshen kept on staring intensely into the fire.

'May I not fail all of you,' he finally said wearily.

'Are you sure Greshen is up to this? He is but a boy who has not seen battle,' asked the man dressed in light chain mail. "And Tanoth is a Lord of War. He has been in the thick of many great battles, if not single handedly brought them to an end himself.'

'What choice do we have Marlock? You have seen from afar how Tanoth has levelled whole armies in a day. If we save Greshen, are you his equal?'
Marlock turned his eyes away from the fire to the night, as if to cool them. The cackling seemed louder all of a sudden. A gentle breeze danced with the fire, swaying it this way and that.
'But neither is Greshen,' he said resigned.
'But the prophecies...' began the blue robed man before he was cut off.
'Damn the prophecies!' Marlock suddenly swore. 'Almost none of them came true. You see how we lost in Minath and Kilonth? You see how painfully and miserably we lost those cities? Nobody could imagine those cities falling to Tanoth. The only prophecy that came true was that of Tanoth.'
'Tanoth was the first of the prophecies,' retorted the old man.
'So it will be the only true one?'
'No, but perhaps Greshen's prophecy is the last and it too will be true.'
'Perhaps. Perhaps. I've had enough of your perhaps, Ti. I have...' raged Marlock before he was interrupted.
'Enough!' shouted the man with the leather armour. 'It is enough that Greshen has to face him tomorrow with our aid. Do we now need to ruin his spirit and ours the night before, Marlock? You think we do not think as you do Marlock? You do not think we have been so disappointed and let down by the failure of the prophecies? But what choice do we have? What other means do we have? Our armies are exhausted. There is no magic or weapon that we possess to defeat him. So do not blame Ti. He has helped guide Greshen this far. And though this is a great gamble. It is the only chance we have. The prophecies he may cling to may be wrong but his heart just like ours is true to our cause. If this be the only topic of conversation tonight, I suggest we all catch what little sleep we can. We leave at the first break of dawn.'

************************

The morning sun shone upon the battlefield that was littered with endless corpses and bloodied body parts that lay between the light green grass and shrubs. The five men gathered atop a little hill beside the battlefield. Below them three large regiments were marching into the battle field with their flags flapping excitedly in the strong wind that blew.
'Commander Ullok will lead the initial attack. We hope to weaken him somewhat or at best distract him before we commence our own attack. He will give the signal for us to attack.'
Greshen watched the three large regiments grew thinner and smaller until they finally looked like little bumps on the horizon. Moments later he heard a brassy horn being blown which indicated the battle had begun. Soon after, Ti directed the party to commence their descent and journey to the heart of the battle. As they got closer to the battle, Greshen could feel a warm sadness filling the air. The screams of sheer agony filled his ears. His feet splashed into puddles of blood. Then in the distance he saw swaths of men falling down just after a large sword flashed in the sun before descending to the crowd of screams and limbs.
Suddenly Greshen could hear his heart beating in his ear. His legs grew weaker and weaker the closer he got. The thin short dagger at his side grew cumbersome and almost loathsome. He tripped over a cleanly severed arm and stained his brown clothes with blood.
He felt a soft touch on his right shoulder.
'Are you ready Greshen?' asked Ti gently.
'I don't know if I'll ever be,' replied Greshen.
'You will truly ever know when it is over.'
'Perhaps it is best that way.'
Then a low mournful horn blew.
'It is time,' said Ti.
The mob of soldiers in front of them slowly parted until Greshen could have a clear uninterrupted line of sight to Tanoth. His other four companions stood beside him on both sides, their weapons drawn and with their murmurs afoot to cast the defensive and offensive magick. Tanoth was tall and large even at a distance. When he disposed of the soliders before him, he saw Greshen and they locked eyes. Tanoth was a massive eight and half feet tall clad in what looked like enchanted leather armour. His black and damp shoulder length hair clung to his deep red face. He had red eye pupils that trembled with rage and hatred.
He lifted his massive serrated sword and pointed it at Greshen, his arm perfectly straight, without effort.
Greshen could now feel his heart beating wildly as his chest swelled. He felt a small bead of perspiration slide down the right side of his face. His eyes suddenly stung and he wanted to cry. He was paralyzed with fear.
It was then that Greshen very carefully drew his dagger.

Other Thoughts On Love

Those who believe that love at its first flush is representative of love for all time are in for disappointment, said the heavily wrinkled face beneath a cap of brilliant white hair.

Deep disappointment, he added as if his earlier words did not sufficiently impress its depth and ended with a sigh. He looks down at the various shades of pigeons; some stalked about purposefully on the ground, some of them look at him expectantly. He flicks some seeds on to the ground and the volume of cooing immediately swells and there is a rush of feather.

Love in her seduction of us, lures us with her best colours at first. Then teaches us her harder more painful lessons. We learn of her harshness, her single mindedness, her conquest, her encumbrances, her obstacles. Because Love is not easy, he said. You have to work for her. You must be able to offer her reasons when she requires them. There is no respite in your duty to her. There is nothing you can offer in substitute. Blood and tears are the only currency with Love.

The cool twilight wind that blew through the park ruffled his hair with a lover’s careless caress.
Blood and tears, you understand, he says.

And Love’s fickleness and betrayal. I am familiar with those equally influential advisers of hers. She may take you down so deep and mazy a corridor and then leave you there. Alone. And without her grace. She can be cruel like that, he said. But she does that to help us to live without her as we do with her.

The hint of sun was quickly fading. The night drawing back the day, stripping the night of all its deepening and now more vivid colours.

But I never hated her, he thought to himself.

The pigeons have gone. The breeze has stopped.

Never, he said breaking the stillness of the night.

Sleep Over

Mat was at Ayob’s place tonight.
Mat scored the PS2. Ayob scored the weed.
Mat earlier bought a few sports games to play from their usual pirated software store nearby. Ayob was looking forward to play the games stoned and high as much as Mat.
Ayob hoped Lok scored the better stuff this time.
They played, laughed their asses off and smoked up all night.
Deep into the night.
The weed was moist, potent and calming.
When Ayob opened his eyes, he saw Mat’s arm lying on his bare chest.
Mat too was shirtless.
They were on his bed.
Ayob lay where he was and waited.

Decisions

They are face to face. He cannot read her face. It's inscrutable.
She is beautiful. He has not seen any one so hypnotic as her. Even when she's upset.
But this time he did not notice her beauty. All he wanted was to know.
After a long silence, she gives her head a short quick shake.
Despite his calm exterior his heart was beating wildly. He forced himself to control his breathing so as not to surrender to his lack of control.
It's going to be okay baby, he said and reached his outstretched right arm to her across the cheap plastic red table, as if in offering.
No, it's not okay, she said a matter of factly.
Come on baby. Hold my hand please, he cooed to her.
Please baby.

Twitch

Sometimes, sometimes, I get those muscle twitches you know. It's not dramatic or anything. I don't flail about and foam at the mouth. None of that stuff. I just feel it right there on my forearm for example. See, I can see the skin, just there, ha, ha, that area trembling ever so slightly there. I can only imagine the threshing and twitching of the sinewy rope of muscles along my forearm. I get that once in a very long while. Not that often. It's not a common thing. Now and then kind of thing. This time it was my forearm. The other time it was my thigh. I wonder why it does that. Not sure whether I felt it around my right shoulder the other day. Maybe I was tired. It's as if that part of my body took a breather on behalf of the rest of the muscles in the body and chose to do so at that convenient and optimal spot. I mean it does not impede with the more important areas. I mean I don't get the twitchy feeling on my ass, or head, or, or my internal organs like my heart for example. So that's a good thing, I suppose. I should be happier, I guess. We must be thankful for little mercies because uh I don't know what large or big mercies are. Uhm thankful for little mercies because because nothing's free these days. Na, ah. No sir-ree. Not that it matters. I'll take those any day because, because no, this is isn't happening, please, no, I, twitch

Road Works

We were very happy when the Public Works Department decided to repair the main road that led to our kampung. It was a withered stretch of road frequently used by lorries, massive trailers carrying construction vehicles and tractors and many cars because one could avoid the North-South Highway without much penalty in terms of distance, time or cost. Some used it to bypass the North-South Highway when traffic got too heavy and when there was jam at the tolls. Some used it to save cost, especially the lorries and the trailers. And because there were still kampung houses on both sides of the road, it was not uncommon to see old men or young student girls riding bicycles on them sometiems even beneath the blazing afternoon sun.

Early Monday morning, a team of constructions workers cordoned off a stretch of one side of the road with an unbroken line of orange traffic cones with a white stripe that ringed the top part of the cone. They spent the day digging up the surface of the road, exposing the concrete foundation beneath, until the day grew dark. When night fell they tarred and steam rolled the road completing one side of the road.

Early the next day, they proceeded do the precisely the same thing they did the day before but for the other side of the road.

On Wednesday, both sides of the road were complete. The road looked so new, its black was almost lustrous like the deepest and darkest night made luminous by the fullness of the moon. The cars, lorries, motorcycles and bicycles looked almost happy to be treading the freshly tarred road. Next to the road was a white wooden board which read: 'Satu lagi projek pembangunan di bawah kerajaan Barisan Nasional bagi manfaat rakyat.' Though the day was bright and hot, there was a torrential downpour in the evening that lasted until the wee hours of

Thursday morning which saw the sides of the road starting to fray. Bits of loose tar had managed to break free and were stumbling their way down the sides. Some areas of the road had little indentations which made the rides more bumpy.

In the late morning of Friday, another team of constructions workers arrived at the stretch of road. They looked quite different from the ones that came on Monday and Tuesday. Nobody seemed to know quite who they were, but they brought many pipes. They started to dig up about 200 meters of one side of the road. After they had completed their trenching which was carried out in the middle, they proceeded to lay the pipes into the trench. They worked late into the night and until the early hours of the morning to re-tar the road they had dug up.

On Saturday morning, it was clear that the night had perhaps impeded their ability to resurface the road properly. A large keloid ran along the part of the road they had dug up. The passengers in the cars who went over the dug up portion of the road fast could be seen to be bouncing in their seats. The lorries and trailers rumbled more noisily and clumsily too. By the evening, one could see shallow holes appearing on both sides of the stretch of road.

It rained on Sunday morning which lasted until late in the afternoon. The holes that were shallow the night before grew deeper and fiercer with its jagged and crumbling edges. Its depths could not be told with the brown water filling them. The fraying edges of the road now reached a stage of deterioration where the sides now dipped at a severe angle. Vehicles now had to avoid certain portions of the road and hit the dirt shoulder tracks at the side.

When I went out to look at the road the next day, it looked not very different than how it did the week before. Only the tar looked a little darker than it did previously.

Road Block

Inspector Kareem stored the last of the orange traffic cones into the back of the pick-up truck which was entirely a deep pensive blue except for the white coloured insignia of the RMPF which sat squarely in the middle of the door on both sides.

Man (pronounced 'Ma'-n), he called out to his partner, Inspector Azmanin. What's the time?
It's seven sixteen, replied Man. How did we do?
Kareem turned to Man and gave him a broad smile. He made the 'good' sign with his right hand for emphasis.
Haha! That's good. Number Three will be happy. It should more than cover dinner, said Man then continued excitedly, which means we have extra left over for after dinner! So how much did we score?
About eighteen thousand.
Wow. That was pretty fast for four hours.
One of the best. It's like real estate. Location, location, location.
They both got in the car. Kareem took the wheel.
So where's dinner supposed to be anyway? asked Kareem as he started the car and pulled it away from the curb.
We're going to some fancy Thai restaurant in Puchong. I forgot the name of it. But I think I know where it is, replied Man. There's a pretty good karaoke joint in that area also. With this kind of haul, we'll sure go after dinner.
Just then a loud searing guitar riff tore through the car.
Your volume is so loud! shouted Kareem over the high wall of sound.
Man silenced it with a press and lifted the phone to his ear.
Dato'. We are on the way. Yes. We did quite well tonight. We... we. Eighteen. Thank you, Dato'. Thank you but it was a team effort Dato'. Yes. I know the way there. Yes, I do. Oh, of course Dato'. Yes, I have the number. Don't worry. I will sort it out, said Man finally before he put away his phone in the compartment in the dashboard of his car.
That was Number Three. I'm making the booking for the karaoke! Told you that would happen, said Man proudly.
One thing good about this Number Three is he is more generous. Especially compared to the last one. At least this one shares with all of us. Don't eat all for himself, Kareem replied.
Yup. Guess we're lucky for now, said Man.

Not the Usual Date: Bargains (Part Six)

The lock up. Badly lit. Buzzing. Flickering. Fluroscent light. Hanging from the ceiling. There's a table. A man. Tied to a chair. A black eye. Bleeding from the mouth. Nose. Head. Seven police officers. Two standing on either side of him. The one with knuckle dusters is standing in front of him. Both hands lowered. Though one had a sheen at the edge of his knuckles in the silhouette. Another stood over a bucket of water. Another two stood by the door next on either side of us, near the door. One more stood by the table at attention, eyes fixed on the seated man. The place stank. Of Fear. Hate. Tears. Blood. Piss. Shit. Spunk.

Behind the man in the chair, a cell sat shrouded in darkness. Except for a few dark coloured shafts reaching out of the darkness. You would have missed it.
Nadia lets out a sharp soft gasp when we step in. Not sure at the sight. Or the smell. Both perhaps.
'Who the hell is that?' shouts Knuckleduster. He cannot see us. Wrapped in darkness.
Our good man salutes. 'Tuan, these are Tan Sri Kamil Aris' lawyers. They were sent here to pick up his nephew who was one of those rounded up at the Masjid just now.'
Knuckleduster turns around.
'Tan Sri's lawyers, eh? Come forward so I can see you. What's your name?'
Stepping into the light. As soon as he sees me.
He smiles.
'Ah. If it isn't the great Zachary Kamaludin.'
Cannot help. But smile. Back.
'Good evening, Dato' Lee. You are very kind to take the trouble to remember me. '
'You are also very kind to call me Dato' even though I don't have one. But I have to say, Encik Zachary, you are quite rude. You have not introduced me to your companion.' Must. Becareful. With this one.
'I do apologize. Nadia, please meet Dato' Lee. Dato', this is Nadia.'
Nadia. A hint of nervousness. at the edge. Of her smiles.
Felt her hand. Suddenly grasping mine. A little harder. Did not even notice it. To be honest.
'Good evening my dear. What brings you down here with Encik Zachary?' he asks. As charmingly as one could be in a singlet drenched with sweat and fine blood splatters on his shirt, and one hand cased in a bloody knuckleduster.
'To be with him,' she said. Slightly shrugging at me.
Could feel his. Disappointment. Slight. Drop of his shoulders. His face. Hardening.
Damn. May backfire.
Turns to me.
'Tan Sri must have serious cash to burn seeing that he got you. And that you got this far. Who are you here for?'
'Saiful Azman.'
He turns around. Asks loudly. At the man by the table. Thin man. Dark. With a crater face. Thin slit eyes. He turned away. To look. What looked like a handwritten notes. In a long rectangular book. He nods.
'Looks like he is here,' he says. 'But he is wanted for questioning. We haven't even begun with him yet.'
'Ah. That is precisely what I'm here to ... assist you with. As he is my client, let me assure you of his cooperation. I can give you my mobile number. Whenever you want to meet him. Call me. Or we can arrange something more convenient.'
He pauses for a while.
'Everybody out, he said. Loud enough. Everybody shuffled out of the room.
Last shuffle. Disappears. With the closed door.
It's just three of us. But Nadia gets more nervous. Her hand. Cold and clammy. He tries hard. Not to look at her. He jerks his head. Up slightly. What about her?
'She's cool. Nothing leaves this room, except him and us.'
He pauses. He can. Live with it.
'Convenience is expensive.' He says. Cannot argue with fact.
'Who said it was free?' His face brightens. Somewhat.
Continue: 'Everything always costs something, no?'
A smile creeps. Into his face.
'I'm glad we understand each other.'
'What's the cost of convenience these days?'
'For something like this. I'm not sure. Perhaps ten large.'
''Then he's off records?'
'That's extra.'
'What isn't?'
'Nothing.'
'Off records?'
'Fifteen.'
Fuck. I don't have fifteen. Large. Right now.
And with them. It's always cash.
'How about thirteen?'
'You want three for the price of two? Come on, Mr. Zachary. What's a hot shot like yourself bothering yourself haggling over a few cents? I'm sure that sum is not even ten percent of your usual retainer.'
'Sometimes what others see is not what is real. Tell you what. Let's make it ten and I'll do a case for you. Any case you want - yours or anybody else's. But just one. I'm not making anything out of this. I'm here as a favour tonight.'
'How can I trust that you will honour your promise?'
'Dato' Lee, my word is my bond. You can just about ask anybody. I don't often make promises because those that I make I keep. And I'm offering you a promise. I can assure you that my promise is going to be worth a great deal more than fifteen.'
He turns away and walks deliberately and slowly. A wide circular arc. Eyes steadily on the floor. His mind grinding. Suddenly, he stops. Turns to me.
'You have it now?'
'I've got about two now. I need to get the rest later.'
'I want it all. Now.'
Fuck. Fuck.
'Tomorrow morning. First thing. Or you tell me when and where. '
'Encik Zachary, you're making this very hard for me. If you take him now, I have nothing to hold you to.' Dammit. Instinctively, turn to my watch. It was very late. Wait. It's a Rolex. Bingo.
'Tell you what. I'll give you my watch to hold to show my sincerity. My grandfather gave it to me.' He comes forward. Unclasp the strap. Hold it up for him.
'It's real.' I tell him.
He smiles back. 'I would be disappointed if it was not.'
'And you're not keeping it because I want it back. You hold it until tomorrow. I pass you the balance, you return the watch.'
He is pensive. His right hand. Drifts to his chin. To stroke it.
'I'm going to go out on a limb here. You better not be full of shit Mr. Zachary.'
'Dato' Lee, I'm a lawyer. I'm full of shit. But sometimes my shit is gold. You're getting your gold tomorrow. My word. Now where and when?'
'Give me your mobile and I'll tell you tomorrow.'
Tell him. My number.
He turns to Nadia again. Glares. At her. In warning.
Then slowly. Walks past. The man in the chair. Unconscious. Blood still drips. From his wrist.

To the cells in the dim darkness. Jangling keys. Sound of metal brushing. Clank. The door groans its reluctance. Soon. Saiful's in front of me. Just a few bruises. Only. He hasn't been interrogated. Fully. Yet.
'So this is the Tan Sri's nephew. How did he get mixed up in this?'
'Oh you know, Dato'. Idealism of youth and all that crap.'
He grunts. In acknowledgment, as he walks to the door. Opens it. Barks. The men file back into the room behind him. Including our guide to the lockups. Dato' Lee orders him. To lead us to the service entrance. Behind the police station.
Saiful's quiet. Eyes on floor. Compliant. Tell him. Stay close. Don't speak.
We're led out. Several corridors. The buzz of the crowd. Faint. Like Mist.
Once at the back, our guide says, 'Dato' Lee has arranged for the squad car with tinted windows to take you out. Please tell the driver where you want to go.'
We thank him. Nadia. So happy to get out. Throws in. Kiss. On his cheek. Even as. Her hand. Firmly in mine.
He's on. Cloud nine.

It's three. In the morning.
It's Kajang. Far from the station. Dirty air. Bloodied floor. Official sleaze.
We're in. Wan's stretched limo.
The air. Reeks of ganja.
Wan. Ida. Clothes. Unkempt.
She's snuggled up. Content. Against him.
Saiful. In a corner. Nadia. Sits. Next to me.
'You're fucking amazing man. Only you can pull of shit like that man,' Wan says. Again. He has repeated this. Four times already. Last ten minutes.
Nadia's still. Pumped. From the adrenaline.
'He was amazing!' Nadia chimed in.
'Nothing amazing about it. I still gotta get ten large over to him tomorrow morning for that shit. And I don't think I could have done it without Nadia. If it were not for her dishing out her phone numbers, we would not have gotten past the gate.'
She smiles. And leans. Lightly. On me. Nice. Nice. Nice.
'Oh my fucking god! You gave out your numbers?!' ejaculated Wan. Outraged almost.

'Nolah. I just made up those numbers.' Rather pleased. With herself. But Zack, the way you carried yourself and spoke with such conviction and confidence was just amazing. I thought we'd never make it out of there alive!'
'That's what lawyers do, my dear. Bullshit something out of nothing.'
'See Nadia, that's why I hang with Zack. That way I can get away with anything. Like this.' And he takes a long drag. On the joint. 'So what's next?'

We. Make it back. To the house. By about four.
Saiful mumbles his thanks. Salams us. But not the Nadia or Ida. Opens the door.
Cool fresh air. Rushes in. Ganja smoke escape.
Get out. Breathe. Nadia steps out. Too.
'Finally. Some fresh air.' I stretch. My arms up.
'Yes,' she says. As she rests her back. On the car. 'Are you staying over?'
'I think I'm going to have to.'
Suddenly, Saiful's next to us. Didn't notice him.
'Mama nak cakap ngan Zack,' he says. Waits for me to acknowledge. Then leaves.
'Well, there you go. Right on cue.' We both laugh. 'Anyway, I want to thank you for your help this evening and apologize for ruining the evening.'
'Oh no! I had a wonderful time this evening and it is I who should thank you.'
'You’re thanking me? For what? For disrupting dinner? For barely getting you out of crowd that seemed bent on molesting you? For taking you to a police station where just about every guy practically undressed you with their eyes? Or for …’
She stops me. With her eyes. Light brown.
My heart. Triphammers.
‘For taking me along… and opening my eyes. You were brilliant. ’
I was? Witty reply. Witty reply. Think of something clever. Quick.
‘I… uh… thanks?’ Stupid. Stupid bastard. She smiles.
'So… I guess this is good night, then.’
'But not good bye, I hope.' Good save. Good save.
We stand. Just looking at each other.
I want to. Touch. Hold. Hug. Feel. Kiss. Smell. You. You.
‘I was…’ ‘Do you…’
Laughter. Nervous. Charged.
‘You go ahead.’
‘No please, you.’
‘Ladies, first.’
‘Okay. I hope I’m not too forward if I ask for your number. I would really like to meet up again. Without, you know, the drama.’
Wow. Forthright. Open. Ballsy.
Miss Malaysia asked for my number. Un-fucking believable.
I smile.
‘You know, I was going to ask you for your number but with all those guys asking for your numbers all night, I figured you’ve heard that question enough tonight.’
She laughs.
‘Oh Zack. You're so silly. You're the only one I've been dying to give my number too tonight.'
Thumpa. Thumpa. Pull out pen. Write numbers. On my hand.
'Say, these aren't the same numbers you gave those guys are they?' Teasingly.
'Why don’t you give it a try and find out?’
'Guess, I’ll have to do that because I plan on asking you out for a date. So this number better work!'
'I’ll be looking forward to it.' She smiles. Sparkle me silly.
'I'll shall endeavour to leave the drama out of it next time.'
'You need not do so on my account. I enjoyed myself immensely this evening.'
We stand. Smiling at each other.
'I know I'm supposed to say good bye, but I can't quiet bring myself to at the moment.'
'Me too,' she concurs.
'What should we do then?'
'I think we need a nice ending for tonight. Something we can both take home and savour.'
I'm just loving her already.
'I think you're right.'
Move in close. Lower and cock my head.
Press my lips to hers.
She does not resist.
Perfect.

Not the Usual Date: At the Police Station (Part Five)

Hot. Sweaty. Smelly. Bodies. Crushing. Pushing. Shoving. Shouting. Pounding. Shuffling. Children crying. Wives pleading. Lawyers demanding. Policemen barking. Bearded men. Turbaned men. Men in Jubah. Some shouting, 'Allahuakhbar.' Reporters asking. Photographers shooting.
And a stunningly beautiful girl is clinging to my arm for her beautiful life. Feel her soft warm body. Pressed against mine. Nice. We slice through the crowd. Resistance. Bumps. Pushing. Shoving. Slow. Sometimes she lets out a cry. Somebody pinches her. She’s fondled. Can’t see who. Suddenly. Feel. Pressure of her breasts. On my arm. Freaking arm. What a date.We reach the police station gate. 10 minutes. Later. After a lot of. Pushing. Shoving. Cursing.
About my mother; leave her out of this. Swearing. Pushing. Shoving. Until we are finally right in front of the gate. Doing. All I can. Keep the crowd. Mowing us. Down. Down. To the ground. We're pressed against the gate. Nobody giving an inch. Nobody asking. There. Behind the gate. Two young policemen man. Stand around. Ignoring everybody. Not giving a flying fuck. About anybody. Not you. Not me. To them. We could crush each other to death. For all they care. Get their heads. This way.
'Tuan,' I bellow. Soars above the din. Slightly startled. They turn. My way. Walk. This way.
'Apa masalah, Encik?' one asks. Short. Michelin Man. Joined the force. Dirty. Dirty face. Sly, darting eyes. Roaming. Soaring. Fantasizing. On Nadia. Her body. Her solid. Body. I can see. The possibilities erupting in his tiny mind.
'Saya kena masuk,’ I tell him.
'Apa urusan tuan?'
'Saya hendak jumpa adik saya yang kena tahan.'
'Sorry, sir. We’ve cannot not to allow any person into the police station,’ steps in the one next to Michelin Man. Taller. Thinner. Equally. Sleazy. Looking.
'Why?'
'I don't know. Those are our order.'
Nadia. Steps up. Heart stopping. And wishing. Eye demanding. Watch those. Heads and heels. Look of distress.
'Please, sir. We need to really see our brother. Our mother is very worried about him. I would be grateful if you could let us both in,' she says. As breathlessly. As she can. Big doe eyes. Melt your heart. Did mine. Probably gave them boners. At least.
Both of them look at her. Up. Down.
She's cool.
'Okay then. Only you.'
Fuckers.
'Oh thank you, sir but I don't know my brother very well. He's my step brother. This brother of mine, Zack, he knows him much better. So it's important that he comes along as well. Please?'
Pour it in a cup and serve it for tea.
They talk it over. Slight disagreement. They're back.
'What else?' Okay. They're talking cash.
'Four hundred.'
I nod.
Clank.
A crack in the gate. Suddenly. The ocean of people. Stirring. Moving. Pushing. Shoving. Shouting.
Screaming. Groping. Becomes a blur. Then. We are in. Both of us are in. Nadia. Glued to me. The crowd quickly becomes more restless and agitated. The shouting is louder. The crying stronger. The children's crying more high pitched.
We go off to the side. I handshake them. The money. But they want. Her mobile number as well. She smiles. Flings. Some numbers at him.
‘I give you miss call, okay?’ says the thin one. Beaming. Like he. Won a million bucks.
‘I don’t have it with me now but I’ll check it when I get back.’
They're happy.
We're happy.
Way the world should be.
Damn. This chick. Fucking rocks.
Is it alright to fall for her right now?
They point us to the direction of the lock ups.
We walk.
'Oh man. I feel so dirty.'
'Thanks a lot for that Nadia.’
'Oh. It’s alright. I thought you needed a little help there,’ she says with a wink. With a wink. And then happily continues, ‘But they're so… so… sleazy and corrupt. It’s so disgusting.’
‘It gets worse. This is just the tip of the iceberg. This is the action. If you want to get out of here, now is actually a very good time.’
She’d be crazy. To want in.
She looks at me. Then smiles. A mischievous smile.
‘Would you think me crazy if I said yes?’
No way.
‘Fucking crazy.’
Her smile. Glows. With a sense of glee.
Be still my rapidly beating heart.
‘Then sign me up. Take me everywhere with you.’

We enter the building. It's quiet. One guard. Only. At the desk.
‘Hey, you two! How did you get in?’
His attention directed. Totally at Nadia. Even. As he talks. To me.
‘The guards at the gate let us in.’
'Oh? That's alright then. What are you looking for?'
His eyes. Cannot get. Enough of Nadia.
'For the prisoners that just got brought in.'
'Oh. Those guys. They're in the lock ups.'
'Which way is it?'
‘Uh... wait. Who are the two of you?’
‘We're lawyers for Tan Sri Kamil Aris.’
He takes it in.
‘The Defence Minister?’
‘Yes.’
'Oh! Why are you here?'
'See, one of the men you have arrested is his nephew. A troublesome piece of shit. He always gets into trouble. And when he does, Tan Sri, then sends me to come, you know, hush-hush and pick him up and take him home. He doesn't want the reporters out there to pick this up. I mean, it looks pretty bad, right?'
'Yah. True also.'
'So, if you can just show me the way to lock ups.'
'I see. If that's the case, can you just please sign your names here and then I'll take you there.'
'Ah. I would love to, tuan. The problem with signing our names is that it shows that we've been here. If anybody does an investigation they'll find out that we were here. This will lead back to Tan Sri. Remember what I said about being quiet? That means untraceable. There must be no record that we were here.'
'Ah. Okay. Okay. I understand.'
Peel off three hundred.
‘Tan Sri also reminded us to reward anybody who helps us out. So, since Raya is coming up soon
here's just a little something to help you along.’
Handshake. He throws in. A smile for. Nothing extra.
Down the stairs. Down. We go.
Suddenly. The officer turns around.
Looks at Nadia. Again.
'You look very familiar?'
'Me?' she asks. Don't panic. Don't panic.
'Yeah... are you some singer or actress?'
'Oh... no. People say I look like Zhang Zi Yi.'
Walks.
'Hmmm... You are very pretty, you know? You can be a model?' Keep cool. Nadia. Keep cool.
Giggles. 'Oh, you are too kind, sir! Tuan, also can model since you are so good looking.' Grateful. She’s innocent looking. Sexy. Flirty. All at once.
She's good.
He's happy. Can see the smile from his ears. Little perk in his ass. When he walks. Now. Can’t believe. He’s buying this shit.
‘Nahlah... I'm not that good looking.’ Fishing! The cad!
'Oh, don't say that, Tuan. I'm sure all the policewomen here are crazy about you.'
'You're just saying that-lah.' He's still smiling.
'We're here. I'll go in first to explain.

Not the Usual Date: The Ride There (Part Four)

Step in. They. Haven’t eaten.
Sit down.
‘Ladies. Wan. I must apologise. I have to go.’
‘What’s up, man?’

‘Sai just got arrested at some mosque in Kajang. His fiancée doesn’t know what’s going on. I gotta find out where they’re taking him and what the hell he’s been arrested for.’

‘'Outstanding.'
He's pissed off.
Shake Ida's hand. Cool. Soft.
'Ida. It was very nice to meet you.'
Turn to. Nadia.
'Nadia ...'
'Zack, I know this might sound weird.' Huh? 'But I was wondering if I could follow you.'
Kidding me. 'Uh... really?'
'Really. I would love to see the great criminal lawyer in action.'
'Nadia?!' Surprised. Or annoyed.
'But, uh... don't you want to finish your dinner? It's really good.' God, that was so so lame.
'I can always come here if I really wanted. It's not every night I would get to see you in action.'
That's true. But honey, you could every night!
Adventurous. To boot. Be still. My drug-fueled heart.
'But, it's not as action packed as those TV sitcoms. It's pretty boring really.'
'Nadia! What about me?'

'Oh Ida, Wan can keep you company here. And anyway, I'm not expecting a Bruckheimer movie. I can go to the movies for that too.'
Insistent. Okay. Gotta move.
'Wan. Can you stay with Ida?'
'Yeah, sure. But, uh.'
Great. What now?
'You sure you don't need my help?'
Huh?
'I wouldn't know. Can you? Quickly, Wan! Time's of the essence.'
'Ida, I really want to stay here with you but as sublime and intoxicating as you are, the thought of my best buddy running around looking for his brother... even though I don't really like that piece of shit... I don't...'
Ida. Disappointed. Big time.
'Wan, let me talk to her for a second.'
'Nadia. I don't mean to push, but we gotta go in 2 minutes.'
'Okay.' Step away.
'Wan, pass me your phone. I'm gonna need it for the next few hours, is...'
'It's yours.'
'Thanks.' Dial. Rahim. 'Rahim?'
'Who's this?'
'Zack.'
'Oh. Encik Zachary, good evening.'
'Rahim. Where are you?'
'I'm... uh, having dinner at the moment. At... the office.'
'I've got a favour to ask.'
'Ask away, Encik Zachary.'
'My brother's been arrested. He was arrested about 10 minutes ago at a mosque somewhere in Kajang. I need you to check what went down there?'
'Okay. I'm on it. I'll call you back once I find something.'
Click.
'Are those girls ready?'
'Okay, let's go.' Nadia.
'Wait. Who's us?'
'All of us. Ida's coming as well.'
Great. Just great.
We're walking.
'Okay, Wan, get somebody to call us a cab.'
Wan. Throws card. Credit. 'Bill, please. As fast as you can.'
Signs chit.
'A cab? The hell for? We got a great comfy limo waiting on us outside!'
'It's too flashy.'
'Dude, what are we gonna do with the limo for the rest of the night?'
'I don't know. Get rid of him!'
'Hell no! If you call a cab you gotta wait some more. Let's just roll.'
Oh no. This. Disasterous.
Gotta move.
'Fine. I can't wait anymore.'
Limo. Stretched. Tearing through KL.
Destination: Kajang.
MTV blasting. But.
Everybody. Pensive.
Wan. Talk to. Ida. Trying.
Nadia. Staring out.
Me. On the phone.
'Evening Inspector. Zachary Hamid, here.'
'Ah... evening Encik Zachary. How are we this evening?'
'Not good.'
'Oh, sorry to hear that. What's the problem?'
'My brother's just been arrested at a mosque somewhere in Kajang about 20 minutes ago. Would you happen to know what happened there?'

'Kajang. Hmmm... I do remember something about some disturbances at a mosque in Kajang. I'll have to call you back.'
'Inspector. I'm always obliged.'
Click. Dialing. Terrence. Reporter. The Star. Crime beat.
'Oi!'
'Ey, man. What's up?'
'Where are you?'
'Office.'
'Great. Need a favour.'
'What's up?'
'Do you know whether there's been anything reported or not reported about some disturbances at a mosque somewhere in Kajang?'
'Not sure-lah. Can check. How soon?'
'Very soon. My brother's just been arrested.'
'Okay.'
Click.
Now. Just wait.
Hate this part.
Slide. Closer. To Her.
Nadia.
'I hope you're not bored out of your wits already.'
Turns. Smiles. Look forced.
'No. It's interesting to see how you work.'
'It's nothing much... just working the phones until I know where to find him. But I've called everybody I have to call. It's just a matter of waiting now.'
'Do people always do what you tell them to do?'
Never.
If they did. World would be beautiful.
'I'm afraid not.'
'Could have fooled me.'
Pause.
'What made you decide to become a lawyer?'
Good one. Used to. Have an answer. Good one. Too.
Don't know. Anymore.
Tell her the truth.
'I used to know the answer to that question. These days I'm not so sure.'
Surprised.
'Why?'
'Why? Laugh. Slight bitterness. 'Maybe, I'm just tired. Tired of seeing the ugliness, petiness, stubborness, unreasonableness of people. I'm sick of being thrown in the path of mad, rabid pitbulls and asked to sort it out, as cheaply and quickly as possible. I'm sick of having to appear before judges too stupid to find their own asshole even if you gave them a map, directions and a GPS system. I'm angry that all my ideals, my dreams, and hopes have been trampled on, raped, and ignored. I'm furious that the law is not about justice, fairness or equality, or even truth.'
She stares. Stunned.
'Shocking, eh? I have no doubt that you're asking yourself: why is this guy whose entire life revolves around the law sound as if he's one thought away from leaving practise? It's a valid question, I suppose. Very valid. I mean, if that were your question. But it's not. Your question was: Why don't I know why I decided to become a lawyer? Right?'
She nods. Stunned. Still.
Can see her still trying to digest this.
'Because everything I believed in about the law, about people about goodness and badness, about truth, about life, is a lie. It's all a fucking lie. Pardon, my french.'
No laughs there.
'People are not nice. Truth is not nice. Being good is not nice. People are selfish, petty, irresponsible and vengeful creatures. Truth is whatever you want it to be, or convince yourself it is. Being good? Hmph. There is no good. There is no bad. It's just people doing what they want to do. That's why. Does that answer your question?'
She's look at me. Wan and Ida. Both looking at me.
Wan's phone rings.
'Hello?'
'Encik Zachary, please?'
'Rahim, what did you get me?'
'Sir, I found out that there was a demonstration at a mosque in Kajang.'

'Why was there a demo?'

'From what I understand, the government wants to demolish that mosque and build a newer bigger one about 20 kilometers away.'
'So?'
'So, the mosque that is slated for demolition is in a PAS stronghold. The new one's in an UMNO area.'
'Fuck. Politics. What else do you know?'
'That's pretty much it. The people in that area were protesting the demolition and the police must have clamped down on them.'
'Do you know whether this was regular or SB?'
'Sorry, sir. I don't know.'
'Okay, we're on our way to the Kajang police station. Get there.'
'Yes, sir.'
Click.
'Who was that?' asks Nadia.
'Rahim. My sidekick. I'm Batman. He's Robin.'
She smiles. Faint.
'So what's going on?'
'Usual government oppression. My brother was protesting the demolition of a mosque in PAS territory. Police arrested them.'
'Oh, no.' She seems. Genuinely concerned.
'Oh, yes. Now it's political. This makes things even trickier.'
'What are you gonna do?'
'Get my brother out of whichever jail he's being locked up for.'
'Is it that easy?'
'The first lesson you learn in the practise of law, Nadia, is that nothing is easy.'

10 pm.
Kajang police station.
There's a crowd outside the police compound. Bingo. Wives. Children. Uncles. Aunties. Cousins. Friends. NGO's. Plainclothes policemen. Lawyers. Press. It's a fucking circus. When we pull up in the stretched limo, it becomes a full blown carnival. Only thing missing is the goddamned Miss Malaysia. And that's because she's in the car.
'Shit. It's madness out there. Nadia, I don't think you should go out. You might just get lost or more likely, molested, out there.'
'I appreciate the warning but I want to go. I'm not wasting my time sitting in the car when all the action is out there.'
Shit. This chick is psyched.
You want action? You'll get action.
'Fine. Have it your way. Wan, how much cash do you have on you?'
'Uh... about four grand.'
Ida and Nadia. Listen. In disbelief.
I have only. Four hundred ringgit.
'Hand it over.'
Now they watch in disbelief.
Wan hands over. Money clip straining. With cash.
'You comin'?'
'Nah. I'll be a liability. You go ahead.'
'Alright. Nadia. Stay very close.'
Door opens.

Not the Usual Date: Dinner and Then Some (Part 3)

8:35 pm.
La Fite.
Décor. Sobre. Staid wooden floor. Soft Curtains hanging.
Full house. Pin Drop.
Hushed whispers. Sweet nothings. Expensive nothings.
Our table. In a discreet corner.
Butt on seats. Drinks in hand. Pre-appetizers smoked.
No Models.

“What time did you tell them dinner was again?”
“8:30.”
“They’re late.”
“They’re models. They’re late.”
“I forgot they’re a special breed.”
“Don’t you dare start.”
Staring at nothing. Just ahead.
Then.
Boom! Like a supersonic jet.
Gliding. Through the room.
Head turners. Heart breakers. Boner Muses.
Beauty. Not just a pleasure to see. A privilege to behold.
Walking towards. Us.

“Hey Wan! This is my friend, Nadia.”
“Hi.”
We stand.
“Uh, yeah, and this is my bud, Zachary. You ladies can call him anything you like, but he prefers ‘Zack.’”
Giggles.
“Zack.” Nod. “Ida. Zack.” “And Nadia.” Nod. “Zack. Nadia.” “Shall we?”
We shall’ed.
Sit. Shuffling. Seats.
Must admit. This. Is the best part.
They are. Achingly beautiful.
Yes. She is. Miss Malaysia. The Miss Universe one.
That is. Usually. Not uncommonly.
Until they talk.
Still. Getting comfortable.
We begin:

“Can we get you ladies a drink? Champagne? Wine?”
“Hmm… I’m feeling naughty tonight. A glass of Champagne, I think.” Says Ida. Oh man. When did Urma die?
“Sounds good. About the champagne, I mean.” Knowing looks.
Okay. Somebody’s got lift off.
“And, uh, Nadia, what can we get you?”
”Orange juice for me please, thanks.”
Wan gets champagne.
I get orange juice.
A touch of huskiness. To her voice. Though. Nice.
“And I have miles to go before I sleep.” Mumble.
“So Zack. Nadia and I were wondering whether you are that criminal lawyer, Zachary Hamid.”
Sigh. Try to. Smile.

“Well that is my name and I do a little bit of criminal work here and there. Could be.”
They. Smile back. Those million dollar ones.
“That first year lawyer who successfully defended the ‘impossible trial’?” Nadia. Zhang Zi Yi's identical twin. Swear on whichever. Holy book. If need be.
Damn. Got me. Blushing.
These girls. Good. Very.
“Yeah.”
By then. Wan. Ida.
Conversation. In flight. We have take off. Roger that.
“Wow. This is so cool.” Surprised. Genuine.
“Didn’t know you were in the habit of following criminal trials.”
“I actually find the law fascinating. Even back then. Plus my dad’s a lawyer as well.”

Damn! Is this. On live telecast. Or something?
“What about law do you find fascinating?”

“The idea that justice could be meted out. Applying both in general with room made to accomodate each individual too. Like this huge elastic umbrella that can reach out and shelter some of the isolated groups or people not directly under it. It... it's like the rails of society. That's it.” Very pleased. With herself. Flashes another one of those. Million dollar smiles. Glowing. With the pleasure of thought. Wow.

Is she for real. Or what?
“I think your friend, Ida, mentioned to Wan that you are in the legal line?”
“Something like that but ‘were’.”
“Were?”
“I just finished my Masters. I just got home and am taking some time off. Relaxing.”
“Where’d you do read your law?”
“Durham.”
“Lovely place.”

“Yeah. It has a very rustic feel to it. I love it there! You could go walking in the forest anytime you wanted because they had treks just behind the halls. They have a lovely church. When they sing during mass on Sunday, it’s heavenly! The acoustics lends a sense of majesty to the singing. Have you been there before?”
Cross. Necklace. Plain silver.
Resting happily. Against her collarbone.

“Oh. Once. It’s been so long though. I don’t even have faded memories to hold on to about it. Sad, right?”
“Well, maybe it’s time you went back to England. When was the last time you were back there?”
A lifetime. Ago.
“I haven’t been back since I graduated.”
“Oh wow. Is that long?”

“Yeah! Like… 8 years ago.”
“That IS long. Where’d you graduate from?”
“Bristol.”
“Oh Bristol. It’s a lovely place! Kinda hilly though, right?”
“Yeah. Have you been to Bath though?”
“Oh yes! Bath is absolutely gorgeous. I loved the Roman baths. The quaint cobble stone streets. The bridges. It’s like a perfect postcard picture town.”
Alliterative!
“Alliteration noted.”
She giggles.
“I’m impressed! Not many people notice that. Or when they do they don't know what it's called.” A touch of satisfaction crept. Into her smile.
“Confession time. I’m a geek.”
“Would you believe me if I told you I’m one too?”

“Nope. As a lawyer, I have to put everything to strict proof. And in such devastatingly serious matters such as these, the burden of proof of beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

"It's true. I love to read. I'll read anything.”
For real?! Oxymoron. Smart. Model.
“So who are your favourite authors?”
“I'll even read toothbrush or cereal boxes... Oh sorry! It might take us all night if I list them out."
Sounds fine. To me.
"I’m actually into short stories at the moment. So Maupassant is definitely up there.”
Maupassant. My favourite.
“Chekov.”
Chekov? Holy shit!
“Maugham.”
I love. Maugham.
“Novelists… hmmm… I love Nick Hornby, Kazuo Ishiguro, P.G. Wodehouse, Kathy Lette for my trash, and... oh, there are just too many!”
Paradigm shifting. Major.
“How about you?”
“I like those guys you mentioned too."
"Cool! What are you reading now then?”

“Well, I haven’t been reading a lot of fiction lately. At the moment, I’m reading this book called “The Age of Missing Information” by Bill McKibben. This guy is hilarious. He did an experiment. He spent 24 hours, or a day, in the country. And then spent a few weeks watching 24 hours worth of TV for each 93 cable TV channels for one day. I haven’t really finished it but the gist of his argument is that you learn more sitting in the woods naked contemplating your navel compared to plopping yourself in front of the TV.”
“Really? Sitting naked in the woods?”
“Yeah. Not one thread.”
Pause. She's thinking.
"Why does he have to be naked?"
"Why does he have to wear clothes?"
Chuckles.
“You’re funny.”
“Not really. I think you just like to laugh.”
Smiles. Cheers.
Menu. Served.
Waiter. Black suit. Bow tie.
Beside. Table.
“Have you been here before?”
“Yes.”
“What would recommend?”
“What do you feel like?”
“Adventurous.”
“Okay. How about the pigeon to start and the lamb cutlets for the mains?”
“Sounds good.”
We order.
“You mentioned your father was practising?”
“Yeah. Maybe you’ve heard of him – Lim Wei Ming.”
“Hmmm… afraid not.”
“It’s okay. He does mostly corporate work.”
“Ahh… which firm is he in?”
“Shearn.”
“Ah. Big time.”
Shrugs. “Not really.”
“Is he why you ended up reading law?”
“No.”
“No pressure from him about reading law?”
“Nah. Maybe it was all those law shows on TV.”
“Maybe. You’d be surprised how many people tell me that they ended up being a lawyer because they thought practise was like LA Law or the Practise, etc. i.e. fun, exciting, full of drama.”
“You mean it’s not?”
“Those instances are few and far in between. Most of the time it’s drudgery. You just plow through piles and piles of paper. You go through reams of statements. Spend your time in quiet contemplation or doing research. Writing papers.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“ I love the law. Although I'm in the process of falling out of love with it. The thing about legal practise here is it's challenging. Sometimes on the law. But mostly it's about how you get around certain things. And intellectually there’s always some issue that has loose ends, imperfect principles, different ways of approaching it, for us to research and think about.”
“Sounds like you still enjoy practise.”
“Heh… looking at me practise, you wouldn’t think so!”
“Well, it’s what’s inside that counts, right?”
Uh. Yeah. But not for you, honey.
Wan. Shoots me. Look.
“Yeah.”
“I dislike people who judge books by their covers. I didn't quite feel this so much in England when I was there, but I find Asian people do that a lot.”
“Well, the logic I suppose is that covers are supposed to be an indication of what’s inside. You know… The title gives an indication about what the book’s about. The cover gives an impression of the book. The little write up at the back tells you what the book is about and there are the comments as well about what other people think of the book. So, there is a lot of information on covers. These days, anyway.”
“Yeah, but that’s just information about what the book is about. You can’t make a proper evaluation of the book with just that information. You can’t tell whether it’s good or bad read just from that information. And what’s more, the comments at the back are biased. They only tell you the good things about the book. That’s why I never bother with the comments about the book.”
Formidable!
Wan. Kicking me. Under the table.
Appetizers are served.
“Oh these look so lovely!”
Not. As you.
“Yeah.”
“It’s almost a shame to eat them.”
“Key word here is “almost”. Bon appitit.”
Damn. Looks. So good. Eating that.
Wishing. Fervently. Her appetizer: Me.
Brunello di Montalcino. Ordered.
“So where’d you do your Masters?”
“Cambridge.”
Fuck! Not. Just smart. Damn smart.
“Ah. So what’s next for you? Any plans to practise?”
“Hmm… not at the moment, no.” Smiles. “I’m taking a year off.”
“Vacation?”
“Mmm… well, not … sort of.”
“Sounds all… very mysterious!”
“Bizarre, more like.”
Like. Today.
“Bizarre?”
“Would you believe it if I told you I won the Miss Malaysia title?”
“I would believe it even if you didn’t tell me.” Work it. Work it.
“Yeah, right!”
“Yeah, right! Yeah right!”
“Hmmmm…. That was good.”
Appetizers. Finished.
Big smiles. All round.
I’m addicted. To her smiles.
Want to reduce it. To powder. So I can sniff it.
“When did you win it?”
“About a month ago.”

“Damn! You’re Miss Malaysia and what do you do on your first month of your reign? You go for a dinner with two strangers!”
Laughs.
“I know! I was just thinking how ironic the situation is. Here I am, Miss Malaysia and there you are, the famous criminal lawyer, and we’re both here chaperoning our friends! You’d think it was the other way round.”
“Tell me about it.” Whisper. Gritted teeth. Story of my life.
Stunning. Smart. Classy. Talker. Reader. Damn.
She is. Kitchen Sink.
“So, how do you know, Wan?”
Hooo Boy. Hoop. Hoop.
“Him. Oh. Heh. Hmmm… We met like about 5 years ago. Yeah.”
“Oh. Okay. How did you meet?” Curious thing!
“We met at like some mutual friend’s party and uh, hit it off from there!”
That should do it. I hope.
"I see. Can I be frank?”
“Only if you let me be Mrs. Frank. Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. Sure. Be frank.”
“You seem pretty different from Wan. Well, from what Ida told me about him, anyway.”
“Well, we are pretty different from each other. But somehow, and you might find this hard to believe, we do actually have some mutual interests in common. Plus, he’s a pretty fun guy, most of the time.”
“Ida says he’s crazy.”
“Yeah. Borderline insanity.”
Laughter. Comes easy. For her.
Better. Switch. Topics.
“So, how about you and Ida?”
“Oh, we’ve been friends for like, forever. We’re neighbours. Same school. Same college. The only difference is she went to a different university. We both even did law.”
“Soul sisters, eh?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”
“How many in your family?”
“Four. Mom. Dad. Me. And my younger brother, Alex. Yourself?”
“Six of us. Parents. Me. Two younger sisters, Zila and Nina, and one younger brother, Saiful.”
“Sounds fun with so many siblings!”
“There are highs and lows.” Half hearted. Smile.
More lows. Lately.
“So is anybody else in your family a lawyer?”
“No. Just me. Zila’s in advertising. Saiful is… is… just … let’s just say he’s religious. And Nina, the youngest, is in first year uni. Studying graphic design.”
Frowns. Not good.
“Why do you say ‘religious’ like that?”
‘Because… truth?’
‘Always.’
Sigh.
‘He’s extremely religious. Nobody knows what he does. He’s never around. We suspect he’s giving religious classes at some mosque. We only see him once a week during family dinners on Sunday. And even then he’s pretty secretive about what he’s up to. And let me tell you, it’s no fun because he’s always preaching to everybody else about what sinners we are, and I’m always arguing with him about what a zealot he is.’
‘Hmm. How is it you’re here drinking a glass of wine when your brother is probably some place giving religious classes?’
‘That’s a question I’ve been asking myself!" Nervous laughter.
Smiles back. Whew!
‘I thought it was forbidden for Muslims to drink wine.’
‘And your thoughts are most certainly correct! But then there are muslims and there are muslims, and there are the irredeemably naughty muslims.’ Cock Head. Left. Smile.
I’m a sinner.
‘Ah.’
‘But I’ve been babbling about myself. What about you? What’s your family like?’
‘Oh, not as colourful as yours, I’m afraid. My father’s a doctor, and still runs his clinic. My mom’s retired and now just takes care of the house and my father. My brother’s still studying architecture in Australia.’
‘So, they happy that you’re back?’
‘Yeah. I’m happy to be back too. There’s no place like home.’
‘Definitely.’
Ida breaks in.
‘Uh, guys, we’re going to the ladies for a while.’
Wan. I. Get up.
Corner. They disappear.
‘Sooo… the model thing still a bad idea?’
‘I apologise.’
‘Damn right, you apologise! From the word ‘go’, everybody else just ceased to exist!’
‘Okay. Okay. I’m the idiot!’
‘Got that right. Just remember who said that the next time! So. How is she? Looks fucking amazing!’
‘Kitchen sink.’
‘100% bona fide kitchen sink, right out of your mama’s kitchen. Goddamn man! Why is it you always end up with the hotter chicks?’
‘Hey, ease off, man. I haven’t ‘ended up’ with her!’
‘Whatever, man. She looked like she couldn’t wait to get under the table.’
‘Shut up. And I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Ida’s looks like bloody Uma Thurman!’
‘Yeah, but she’s not Miss Malaysia.’
‘Jeez. Will you get over that?’
‘Yeah. BBP! Plus she’s a wild child! We were playing footsie under the table!’
‘Really? I’m getting this ‘christian’ kind of vibe from her.’
‘Zack. Listen to me, okay? Enjoy the moment. That shit doesn't matter okay. This is not for life. You’re not going to fucking marry her, okay?’
‘Shit. I feel cursed. I meet one of the most stunningly beautiful, intelligent and interesting woman I’ve ever met, and she’s Christian. This is why, I’m not religious! I’m God’s joke!’
‘Zack. Shut the fuck up and enjoy the night, alright? God. If I could light another one up and shove it up your ass right now I would.'

They’re back.
Can see. They’ve talked.
We’ve been rated. Evaluated. Dissected.
Come to sit. In judgment.
Oh, be merciful!
Dinner. Immediately served.
‘Oh wow. The cutlets smell so good!’
Heavenly.
‘They look good too.’
‘They do don’t they? Your fish looks very interesting.’
How about me?
‘They cook the fish really well here. Somehow they always manage to surprise me. Well, enjoy!'
Small pieces. Cut. Chewed. Tasted. Exquisite.
‘So…’ I start.
Beethoven’s Ninth. Blaring. Sounds like.
100 piece orchestra.
Wan’s phone.
‘… how was that?’
‘Oooh… simply divine!’
‘Uh… Zack. Phone call.’
Huh?
‘Hello?’
‘Zack?’
‘Yeah. Ma?’
What she says. I don’t like.
Not. One bit.
‘Zack! Sai’s been caught by the police!’ She. Virtually screams.
Escapes the phone. Rolls around our table. Which goes quiet.
They. Turns to me.
‘When?’
‘Just! Ina just called me.’
‘Ina knows? How does she know?’
‘I don’t know! All I know is she said he was taken by the police.’
‘Where was he?’
‘Kajang.’
‘Kajang?!’
‘That’s what she said?’
‘Yes. Oh Zack, please do something!’
No. No. No! Story of my life.
‘Okay. What’s Ina’s number?’
She tells me. Hang up.
‘What’s wrong, man?’ Wan.
‘Uh. Sai’s been arrested.’
‘Holy shit? How did he get arrested?’
‘I don’t know. Will you please excuse me?’
Step out. Dial. Tone. Ringing.
‘Assalamualaikum.’
‘Mualaikumsalam. Ina ke?’
‘Ya.’
‘Ma kata Sai kena tangkap polis. Betul, ke?’
‘ah ah.’
‘Dia dekat mana, tu?’
‘Kat masjid kajang …’
‘Dia tengah buat apa tu?’
‘I dah kata dah kat Sai pagi ni.’
‘Ina, bila Sai kena tangkap?’
‘Baru ni! Kereta dan van polis tu baru tolak.’
‘Kenapa dia kena tangkap?’
‘Tak tahulah. Tak sempat nak cakap dengan dia tadi.’
Shit. Shit. Shit. Fucking Saturday night!
‘Uhm… Ina, cepat tolong cari kawan dan ikut kereta polis tu. Aku nak tahu mana dia nak bawa Sai.’
‘Okay. Okay.’
‘Sekarang tau!’
‘Okay.’
Shit. Shit. Dinner with Miss Malaysia. And my brother gets arrested.
Fucking unbelievable.