30 November 2006

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:30 November 2006, 18:13
Subject: I'm Scared...  

I'm really scared now that I can't make it on time. =( I only have roughly 5 more hours left before midnight, and I need to get my novel validated by then and also to hit 50 000 words. Oh man, this is so scary! I'm really tempted to turn my local time to USA's but that would be cheating.

I give it my best shot. 5000 more words to go!

[+] There's more!

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:Same date as above, 00:02
Subject: The End is Imminent...  

Sprint to the finish line!I have roughly 10,000 words to cough out later today. Yesterday's progress was bad as I didn't really focus of my novel. But today is my last chance. My final chance to show the world that I can finish writing this novel by today, 11:59:59 p.m. 23 hours later. Time is short, time is becoming a constraint. I'm scared, yet I'm excited to end this thing as well. I came so far, and there is no more turning back. It's full sprint towards the end.

The story is coming well pretty good, if I must say. I have began writing out the famous 'ballroom scene'. No, this is still not a call for celebration yet. I have a high chance of finishing the novel; I might not. Hopefully it will be the former.

Oh well, I should stop blabbing so much now. Let's see. I will fall asleep later at 1 something, and wake up at 9 something. I begin to write out the novel at 10 something and hopefully not get too distracted by the wonderful world of web there. I continue this marathon feat for 12 hours straight, and this includes procrastination time, probably an afternoon siesta if time permits, my usual 7pm TV-dinner time.

Okay, I think I can do it.

No wait, I MUST DO IT. Else, I'll be disappointed with myself.



[+] There's more!

29 November 2006

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:29 November 2006, 00:02
Subject: Kinderella - Chapter 6  

Kinderella - My NovelI hit the green! I hit the green! I hit the green! Yeah! I'm so proud of my accomplishment today!

The green box! Yee-ha!

I cannot believe it! I thought I would never make it yesterday (which was a few minutes ago). And now, I managed to drop my tomorrow's expected workload by 12 words... Err, okay... That isn't so much.

Later today, I must make sure I hit the expected words NaNoWriMo wants me to write by tomorrow. Only 2 more days of perseverance, running at the same pace as today, and after that, I'm home free!

I've done until Chapter 11, and am now working on Chapter 12. Expect one tomorrow, when I'll probably shout out my "little" victory or lost. Chapter 6 is here for your reading pleasure. Click on No. above the Date field to view the story.

If you're eyes tire after reading such long blocks of text, I have divided this chapter into 2 halves for your convenience. Words in bold mark where the anchors lead to.

Quick Jump:
First half
Second half


Chapter 6

Amy fluttered open her eyelids. She had to squint because of the bright fluorescent light in the ceiling that illuminated her room. She rubbed her eyes hard with her own hands and grabbed a look at her clock. It was 5 a.m., early in the morning. She tried to get out of her bed but flopped back down as the room around her began to spin slightly.

“Man, why did I have to wake up so early even though I’m really tired?”

She lay down on her bed and started to organize her plans for the day mentally. She hoped that by doing so, she will wear herself out to sleep for an hour or two before starting school. She thought and thought, but she could not slip into slumber. After fifteen minutes, she gave up, got up and drew herself a nice warm bath in the porcelain bathtub.

She sat down at her vanity table, and she used a brush to comb her medium auburn hair. She whistled a tuneless song while she meticulously parted and combed her hair. Using her fingers, she plaited her hair and tied a pink ribbon at the ‘tail’. She quickly wore the outside she planned to wear yesterday, grabbed her schoolbag and left her room.

She went into the dining room and was surprised that the table was not even set. She looked at her own watch. The blinking digits 06:15 showed. She sighed. No wonder, it was still so early in the morning. She peeked at the kitchen door, hoping to find that the chef is about to prepare her breakfast. Unfortunately, the lights were turned off and no one was there yet. She was beginning to wonder that the people in the mansion were still fast asleep, besides the security guards and her herself.

Amy dropped her schoolbag on the floor and decided to pop into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for herself. She opened the cabinets in search for some simple and easy to make breakfast. Cereal was what was in her mind. Apparently, the only prepared food there were several loaves of bread together with a few bottles of jam and peanut butter. She plugged the toaster into the main switch, and toasted two slices of bread. She stood there, waiting for the bread to be toasted. She waited, and waited, and waited.

A few good minutes had passed. She wondered why the bread was still not fully toasted yet.

“Oh!” She smacked herself in the forehead. She switched on the switch. “Silly me, it was off all along!” She laughed at herself for her silliness.

The bread suddenly jumped up from the toaster. She grabbed a plate, placed the bread on them and carefully spread the strawberry jam over them with a knife. She hummed a song by Britney Spears “Hit Me Baby One More Time” while she was spreading the jam. Finally, she folded both the slices of bread into half. She placed the loaf and the jam away into the cabinet and she took a bite of the bread while standing up. She felt that she will be finishing her breakfast fast, so there was no need for her to go all the way to the dining table and properly consume the food.

After she was done, she casually grabbed a carton of milk from the refrigerator and poured it into a glass. She downed the milk, placed the dirty dish and the now-empty glass on the sink and hopped to the garage.

Her driver Jenkins who was in his pyjamas was cleaning the black Mercedes Benz thoroughly when Amy gave a small cough. He wheeled around and nearly fell on the floor when he saw the elegant teenage girl looking at him, very bemused herself. Jenkins’s face became shades of red, and timidly asked her, “Amy! What are you doing down here so early in the morning?”

“Hello dear Jenkins! I’m ready and full of energy. I’m enthusiastic about school. In fact, I’m so loving it I can’t sleep the whole night!” Amy wildly gestured, clearly saying that she was over-exaggerating.

Jenkins mouth went wide open. “Clearly you don’t mean that?”

Amy gave a sly grin. She placed her arms over Jenkins’s shoulder. She looked at him, and said, “Of course not my man! Come, I’ve got school to go to!”

“Okay,” said Jenkins while he let Amy’s arm drop off from his shoulder, clearly uncomfortable by her sudden sarcasm. “Let me go change into my uniform.”

Amy shook her head frantically. “No! No need to. Just send me to school, no one will be there that early to see you in your…” Before she could complete her sentence, she burst into gales of laughter.

Jenkins stared at her. He was shocked at Amy’s weird attitude that morning. He wanted to insist changing to his uniform, but for some reasons he could not muster a word. He took a deep breath and opened the car door to let Amy in to the car. The laughing Amy tried to mouth out the word thanks and sat in the comfortable chair, while Jenkins sat in the driver’s seat. The engine roared into life as the garage door slowly rose up. The headlights came on, and as quietly as a kitten the car drove out of the driveway into the streets, humming quietly along the way to school.

“Well, this is going to be interesting day,” exclaimed Amy who kept staring at Jenkins’ chequered pyjamas. Jenkins frowned and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He ignored Amy’s comment and concentrated on his driving. He will get over with this little joke soon.

Amy slunk herself a bit down the chair, and she slipped in and out of consciousness as the scenery zipped by. Without her realising it, Jenkins stopped the car in front of her school. Her door was opened and she gave a big yawn, asking Jenkins where she was now.

“Oh look! Big girl expecting her little ‘slave’ to open the door after now, eh?” came a high-pitched voice that did not quite sound like Jenkins. In fact, it sounded eerily familiar to Amy’s ears.

“Melissa! What are you doing here?” asked a very shocked Amy. She got out of her car and her exit was greeted by hoots of girly girl giggles. When she got out, Melissa shut the door of the shiny Mercedes Benz and missed her blouse by her few inches.

Jenkins flustered to drive the car away as fast as he could. He did not want to witness another development of a cat fight. He felt so bad that he had just abandoned Amy there all alone defenceless with a group of not so nice girls. But he just could not protect her wearing only his pyjamas, it will further embarrass Amy and he himself. He whispered to God his apology if Amy was harmed.

“Amy, dear sweet charming little Charmings. Thank goodness you came early to school today. That horrendous 70’s dress of yours serves as an example of the greatest fashion disaster of the millennia!” snorted Melissa.

The word “Yea!” was echoed by Melissa’s ‘sorority sisters’.

Amy clenched her fist. “At least this dress was hot enough for the 70’s chics to wear. You’re just jealous that you weren’t the one who will revive foxy outfits from the past.”

Melissa did not flinch. “That was because I’m not as stupid as you are and those old-timers! The fashion was soon dead because it was too ugly, of course. You don’t see people like us wearing that now.”

A tall freckled brunette added on to her comment. “Except for Mrs. Sanders.”

The girls roared into laughter at that little joke of hers. Amy was clearly not amused.

“Look, why do you care about what I wear? I’m not you, okay? What is your intention?” challenged Amy.

“People like you who quit our gang will be treated harshly because they deserve it. They made a really big mistake. You disowned us, Amy, you betrayer! Nobody ever does that and gets away with it. And now you shall pay!” Melissa cracked her fist, and out of the blue, she tackled Amy.


Amy gave a loud scream and she ran to the field and crouched on the floor. A wind bellowed, and the oak tree in front of the school rustled. Suddenly, everything slowed down immensely. The air suddenly became still, the birds chirped slowly in the trees and Amy could see Melissa’s girlfriends. Some cowered in fear, the others watch in anticipation of this assault.

Melissa’s long blond hair swished in the wind as she ran. Her Sunday’s best fluttered in the wind. She sprinted towards her target, giving a growl as she tried her best form of intimidation. Her leg suddenly caught on something and Amy watched in horror as her predator fell on the soft muddy ground instantly.

Melissa remained motionless for a few seconds. The few students who were gathering there gasped, even Amy, fearing that she might have badly injured herself. Melissa slowly got up from the ground using her hands, and when she faced them, her girlfriends immediately fled the scene. Amy could not believe her once so pretty face had suddenly became a mud cake, like a chocolate cake recipe gone bad.

“Oh my gosh! I wish I was there early to see the look on her face! So what did you do?” asked Mary. She flashed a grin which exposed the silver braces stuck on the upper jaw of her teeth.

Amy, who was now portraying Zuleikha, simply shook her head. “Mary, you never believe this,” she sighed.

“I just helped her up and gave her my handkerchief to wipe the mud off her face.”

Mary’s eyes bore at her friend’s. “No way! Why did you do that for? She kept picking on you, isn’t it just great she finally got her own dose of medicine?”

Amy shrugged. “Hey, I’m soft in the heart. No one was there to help her. I think everyone literally fled after they saw the Medusa look-alike. I feel sorry for her though, but then it’s expected. No one really likes her because of her mean attitude. They wouldn’t dare to help anyway. She had this expression of her face telling the whole world that she would explode anytime soon.

“What she didn’t know is, she herself even though popular for her beauty and grace, is infamous for her mean streak. And my mom told me to repay evil with kindness, and that will usually give them a guilty conscience.”

“Amy, oh Amy! You’re too nice!” joked Mary.

“Correction. I’m Zuleikha. Do you want to tell the whole world that,” she lowered her voice into a whisper, “I’m the daughter of President Charming? Please! I’ll be flanked by national reporters and journalist, and Mother will drop nuke on me!”

“Sorry, I forgot. I’m not used to calling you that. Why the disguise anyway?” asked Mary inquisitively.

“Long story,” came the curt reply from Amy. “Oh, come here, look at this cute external hard disk! It’s 40 GB in size.”

Mary studied the hard disk carefully. She then put the peripheral down. “Oh, I’ve seen better and cheaper ones before,” she shrugged. “Anyway, I have all the time in the world to listen to your ‘long story’.”

“Fine,” said Amy. “Well, I have to be Zuleikha because it wasn’t easy staying at home the whole day. It really drives me nutty, it’s like as if I have been put under house arrest! Besides, when I go out, Mother insisted on two bodyguards following me around. I get no privacy, you know, and people will stare at me, especially those pesky paparazzi.

“And so, I disguised myself as a Persian lady. I can cover my glaring auburn hair with a headscarf, and that also makes my face unrecognizable. I have been sneaking out from my house for already a few months, and so far all of my escapades were undetected. Wish I could have thought up of this ingenious plan a long time ago.”

“Why go out? You can always curl up in front of your computer.”

Amy patted her friend on her back. “True, true. But I wanted to see the outside world as well, see how the society works. Oh, it’s complicated to explain.”

“No, no need to. I got you already.” Mary gave her best friend a wink. They both wandered along the little booths set up by various computer companies in the country.

Mary suddenly shrieked. Amy ran quickly towards her. “What? What happened?”

“Look at this, just look at this!” Mary shoved the big and white pen drive she was holding right in front of Amy’s eyes.

Amy looked at her friend in a weird way. “So? It’s just a pen drive, except fatter.”

“No, no, no!” Mary quickly interjected. “It’s the latest iPod Shuffler! Look, look!” She placed the white player in Amy’s hand.

“See the word 2 gig?”

“I see it, I see it, and I don’t believe it!” shrieked Amy as well. “Since when does Apple release 2 gig shufflers? I don’t remember any breaking news on it.”

“Well, who cares, let’s ask the shopkeeper!” Mary pulled Amy’s hands, and they both inquired the shopkeeper of the Apple retailer.

“We received only a batch of it from Apple Corporations last night. They wanted buyers who are in the Computer Expo today to try it out. It’s still in BETA by the way,” informed the shopkeeper.

“Well, how much?”

“$199. But you better buy it quick, because it’s the last one we have in store.”

Amy looked at her friend, and Mary stared at her back. They both weighed the decision laid on them. To buy or not to buy, that is the question.

A small kid of about eight years old pulled Mary’s shirt. Mary looked at the little kid, and politely asked what does he want?

The little kid showed his big blue eyes to Mary. He shifted his feet around and showed her his well-practiced puppy dog eyes while casually pointing at the new iPod shuffler she was holding.

Mary looked at the kid. “Aww, you want it?”

The little boy nodded his head in earnest, but he looked like he was about to wail when Mary shook her head and exclaimed, “No, it’s mine! Mine!”

She gave a sinister laughter, and with jubilance she told the shopkeeper she will take it. He smiled as his hands felt the texture of paper money. He immediately drew up an invoice, and told Mary to fill up a feedback form so that Apple Corporation can contact her after 3 months of usage.

She quickly signed her name and dragged Amy away into the crowd. The little boy looked at her, frustrated that he could not get his hands on the new iPod shuffler. He kept on staring at Mary. Mary looked behind, and put her tongue out at him, and the poor little kid cried and ran to look for his mother.

“Mary, that was mean of you!” lectured Amy.

“Hey Am, errr, I mean Zul…Zul…”

“Zuleikha,” reminded Amy.

“Yes, Zuleikha! I saw that iPod first, and I was the first one who paid for it as well. So of course I deserve it. Like they say: ‘first come, first serve!’”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Don’t come crying for me when the boy’s mother come and look for you!”

Mary’s eye flicked. “She dare do that, I shall bombard her with my receipt, my invoice and most of all, dangle that thing in front of her very own eyes!”

“You’re a devil when it comes to this. Come on, I got a hard disk to hunt for!” reminded Amy.

They both chuckled in laughter as they disappeared into the crowd.

(Catch Chapter 7 soon! Comments and criticisms very much welcomed =). Thanks for reading!)

[+] There's more!

27 November 2006

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:27 November 2006, 13:46
Subject: Kinderella - Chapter 5  

Kinderella - My NovelHi everyone! It's been days since I last updated, but here's Chapter 5. I'm already halfway through Chapter 6 now, and things are slowly piecing together. Today, and on Tuesday and Wednesday, I will do my very best to churn out 10 000 words per day (at least 4 chapters a day! :-O ), by hook or by crook. I am really determined to meet the deadline on November 30. And now I must defeat Mr. Evil Procrastination and Mr. Discouragement. Charge!!!

Prepare for some inactivity for a few days but I'll be back soon, hopefully a winner. ;) The few upcoming chapters that I will be uploading are a bit "boring" in my opinion, because they're mainly fillers and descriptions for that word count. Things are slowly picking up now.

Click on No. above the Date field to view the story. To view my progress, click here (don't mind the 2 week inactivity period - that was what caused me to fall behind badly).

Edit at 00 04 the next day: Oh my goodness! I've just hit 25 000 words, halfway through the goal. Things are definitely looking much cheerier now! I sweated out 8 000 words today, and it wasn't an easy task! Now to keep the momentum going for 3 more days. Can I make it? I sure hope I would!

If you're eyes tire after reading such long blocks of text, I have divided this chapter into 2 halves for your convenience. Words in bold mark where the anchors lead to.

Quick Jump:
First half
Second half


Chapter 5

A perspiring Amy tiptoed down the hallways and took a left turn. She opened the slightly ajar sliding door. She looked behind to ensure that no one was shadowing her and quickly squeezed herself through the narrow gap she created. She stepped inside and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“A close one!” she exclaimed to no one in particular.

She walked past the exercise machines: the treadmill, abdominal machines, exercise bike, rowing machine; and went to a corner of the gym. She changed into her sports outfit, a collared sweatshirt and track pants, and stuffed her sweaty clothes into the gym bag she brought along with her. With a handkerchief, she wiped off the sweat in her forehead and she ran to the door. She placed her ears at the door, listening for footsteps.

A minute later, she heard the sound of tapping stilettos. Perfect timing, Amy thought. She tied her hair into a ponytail, and slid open the door. She walked out nonchalantly and pretended to pant loudly. She purposely cried out loudly.

“Ooohh! That was so tiring!” Amy took out her handkerchief and like a lady, she dabbed it on her face to wipe off any sweat that were beginning to form.

“Honey! How was your gym routine today? You seem to be pretty worn out.” President Charming gave her daughter her usual affectionate smile.

“Oh Mother! You just don’t know how…” Amy paused for a few seconds, trying to formulate up a make-believe exercise regime.

Amy snapped her fingers. She continued, “You know what, Mother? Those dumbbells are heavy, even though they’re 1.5 kg. It’s okay Mother, don’t worry, it’s my first time! I’m sure with constant lifting, it would be nothing at all! Honest!”

Amy’s mother widened her eyes when her usually feminine daughter mentioned the word dumbbells. She questioned herself again. Did she really say that?


“Yes Mother,” replied Amy. She enunciated the word once again, this time much more slowly. She was afraid that her mother this time would not buy her. “Dduuummmbb bbeeellllsss…”

“Yes, yes, honey! I heard you,” President Charming touched her chin with her finger. “But it isn’t nice for women like you to have big bulging muscles. It’s very unladylike, you know!”

“Sorry Mother! But I got bored of running the treadmill and cycling the stationary exercise bike. I’m too weak to use the abdominal machine…”

Amy quickly changed the subject. “Say, isn’t it about time for dinner?” She pushed her mother gently, ushering her to go. “I’m famished already.”

“Yes, dear,” said President Charming, who was getting suspicious of her daughter’s weird actions today. “I shall go change into a more comfortable wear.” She walked off into her bedroom.

Amy clapped her hands and gave herself a pat on her back. “It was too close for comfort! I must be back earlier the next time.” She smiled at herself, and she jogged back to her bedroom to change out of her clothing, and to pass the maid her dirty laundry.

Amy took quick steps down the carpeted stairs, with beautifully carved rails and smooth polished handles. Her patched skirt fluttered as she walked down the stairs, and when her legs suddenly come in contact with the cold wooden floor, she lifted it up with grace and continued walking in a quicker pace towards the dining room. And there she saw her mother sitting wonderfully poised at the other end of the extra-long table.

Amy spied the eating utensils and the fine glasses sitting on the table when she entered the dining room. She furrowed her eyebrows and immediately went to see her own mother. She bent down and whispered something into her ears. President Charming’s expression turned from a blank one into a look of surprise. As she listened to her daughter’s sweet voice, she could not help but nodded in agreement and immediately she summoned the butler on duty that night. She stood up and pointed the other end of the table and then moved her finger to the seat near her. The butler nodded as if he understood her gestures even though no words came out of her mouth, and very quickly another butler set up the plates, the chopsticks and the spoon near the President’s seat. Amy smiled and showed her mother the thumbs up. President Charming’s eyes twinkled and she casually winked at her dear daughter Amy. Amy giggled a bit at her mother’s cute act.

They both sat in silence as they waited for food to be served to them. Amy stared at the courtyard outside lit by bright Victorian lamp posts dotted around the courtyard. She could make out some silhouettes of the shrubs; she recognised the lavender, the bonsai, the bougainvillea, the periwinkle… Suddenly, her integral recall of the plants was interrupted by the faint sound of “Ahem!” that came from behind her. Amy turned around, and she came face to face with a young chef of about 30 years old. He was moustached and slightly hunched back. He was holding a plate of sweet-smelling exotic food which Amy could not guess what it was.

President Charming held her nose up high and tried to sniff a waft of the food. “Smells delicious! May I know what is that?”

The chef cleared his throat and answered her, saying, “今天的晚餐是有咖喱鸡, 黑豆牛肉, 小白菜和轻汤加饭.” He set the first dish down on the table and bowed. Other chefs who were tagging behind him quickly served the rest of the Chinese food on the table.

“Wait, hold on,” the president called for the chef. The chef quickly came to her and asked whether he can be of assistance.

“Can you repeat what these dishes are in English?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! What I was saying is that tonight’s dishes are curry chicken, beef in black bean sauce and cabbage. Today’s soup is a light vegetable soup with tofu. You will eat all of them with rice.”

“Mother, it sounds really yummy!” piqued in Amy.

“Thank you! I love today’s Chinese cuisine as well. My compliments to you chefs!” The chef blushed and nodded his head. They left mother and daughter dining alone in the big dining room. Despite the appetising looks of the Chinese food, Amy was not feeling hungry as she had eaten just now. Amy felt shameful that she actually might have to miss eating them on that evening. Chinese food is rarely served to them, and now she was too full to actually eat them. Amy bit her tongue and forced herself to eat at least some of the food served on the table.

She held her chopsticks and helped herself to some of the curry chicken. She picked a drumstick up and gobbled the meat down. Without wiping the curry stains at her mouth, she helped herself to more servings of the chicken, the beef and the vegetables. She raised the bowl and started the sweep the rice and food with her chopsticks into her mouth. She rested for a while to chew the food properly and repeated again for another time.

Amy let out a small burp and giggled at herself. She then stabbed the chopsticks into her bowl of rice and left them standing upwards. President Charming nearly choked on her food when she saw the chopsticks pointing upwards in the bowl and hit her daughter’s hand twice.

“Ouch, what was that for Mother?”

“The first hit was for eating like a barbarian. The second was for that intolerable act of yours – poking your chopsticks into a bowl of rice!”

“What?!” asked Amy in disbelief, “What’s wrong with my eating habits?”

“You need to slow down and enjoy your food. You’re not in a rush to go anywhere are you?”

“No… But Mother, I wasn’t really hungry to begin with!” protested Amy.

“Oh? You looked like you haven’t eaten in ages! And please, get those chopsticks off the rice and place them horizontally across the bowl! It’s disrespectful!”

“How so?” questioned Amy.

“For starters, Asians believe that the chopsticks which stuck upright in a rice bowl represent joss sticks that are used as offerings to deceased family members.

“Really?” asked Amy who was now really flabbergasted when she heard that. She sheepishly placed the chopsticks down and placed them properly on the table, clearly embarrassed that her gestures like that could potentially offend her mother’s guests if they were there tonight.

“Sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to do that. I am truly sorry!”

President Charming caressed her daughter’s cheek. “You’re lucky that none of my guests are here today. They will certainly be enraged and upset if you do that!”

“Never again! Cross my heart.”

“Oh Mother. I got to go up now and finish up on my school assignments,” chirped in Amy.

Before her mother could say anything, Amy kissed her mother on her cheek and happily skipped back to her bedroom, leaving a very confused president behind.

“Teens,” sighed President Charming, “they’re so difficult to understand. Being a lion tamer is so much easier.”

She pitifully looked at Amy’s half-full bowl and the dishes on the table. What a shame, what a shame. She shook her head. She ate in silence at the table all alone. She used the Chinese soup spoon to sip some soup, and smiled when the soup touched her taste buds. “Heavenly, and simple,” she told herself.

She summoned the butlers who were standing by. She told them to clean up the table and insisted them to finish up the food. They nodded at her instructions and she left them alone to do the cleaning and the eating. She retired herself to the lounge where she watched the news and reviewed some statistics.

Amy slowly shut her own bedroom door. She went straight to her computer and booted up her PC. She logged on to Ebay.com once again to check up on her original Versace handbag. She banged her fist on her keyboard. No one was interested to purchase it. “Morons! Where are the rich people when you need them?” she wondered.

She then hopped up onto her soft bed, and she zipped open her school bag. With care, she took out a few notebooks of different colours. “Helps me in telling which notebooks belong to which subjects,” she once told to her friend. She opened her Mathematics notebook and flipped to the page where the class was supposed to complete some simultaneous equations. Oh, how she dreaded those!

She took out her pen, and she was about to begin when the questions suddenly morphed. She stared again and it was not what she thought it was. She had completely overlooked one of the coefficients. She groaned. That darned number made things even harder now. She cursed under her breath.

She started with writing out the rough working in pencil. After a couple of trials and mistakes for twenty minutes, she finally found the light at the end of a long tunnel. Finally, the variable x was 12 ¾ while y was 27. She double-checked her answers. She substituted the variables of the first given equation and calculated the answer. It did not match the solution of the equation.

“No! How can it be possible?” Unfortunately, mistakes are very much prevalent in Mathematics. That was why there were many Sixth Form students dropping that subject in her school. It’s either they could not comprehend the complexity of Mathematics, or that they find the subject very frustrating. Despite that, she persisted because she always loved Maths although she was not the best student in class.

She took about two hours to finally finish her Maths assignment. She groaned as she had two more subjects to tackle. She decided to take a short breather before continuing.

She climbed out of the bed and decided to first check up on her e-mail inbox. A message glowed yellow, signifying a new e-mail from Mary. A wave of exuberant rush washed over her as she assumed that Mary had news to tell her. She clicked to open the mail and quickly scanned her e-mail. “I’m so not missing that computer exhibition downtown! This is the perfect opportunity to get my PC its well-deserved upgrade cheaply.”

She logged off her account. Amy suddenly yawned, and she yawned again, and decided to shut down her computer. For some unknown reasons, she felt more tired than usual that day. She got out of her swivel chair and since she was moodless to do anything else, she settled on planning for her outfit tomorrow. “Whee, how I loved school! How I love my friends and Physics classes!”

“And how I loathe my enemies,” she grumbled.

She went into her walk-in closet and flipped through the clothes she owned. She reminded herself never to buy so many again, it is such a chore to choose what she will wear the next day. She took out a few and put them aside neatly. She then picked the clothes up and did some comparative study of clothes.

“Shall I wear this dandy blue cropped top with this cute palazzo pants? Or wear it with this really cute pleated skirt?”

She held the cropped top up high and placed the palazzo pants beneath it. “Not good, the colours clash.” She then tried it with the pleated skirt.

“Ill! It’s a mix and match gone bad! You know what, I hate cropped tops.”

She tossed the clothes on the floor. She randomly picked out a blouse, a camisole top and bell-bottomed jeans from the stack she put away. She thought for a while on how to match the three articles of clothing. She tried fitting them on herself; she wore the camisole top and jeans first, then she put on the blouse over them.

She modelled in front of the mirror, turned around and flaunted a little. And she gave a seductive wink to herself. She was overjoyed. Amy founded, or rather will promote, a fashion statement and she will be the hottest hit in school. “I will show that Melissa and prove to her that even ‘nerds’ can dress good!”

She hung her attire for tomorrow at a knob, and looked around for another outfit she should wear tomorrow afternoon when she will be going out to shop for some computer parts. She looked at the stack of her favourite clothes she carefully put aside and scanned for her baju kurung, a traditional dress of the Malays in Malaysia. Baju kurung is a long-sleeved loose fitting long blouse worn over a matching sarong, and she loved the its silky feel and the way how the traditional Malay dress can make her look slender, yet very conservative.

Her eyes stopped over a blue floral-patterned baju kurung. She yanked the dress out and decided to try it on. She did not remember buying it in a first place but who really cared about it at that moment. As long as she has something nice to wear! She slipped onto the dress, and grabbed a blue tudung, the Malay name for a Muslim women’s headscarf, with intricate golden lace from her drawer.

She tied the headscarf properly on her head and admired the foreign lady in the mirror. The reflection that stared back was not her. A lavish Persian woman with beautiful fair skin and twinkling hazel eyes stared back, dressed in a flowing baju kurung. Her name was Zuleikha.

(Catch Chapter 6 soon! Comments and criticisms very much welcomed =). Thanks for reading!)

[+] There's more!

23 November 2006

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:23 November 2006, 20:58
Subject: Kinderella - Chapter 4  

Kinderella - My NovelHi guys! Here's Chapter 4. Sorry for the late upload, this afternoon I attended a BBQ outing with several of my school prefects. Unfortunately, the turn-up was really bad. But I still had some fun anyway.

Hmmm...I enrolled myself for a 10k word sprint on Friday itself. I hope I can focus my mind on completing my novel and type out 10 000 words. Hopefully, I won't get sidetracked and get distracted etc.

Thank you everyone for the comments! I really appreciate them and it does give me a boost too =D. After I post this up, I will get back to working on Chapter 5.

Click on No. above the Date field to view the story.

If you're eyes tire after reading such long blocks of text, I have divided this chapter into 3 sections for your convenience. Words in bold mark where the anchors lead to.

Quick Jump:
First section
Second section
Third section


Chapter 4

The clacking of the keyboard with her well-manicured nails can be heard throughout the house. Mdm. Sweet perspired feverishly, her breathing in short spurts as she tried to meet the deadline set by her manager. “By 12 midnight, it has to be sent to London. Otherwise, you’re in for a nasty treat,” the warning of her boss echoed in her mind repeatedly.

“Otherwise, you’re in for a nasty treat,” the words once again rang in her mind.

She mouthed a silent no. She shook the thoughts out of her mind and concentrated on finishing up her company’s weekly report which has to be sent to the head company in London by midnight tonight. She hurled insults to herself.

“Why must I catch that useless soap opera that doesn’t make any sense at all! I could have instead used the time to do this stinking report,” she whined.

‘During the Friday meeting, two staffs failed to turn up for the important discussion regarding the change of the company’s policy effective January 2007. During the meeting, our branch manager stressed on the zero tolerance policy the company will adopt on late arrival to work.’

These words appeared on the screen as she swiftly typed them out. She stole a quick glance at the clock shown at her computer’s taskbar. Only an hour and a half left before the dreaded twelve o’ clock. And she’s already burnt out.

Reluctantly, Mdm. Sweet forced herself to recall the important points that were stressed during the meeting deemed compulsory to all. She regretted that she did not pay much attention to her boss’s blabbering; only twirling her pen and her hain throughout most of the meeting. To her, meetings are dreadfully boring. And the head is pretty old-fashioned too. Can’t he just pass carbon-copies of the agendas to staff by means of e-mail? Or even better, hold teleconferencing. It would be so much better and effective. Why, she can even have private chats with her colleagues while the meeting was going on.

“I should have taken notes during the meeting. Or ask Susan, the secretary, to give me a photocopy of the minutes. The boss’s stupid! Hold NetMeeting instead on MSN! I can at least save the whole meeting, and there wouldn’t be any need to trouble Susan!”

“Meetings are too formal; no wonder they are so dreadfully boring!” She laughed at her thoughts.

She resumed typing out the report. Not a few minutes have passed before she grumbled in frustration. She could not recall at all what happened in the second hour of the meeting. She wanted to call Susan and ask her to fax over the minutes, but she did not want to trouble her at this hour.

She stared at the screen thoughtfully. Her mind was now like an empty shell. Like they say, an idle mind is the devil’s workshop, and soon distracting thoughts began to cloud up her mind: watch late-night movies, go online and surf the Wonderful World of Web, go to the bar and get a drink, go and bother Kinderella. She smiled wickedly as she thought of her “dear” step-son Kinderella who was fast asleep in his tiny claustrophobic bedroom.

Why not? It was not like she is bothering him. That stupid blinking fellow would be too sleepy to do anything, and he is able to trail after her every demand hoping that he could get his beauty sleep after that. Oh, how she loved to look at that sleepy head’s confused expression!

“Sure, I’m sadistic. But I love that form of entertainment!” she said bemused.

She rose up from her chair and tiptoed past her children’s bedroom as quietly as a cat. She would have stomped on the ground like an elephant if her children Dean and Aesop were not at home, just to wake Kinderella up. Mdm. Sweet stood by her step-son’s door, and with swift motions she knocked very hard on his door.

Kinderella was sleeping soundly on the warm, carpeted floor. There was simply no place to even put a small bed, so one can imagine how small his room really was. He was having a pleasant dream. He dreamt that he had won the annual national Christmas lottery and got himself a million dollars. He threw some of his money around the streets while people crowd around to get on their hands on the flying papers which make their world go round.

He was laughing his way to the bank when his path was blocked by his own step-brother Aesop. He pitied Aesop when he saw him crying with tears streaking down his face. Aesop was frail and anorexic, and his jet-black hair which was full of lush was now thinning.

He cupped his hands together and whispered in a hoarse voice, “Kinderella, please! I’m sorry to what I have done to you over the years. Forgive me! Have a heart, please, and be so kind as to spare me some of your money.”

Kinderella gave him a look of disgust. “Why should I? You tortured me over the years, and now you want the victim to help you? I think not.”

Kinderella walked away. Aesop called out to him with his weak voice, “Please, I beg you!”

“Oh alright!” Kinderella fished out a dollar from his pocket. “Here, take this. And don’t ever ask from me again.”

“Thank you! Thank you! You don’t know how much this means to me.” His step-brother’s face brightened up and he kissed his money fervourously.

Kinderella laughed, and continued laughing his way to the bank when suddenly, a door dropped from the sky as he was climbing up the steps to the bank. Puzzled, he opened the door and suddenly, a multitude of knocking sounds filled his senses. He covered both his ears in agony and the lottery money began to spill out from him.

Kinderella woke up from his weird dream. He was panting heavily and both his palms were sweaty. The annoying knocking sound continued. The confused Kinderella then realised a few seconds later that it came from his door. He quickly got off and opened the door, wondering what the queen wanted him to do again so late into the night.

He gave a big yawn, and quickly covered his mouth when he was face to face with a woman who was impatiently tapping her foot on the ground. He quickly straightened himself up, and politely asked Mdm. Sweet what she wanted him to do.

“What took you so long to answer the door? I’ve got a report I’m rushing on.”

Kinderella shuffled his feet and while his eyes are trained on the ground, he told his step-mother that he would open the door faster the next time.

“You better!” hissed his step-mother. “Make me coffee, extra-strong. Quick!” she snapped her fingers.

Kinderella nodded and nodded and quickly slink out of sight into the kitchen. He brewed her favourite ginseng coffee for her. He wondered himself how the ginseng can make the coffee taste so complete. He put a few teaspoons of the coffee powder into a cup and filled it with lukewarm water. He then poured the coffee over the strainer into another mug. He added some condensed milk to it and stirred it a few times before serving it to Mdm. Sweet.

He placed the mug on the computer table. “Here’s the coffee you asked for,” said Kinderella. He rolled his eyes while thinking to himself why couldn’t she do it herself.

Mdm. Sweet looked at the nicely-prepared coffee and she nodded her head. Very nicely, she thanked Kinderella. He was taken aback by her sudden niceness and stared at her. Mdm. Sweet realised her mistake and she slapped herself on her cheek. Maybe I’m not myself now, she reassured.

“The biscuits? Where are my biscuits?” she asked disdainfully. Kinderella was still unable to overcome the sudden change in her attitude and continued to stare at her rudely.

“What are you doing? Don’t just stand there and look at me! Fetch me the cookies!” Kinderella nodded apprehensively and he went to the pantry and got the biscuits she wanted. He placed some in a plate and served it to her.

Once seeing the biscuits, she smiled in content and shooed Kinderella off with a wave of her hand. Kinderella got back in his room without any further questions asked. He laid himself on the floor and tried to get back to sleep. For quite some time, he remembered tossing and turning on the floor before he sort of wavered off into slumber. The question still stayed on his mind though. Why did his dear “most of the time evil” step-mother suddenly became nice to him? Has some friendly ghost possessed her mind at that short time? Or has her guilty conscience finally caught up to her? That prominent question stayed on his mind the whole time he was awake thinking, until those thoughts themselves start to wear him out.

The winter sun has just risen, and its sunlight filtered through the dusty windows. The rays hit Kinderella’s eyes, and slowly, he opened his eyes and he took some time to let his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the room. He rubbed his eyes hard with his hands and he woke up. His vision was a bit dizzy and he placed his hands gently on his forehead.

“No, I’m not sick,” he told himself, “So why am I feeling so tired?”

He stood there wondering for a few minutes. He suddenly pointed out his index finger. “Of course! That woman wanted me to cater to her whims and whams again. She wanted me to make her coffee. No wonder I feel kind of worn out.”

He did some rather vigorous exercise in his room before going out to prepare breakfast for the day. That’s when it hit him. It was winter, and the sun doesn’t shine until eight in the morning. He rushed to the kitchen and began cracking and beating an egg while he poured milk for himself as his jumpstart breakfast.

He has not brushed his teeth yet, nor has he taken his shower. But in this household, it is a matter of life and death. And he values his life although some people are jeopardising his. He quickly dunk down the milk, and resumed cooking the pancake.

He sifted the flour, baking powder and salt while he mixed the milk with the beaten egg. He got out a frying pan, added some oil to it and then turned on the gas and lit it. Kinderella proceeded to add the egg and milk to the flour mixture in a big blue bowl and stirred them with a spatula until they are completely smooth. He added some melted butter to them and stirred again. He then poured some of the mixture over the frying pan and cooked them. When he noticed the sides getting brown, he flipped the pancake over. The greasy oil sizzled as the pancake was cooking. A couple of flips here and there, and it was done. A fresh hot pancake was guaranteed for breakfast. He continued to add more batter to the frying pan until five mouth-watering brown pancakes sat on the serving platter, tempting anyone to sink his teeth into it.

He poured some milk for his family members and set the plates, eating utensils, the pancakes and the glasses of milk beautifully on the table. He let the pancake cool for a while. He then went to the bathroom and followed his everyday morning routine. He brushed his teeth, gargled his mouth and washed his face. He then stripped out of his clothes and took a nice, warm shower. He took the opportunity to enjoy this morning luxury before his start off slaving around the house.

“La la la la la…”

He reached out his hand and tried to feel the soap bar. He only touched nothing but air. Someone must have moved it elsewhere in the bathroom, Kinderella thought. He ceased his humming and drew open the shower curtain.

He faced a grotesque face which immediately made him scream.




Kinderella closed the shower curtain with one swift motion and immediately faced himself towards the wall. “What are you doing here?” he shuddered.

“Yo, brother, you look horrendous! Anyway, you didn’t lock the door, so I thought the toilet was unoccupied. I just came in. Little did I know some Adonis is taking a shower. You scared the shit out of me you know that?” said Dean.

“You were the one who scared the bejabbers out of me!” shouted Kinderella back.

“Come on now, who wants to look at your ugly naked form?” Dean chuckled.

Kinderella’s face was flushed red. He never felt so embarrassed in his life before. Now this is what he really can call invasion of privacy, and he hated his brother for that. “Can you please get out now?” croaked Kinderella.

“Hahaha! I will, Kinder, I will! Thanks for spicing up my morning!” Dean left the bathroom and laughed his way out.

When Kinderella heard the door clicked shut, he immediately turned off the shower tap, dried himself with his favourite Mickey Mouse towel and he wrapped the towel over his waist. He was about to get his clothes when he caught sight of himself in the fogged mirror. He turned on the tap of the sink and washed some water over the mirror.

He stared at his own reflection and his body, and asked himself, “Am I really that ugly and horrendous like what Dean said?”

Kinderella began to feel a bit insecure about his looks, and the more he looked at himself, he began to observe more of his imperfections. He brushed away his light brown hair, and he noted the few pimples that dotted here and there on his youthful face. He stared at his skinny torso and his flat stomach and chest which were not chiselled unlike some of the boys he saw at school. He sighed. Shaking his head in dismay, he lifted up his arm and bent it, and using he free hand, he squeezed his biceps. He smiled. At least he has got some muscles there. Suddenly, a figure loomed over him while he was busy checking himself out. Kinderella put a hand over his heart as he reeled in from his second shock of the day.

A topless Dean smirked at him. “Ugly, yet vain.” He tsked, and shoved his useless step-brother out of his way. Kinderella quickly picked up his clothes and walked off. He admired the masculinity of Dean, yet he felt that his own step-brother is not worthy of such masculinity.

Kinderella walked towards the kitchen and was about to get his share of breakfast when his nose picked up an aromatic smell. He smiled in delight, thinking that the pancakes he had just cooked still remained hot and delicious. As he stepped into the kitchen, he realised that it was not his pancakes’ smell. He was silenced to his third shock of the day when he saw Mdm. Sweet cooking up some bacon while Aesop toasted bread.

“Ma? Why are you cooking bacons? Didn’t you see the pancakes on the table?” Kinderella pointed his index finger to the dining table.

“Kinderella, oh sweet Kinderella! You don’t cook pancakes for breakfast. It’s winter now and it’s chilly, we need more fat so that we can burn more energy to keep ourselves warm!” replied Mdm. Sweet as she tenderised some bacon while cooking some in the frying pan.

“Where are the pancakes?” asked Kinderella who was clearly insulted that no one had eaten his food.

“Oh, I told Aesop to feed it to the neighbour’s cats.” Mdm. Sweet looked at Kinderella and gave him a smile, a smile so sweet that it was disgusting itself.

Kinderella gasped. His well-prepared breakfast was instead used to fill a cat’s appetite? He could feel himself suddenly feeling a little light-headed. He approached Aesop, and asked him why his breakfast was being fed to a cat instead of them.

Aesop looked at his mother for a few seconds, and when he was sure that his mother was concentrating earnestly on her cooking, he pulled Kinderella towards the side, and whispered quickly in his ear, “Actually, I didn’t feed your pancakes to the cat. Look in the bin.”

Kinderella could swear his eyeballs did pop slightly out from their sockets when he heard the words. He stared at Aesop incredulously, and he asked him again, “Why did you do that?”

“It wasn’t my idea! Ma asked me to!”

“Ma?” asked Kinderella again, “but why?”

“She said that she is bored of eating pancakes every single day. So she decided that today was the best day for a change in breakfast. She asked me to throw them away into the bin since neither Dean nor I wanted to eat them. We can’t take them anyway!”

Kinderella croaked, “And you did so?”

Aesop nodded earnestly. Kinderella pushed him aside and plucked up the courage to confront his step-mother. It was an insult to him that she decided to throw away his wonderfully-cooked breakfast, just because she found it boring.

“By the way, your pancakes suck!” said Aesop in a hoarse voice.

Kinderella ignored Aesop’s unruly remark, and he tapped his step-mother on her shoulder. “What?”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“Lie to you about what?”

“The pancakes?” Kinderella went to the bin and pressed on the pedal. The bin cover went up and revealed its contents of five messy pancakes.

“Oh. I’m sorry, honey. But I am so sick of your stupid pancakes! Is that all you can cook for us every single breakfast, at every single morning?! Do you have any idea how it drives your brothers and I up the wall every single time we taste the same things? Can’t you cook some other things?” Mdm. Sweet asked rudely.

“Of course I can! Just tell me, I can do it. I’m your slave,” Kinderella made sure that he emphasised the word ‘slave’, “to boss around! Thanks a lot, Ma!”

“You’ll be sorry you said that!” chimed Aesop.

“Maybe you should eat the bacons so that you know what breakfast can really taste like!” shouted Mdm. Sweet.

“Forget it! I think I lost my appetite for the day!” Kinderella stormed into his room and slammed the door shut and tight. He cannot believe how terribly unfair he was treated by his family members. He kept asking himself the same question. Why him? Why was he picked on always?

Kinderella lain himself on the floor and bitterly thought again of those times when he was treated harshly. As he recalled those bitter and sour moments, he blinked momentarily and unconsciously let his tears drop on the carpeting. Of all the people, he was made to suffer, a teen slave to put it aptly. He knew he himself do not deserve it, why did he subject himself to follow their orders. He was not destined to be a slave! He is a teenager who was supposed to have some freedom and individual rights.

Many a times, he wanted to rebel against the “despots” of the house, yet he dare not himself. God knows when he does that, he will only land himself for more tortures and shameful humiliation. He pressed his hands together, and he prayed hard. He shut his eyes and said a prayer, hoping that someone up there can hear them and ease some of his miseries. Despite all what had happened to him, he never gave up his faith in God. He knows that one day, he will be saved and be freed.

After some time of prayer, he grabbed one of the comics which were scattered around his cramped room and proceeded to read it. He flipped through the pages and managed to stifle a giggle or two before he tossed the book on the floor. He always found laughter an escape from his screwed up life but unfortunately, it served as a temporary solution.

Pretty soon, Kinderella heard an engine sound of a school bus. He sighed. How he longed to get back to school once again. He was forced to drop out of high school when he finished Year 11 because according to his step-mother, they have limited finances to pay for his school fees. He could not proceed to the prestigious sixth form private college, and worse still he was barred from entering public sixth form schools due to reasons given by his step-mother which he found to be pretty lame.

It was a shame really because he was actually one of the brightest students in his class. Unfortunately, his academic performances fail to meet the expectations of Mdm. Sweet, and she would seek out to find ways to punish him for not getting ridiculously high grades for his subjects. Kinderella blinked away the tears that were forming in his eyes. He told himself that he will resume his education if he could manage to escape his hell dictated by his very own step-mother.

Kinderella unwarily dozed off to slumber, and was awakened by the knocking on his door.

“Kinderella! When I get back from work, you have better cleaned the house. Or else…”

Without waiting for a reply, Mdm. Sweet donning an azure blouse left Kinderella’s door. “Tap, tap, tap, tap…” went her black stilettos as she walked on the wooden floor. Kinderella waited until he heard the front door shut, or rather slammed. He then waited until the sound of the engine roar to life, and the blue Ford car slowly reversed out into the driveway and out to the street. With a screech of the tyres, the sports car zoomed off into the distance, sending an evil, cruel and heartless Empress Dowager off to work.

Kinderella opened his door, and peeked left and right to ensure the house was not haunted by an apparition of his step-mother’s twin sister. To Kinderella, it never hurts to be paranoid; in fact, it is better to be paranoid than sorry, because sorry can be really cruel.

Kinderella stretched his arms wide, and off he went to do his daily chores around the White residence.

(Catch Chapter 5 soon! Comments and criticisms very much welcomed =). Thanks for reading!)

[+] There's more!

21 November 2006

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:21 November 2006, 15:58
Subject: Kinderella - Chapter 3  

Kinderella - My NovelApologies if this entry came in terribly late. I feel really lazy and unmotivated lately to finish up the novel. Nevertheless, I still have to strive hard and give it my best shot to hopefully finish the novel by the 30th of this month (why oh why doesn't November have 31 days!).

Let's see, there are 10 days more left, including today. I'm about 40 000 words away from the target, so that means I need to write about...

*does the calculation*

More than 4000 words to write per day. Eeeep! *shudders* Wish me luck! And punish me if I do not make it, hahaha!

Click on No. above the Date field to view the story.

If you're eyes tire after reading such long blocks of text, I have divided this chapter into 2 halves for your convenience. Words in bold mark where the anchors lead to.

Quick Jump:
First half
Second half


Chapter 3

She washed her face in the basin, looked herself in the mirror and cautiously closed the bathroom door. She opened her drawer and picked a floral-patterned headscarf and covered her head with it. Like the more modern Muslim women, she wore it a bit back on her head and made sure her side fringe peeked out underneath the headscarf.

She grabbed the overcoat that hung at her door and projected a fiendish smile. “I’m ready,” she said with a slight hint of Persian accent. She opened the window as quietly as possible and when the coast was clear, she flung the thick brown twisted rope out of the window. Very carefully and gently, she climbed down the rope. She sweated and hoped that no one spotted her coming out of her room.

She landed on the ground with a soft thud, and pulled the rope down with ease. She coiled the rope and hid it behind the shrubbery of bougainvillea.

“It always works. Camouflages too! No one will suspect a thing, no no!”

She tiptoed to the tall gates, and she looked to her left and her right to ensure that no one must follow her. “If not, I’ll be damned,” she figured. Behind the thick shrub of ixora was a relatively small hole, but large enough for a person of her size to crawl through. She bent down and crawled through the hole with some difficulty. She grunted and she pushed herself.

Finally she was out and free once again! “But I’ve got to do something with that hole. It seems to be getting smaller and smaller.”

She walked for a few kilometres, and when she was safely out of sight, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Phew! Almost thought I couldn’t make it there!”

She put on her cheap, tacky sunglasses and blended herself in with the few pedestrians who were walking in front of her. She stopped and looked at the end of the road. A yellow taxi with a dirty exterior turned at the corner and drove towards her. As it neared her, she flagged for the taxi. It slowly halted to a stop, and the chubby driver with a bubbly face and stubbly complexion pulled down the windows.

“Where to, Miss?”

“The city,” answered the young lady. She opened the taxi door and ushered herself in.

“Yea, I know, the city is goddamn big! Can’t you precisely tell me where exactly you want me to send you?”

The woman was slightly taken aback by his rude question, but she decided to shake it off anyway. “The Open Market, please.”

And the taxi drove off, sending the leaves by the sidewalk flying and scattering in the air.

The ride to the city was tense and rather quiet, too quiet, despite the radio blasting some new rap song which words are decipherable to the passenger’s ears. The taxi driver was humming to the strange song while drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

The lady stiffened. She fidgeted for a while before plucking the courage. She sighed and proceeded to ask the taxi driver, “Wait, you actually enjoy this song?”

“Well, yeah! I love this song! And ohh, here comes the good part!”

“Shake your money maker
Like somebody's bout to pay ya
I see you on my radar
Don't you act like you're a faker

You know I got it
If you wanna come get it
Stand next to this money
Like - ey ey”
(© Ludacris – Money Maker)

“What? A money maker and some faker who stands next to the money maker? Boy, and I thought poetry was weird, but this is simply ridiculous!” Unbeknownst to her, she said that out pretty loud.

The taxi driver scorned. “Hey, don’t diss this song, man! It made it to the Top 10 charts. Shit, you conservatives are all the same. Never appreciate song such as this!”

“Oh, I’m sorry! But that is my own opinion!”

“Yea, yea, whatever!”

She slumped on the old taxi chair. She noticed that it was not maintained in top shape and she could already see tears and some stitches coming out. And it looked pretty bad too.

“This guy has seriously got issues,” she thought to herself unhappily.

She stared outside at the bungalows with beautiful lawns zooming past by. She wished that she could stay in such houses though. Unfortunately, that will never happen in a million years, and she is stuck living her rather petite life.

She watched the trees planted at the avenue and admired in awe the way the afternoon sun’s rays streaked through the branches and the leaves. She tried to identify them, unfortunately she have forgotten their names which she have learnt up for a Biology class test a couple of years ago. So much for education.

The taxi suddenly screeched to a stop. The lady passenger nearly hit herself on the front seat, but fortunately her outstretched hands have helped prevented that. She breathed heavily, and instinctively asked what had happened.

“Can’t you see the many cars in front?! We’re stuck in a stinking traffic jam!” Furiously, the taxi driver pressed the horn really hard for the few times. After that, he seemed to calm down and took out his handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped the brow of his sweating forehead and turned up the air conditioner.

The lady was once again shocked at his response. She tried to tell herself that the poor man sitting in front of her was having a pretty rough day, but apparently that did not seem to be a logical explanation. If he did have a bad day, he would not even have recited the satirical poetry aired on the radio.

The exhaust pipe of the SUV in front of the taxi blew out black smoke. How environmental unfriendly, doesn’t he know how to use unleaded gas? Horns and beeps can be heard echoing throughout the congested avenue. She realised that she had picked the wrong time to go out; it was practically rush hour when people are going home.

For about five minutes, the traffic did not even move a budge. Frustrated, the taxi driver cursed out loudly, ignoring the fact that there was a lady passenger behind him. Heck, he wondered why he picked that stray off the street. He should have just left her alone instead.

“I rather lose a customer than let a moron into my car!” he murmured.

The taxi finally moved at last, but stopped again. It barely went an inch.

“Damn! I’m stuck in a massive traffic jam, and I got dinner at six with honeybooch, and worse of all, I’m stuck with an Arab who could be a potential terrorist here! God!” he exclaimed.

“Excuse me, what did you just say?” asked the lady defiantly. “How could you insult me like that, you … you … ARGH!”

The taxi driver went silent. It looks like his big mouth had led him into big trouble, heck, he could even get fired!

“If you don’t want me, just say so!” She opened her purse and handed him fifteen dollars, “Here’s your money, and I need no change. Because I’m not riding with any racist donkeys!”

She opened the door and stepped out in the middle of the road. She purposely left the taxi door opened, why should she bother to shut it? She walked across the congested avenue and got to the other side of the sidewalk. Spying a subway, she made her way down and joined the throngs of commuters waiting at the station down underground.

When the train arrived, she immediately stepped into it. She did not bother letting the other people out first as she was too engrossed with her own thoughts of fury. “How dare he insult me like that! And I’m not even Arab either! Stupid blinking donkey! Urgh! Urgh! I cannot believe how irrational some people can be.”

She found an unoccupied seat and quickly sat down on it. She sat cross-legged and stared the business executives who tried to squeeze themselves into the packed train. On ordinary days, she will stand up and politely offer one lucky tired chap a free seat, but not today. Today, she wanted to be selfish, thanks to some taxi driver who she hoped she will never see again.

The doors closed and she lurched forward and nearly fell off her seat when the train began to run. She managed to grab onto a support and prevented herself from getting into another embarrassing accident. She had enough commotions for one day.

She stared past the man who was reading the newspaper into the running big black tunnel wall that seems to be unchanged forever. Lights in the tunnel blinked as the train travels through smoothly. Another turn here and another turn there, the lady counted the number of turns the train has taken out of boredom, and also to forget about her frustrations that afternoon. The train then slowed to a crawl as it approached the next station. She got up and alighted the train, squeezing herself through the crowd of people going against her way.

With grace, she walked up the steps back to the outside world, where she was greeted by aromatic delicious scents of food. The young woman inhaled the rich smell deeply and enjoyed the sensation. Her stomach grumbled, hungry after a long day. She strode to Sam’s Good-Old Bakery and as she was about to enter, she stopped and stared at the window. She clapped her hands when she saw her favourite fruitcakes still sitting there at the cooling display.

The small bell chimed a melodious ring when she entered the shop. The cashier looked up at her and broke into a smile.

“Hey Zuleikha, how’s it going?”

“Oh Sam, I have a pretty frustrating day. I will have two of my favourite fruitcakes please,” said the lady. She helped herself to a table, hung her overcoat in a rack, and sat. She stared longingly outside and observed how the little children play a game of tag. They seem to have so much fun, and looked happy and carefree. Oh, how she longed the days of her childhood! She will not need to worry so many unnecessary things that only encourage the growth of white hair.

Sam gently nudged Zuleikha’s shoulder. “Zul? Your cakes are ready!”

Zuleikha snapped back to reality. “Oh, really? Gee, thanks a lot Sam! I was looking forward to this the whole day!”

Sam placed the plate and a mug of hot chocolate on the table. He winked at her and bowed slightly to her.

“Sam! You even bought me hot chocolate, too! How sweet of you!”

“Anytime, Zul! You looked pretty down today, so I thought a hot drink might just do the trick.” The young lad scratched his head and grinned sheepishly.

“Sam, Sam, Sam! You’re too kind! Hey, are you free now?”

“Yea, I am. Business is rather slow now, so yes, I can definitely buy some time.”

Before Zuleikha can say anything, the tall blond guy grabbed a chair and sat near his regular customer. In fact, she was so regular that they both have befriended each other over the years.

The young lady took a bite at her cake. She savoured the sweet taste of it. She took another bite and while chewing, she asked, “Sam, do you know how some people can be total idiots?”

“Oh yea, tell me about it. Some fussy weirdo decided to drop by today. Boy, did she make my day when she refused to buy anything at all! She kept on insisting for lobster thermidor when my store sign clearly says it’s a bakery shop, not a first-class takeaway restaurant!”

“Hahaha! Really? God, did you tell her that?”

“I did!” said the exasperated shopkeeper, “All she could do was to show me a horrendous black face, and she stormed off my shop!”

“Wow! She must be super angry and terribly embarrassed!”

Sam nodded in agreement. “Hell yeah!”

Zuleikha paused for a bit. She adjusted her headscarf as she struggled to remember what she was trying to say. She bit her lower lip.

“Right. I was trying to rant to you about the stupid taxi driver who was really being a racist. Goodness! And he called me an Arab, when clearly I’m not!”

“Ouch, that hurts!”

“I got so mad, I made him stop right in the middle of a congested road and got off. I didn’t bother closing his door. Why should I, since he didn’t want to care about me! Arrrgh! Just talking about this makes so annoyed how prejudiced some people can be!”

Zuleikha slumped on the chair and took one large bite of the fruitcake sitting on the plate. How she loved to eat away the stress and fury that got entangled inside her.

Sam was about to console her when a bell chimed. He quickly stood up and apologised to Zuleikha. “Sorry! I’ve got customer! I get back to you later. In the meantime, enjoy the cake!”

Heaving a sigh, he left Zuleikha sitting alone in the corner of the shop. Zuleikha savoured the taste of the fruitcakes as she stared wistfully outside. The setting sun cast an orange blanket over the city. The children that were playing outside began to walk back to their respective houses. Streetlights automatically came on and the lights in tall office buildings shone.

Zuleikha stared in sadness as the now empty plate. I wish this plate could refill itself with more fruitcakes, she thought. In one swift motion, she got up, wore her overcoat and approached Sam. She was about to take out her wallet when Sam, who was busy entertaining the customer, politely refused.

“It’s on the house!” He winked.

Zuleikha broke into a smile. She nodded, and quickly walked off to the city’s subway. She took no chances in flagging a taxi down as she feared her driver might be that crazy racist guy again.

(Catch Chapter 4 soon! Comments and criticisms very much welcomed =). Thanks for reading!)

[+] There's more!

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:Same date as above, 12:14
Subject: Guten Tag!  

My drawing of Germany's Coat of ArmsOh my gosh! I had the most interesting day yesterday! It's really a day which is worth reminiscing to.

Yesterday morning was my very first German class! Boy, I was really nervous when I first met my German 'teacher' when she came over to my house. She wasn't really a teacher but a translator; nevertheless she can teach anyway. Bashfully, I said "Hi!" and showed her to the room. She didn't quite like the small table so she suggested instead the dining table. I don't know why I feel so embarrassed. Hehehe!

So she proceeded to begin the German lessons that I have enthusiastically looked forward to since the beginning of my holidays, and she began by teaching me the German equivalent of 'This is a hat', i.e. Es ist ein Hut. She then proceeded to teach me a few other objects. I didn't quite understand her at first because her English has an eminent German accent (no offense) which took some time for me to get used to, and she "rolled" her German pretty fast, and naturally I was confused and lost.

I noticed that she kept changing the subject from names of objects in German to conjugations in German. I'm glad that I studied my English grammar diligently. I was able to follow without much difficulty of the different forms of have and to be and whatnots in German. I cannot believe there are so many different variations which my German teacher said was stupid. Hahaha! I don't find it so though. To me, they are really unique and simply adorable!

From there, we went on to basic greetings and conversations in German, and I admit this was fun! We did conversations in a German hotel and basic questions that could be asked by ordinary Germans. I couldn't remember much from yesterday (I did write them down), but this is the only Q & A that is permanently stuck in my head.

Wie heißen Sie?
Ich heiße 'that frolicsome kid'.

I hope I got that right!

The Q & A above means "What is your name?" and "My name is that frolicsome kid." in German. Yeah! I especially love this letter ß, it looks cool on its own!

We then went on to do recaps and me pronouncing the German sentences that we learnt. We did that a few times and I find the whole thing hilarious. It's not THAT difficult to sound out the words, but I sounded the words out in an English-Hokkien way. She said it was really good for a beginner, and I was completely taken back by surprise. I have never spoken German in my entire life (okay, I did recently, but those were failed attempts in stammering out some German words). So I was both pleased and excited and I muttered a "Thanks" under my breath. I still cannot pronounce those dreaded umlauts, the same way I have difficulty with pronouncing those English diphthongs. My favourite German word that I like to say it out is eine Landkarte

Overall, I had a really good time learning German, the first lesson wasn't as hard as I imagined it would be. It still wasn't easy though, and I have difficulty in remembering a lot of German words. I look forward to my next lesson tomorrow where she promised she would teach me a couple of words to construct my very first sentences. I like it! Hopefully, I can hold fluent conversations in German in years to come and I hope I don't turn anyone away when this blog will slowly be Deustche-nised. Haha, just kidding!

Okay, so the questions that are playing in your minds now would be: Why German? Why not French, or Spanish (I'm also learning this language ad libitum by myself, with not much progress), or Japanese, or Afrikaans?

When I first heard a German audio online a few months ago (which I somehow stumbled upon), I cannot help but be enthralled by the way the female emcee was speaking. So "harsh and guttural", yet beautiful in its own way. That was my first crush on German. As I became more and more jobless on the Internet, I stumbled on many other German sentences and I like the way how the nouns are capitalized and the way the verb is oddly placed at the end of the sentence. I could even understand some of the words! I later found out in Wikipedia that English shares the same roots as German as they both belong to the Germanic language family. Music theory also contains some German classical musics which I have to analyse and answer, so German might be helpful there. And I just like the language!

All these little reasons ignite me to learn German, but I don't know why I have gotten so insane just thinking about them! It's odd really and I cannot explain it myself. One thing leads to another, and here am I satisfied that I finally am beginning to devour German.

So the next time if you are interested to take up another language, I suggest you do German. Why? Because I'm biased, of course!

Oh, and yesterday, I went out with two of my girlfriends (no, not my lovey-dovey ones) and we window shopped around a place where it isn't infested with teens. I'm so sick of going to the teenagers' hotspot in the country where I feel out of place and feel tired seeing the people I know there. It was fun although we didn't really do much. Mostly it's just bonding time. I feel so out of place standing in expensive boutiques and female shoe shops =\. But never mind.

I can't wait till tomorrow! Tomorrow's the day when I will get my dreaded report book and also my next German class. Yahoo! And sigh, I really don't feel like picking up my NaNoWriMo novel again. I'm really lagging too far behind to catch up, although I feel my story is really starting to shape up. I might try again later. Or not.

I catch you guys later! =)

[+] There's more!

19 November 2006

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:19 November 2006, 21:51
Subject: Anger  

Aaarrrgggghhhh!!!Yesterday, I was unlucky enough to meet two very angry people. Luckily, I was able to keep my cool despite their anger influencing my unstable emotions. It wasn't a pretty sight, and I tried to cool them down.

The first fuming person who I encountered was my team mate in an inter-school competition finals. It was about some computer studies quiz which was pretty tough even for the participants, and the audience there. So this girl here, my team mate, answered questions (in MCQ form) directed at her wrongly. In fact, she didn't managed to answer all of them correctly and she was unable to buzz in quick enough for the speed round. In short, she felt she has let her school down horribly and disappointed with her performance. Her anguish very quickly turned into anger and I think she started to blame herself as our school got last position in the finale, but third nationwide.

I don't blame her for messing up badly on the real day. I really sympathized for her as the questions directed at her were pretty tough, even my brain couldn't process an answer. It was bad, hard really. There was one question which every computer student should know, but she couldn't answer that. It was ironic that she was enrolled into the finals by a computer teacher at my school although she didn't take up Computer Studies. She even questioned that herself. But I think that the computer teacher knows that she has the potential and ability to remember all the computer facts (just because she was competent with HTML, CSS, some Flash and Adobe Photoshop).

So after the result was announced, we went off the stage formally. A staff there ushered us to an exit which no one took except for us. Her face "scrunched up" into many frowns and I was starting to worry that she was about to blow! She hit the door that leads to another room with her fist, pretty strongly in fact. Thank goodness she didn't hurt herself. I can only do nothing but keep quiet and try not to worry too much about her as it was normal for people to let out their frustrations that way. Knowing her tempers, I was surprised that it sort of escalated to that level. Later on, I tried to console her by telling her not to worry too much about it, that everything that we were stressing so much about is over etc. It didn't quite work as she had totally fogged up her thoughts with anger. At least she still can control her temper and talk quite normally, except that she was more frank, direct and a bit rude.

I tried consoling her from time to time after the competition, and I think it sort of worked. She slowly cooled herself down and slowly recovered, although I knew deep inside, she was still worked up. Luckily, our teachers didn't say much. At least they didn't expected so much!

Seeing her getting worked up at how much she messed up the quiz, I can't help but remember what happened many years ago when I was in Primary 5. I could almost relate my experience to hers. It was during an inter-school Maths competition finals. Sadly, I was able to answer one question on the real day and even that question was answered with the help secretly offered by my team mate (he wasn't supposed to as it was an individual round, and no team discussion is allowed). I just stared and blinked for the whole of the competition. It was really embarrassing. I feel so useless on that day. It made the courses on mental arithmetic that I took redundant, and it sort of knocked on my confidence for Mathematics. My school won anyway, no thanks to me.

The next year, I was once again invited or rather "forced" to join the competition but I backed off this time. I knew I wasn't capable for such mathematical-intensive competitions. Indirectly, I told the teacher-in-charge that I express no intention to join on that year. That angered him, and he told me that he would give me several days to think through it. When the days were up, I got pretty scared and somehow I went to toilet and that was the time he came to my class to look for me. I wasn't there, and I remember one of my friends telling me that he was really really mad and even cursed me (or something less harsher, I really don't know). I have never felt so intimidated in my life. He never forced me to join again, as he can't do anything anymore. That really make me start to dislike Maths even more and I felt quite incompetent when it comes to doing calculations. I tried avoiding meeting him as I walk past him. It was scary I tell you. Lucky for me I moved to my present school the next year, and I can't tell you how very relieved I am of not seeing him again.

So yes, I can relate myself to her situation. Teachers who expect things highly from us make situations worse, but fortunately for her, it wasn't really the case. She's okay now, and I'm glad that she is!

The second person who got enraged yesterday was my very own little brother. According to him, he got mad because his online game kept 'lagging' (he kept putting the blame on the Internet connection, but I blame the game's server/spyware/adware) and he got disconnected several times. Finally, his patience running thin, he acted up and hit on his keyboard and system unit very hard. I didn't know what had came to him until he came to my room frowning and in a state of depression and tried in vain the game again with my mother's laptop. I guessed that it didn't work as he stormed out again to watch TV. I scolded him for getting angry over little things. I should have kept my mouth shut.

He wasn't feeling entertained of course. When it was time to go out and cycle, he went out and cycled very very slowly in a bad mood. It was a very endearing seeing my brother who is normally cheerful and happy to be very angry over a game. He's a violent kind of person actually, but he sometimes ensure that his temper is kept in check. I dare not or rather was too lazy to console him, but I was worried about him at the same time. I ended up chatting with him online even though he was a few inches away using the laptop. I felt more comfortable chatting with him than confronting him and asking what's wrong. Eventually, he found other things to entertain himself and he then forgot what got him so worked up!

It's really interesting but scary (of course!) to see how people let out their anger. Some hit on something, some like to shout out, some like to cuss and swear constantly (mantra to cure anger), some rather suppress it and hope the anger would go away (like me), some show anger on their face and stay silent throughout their anger (like me), some like to scapegoat (like me), some spill out their anger on their friends and close ones (like me) and some even want to chronicle their anger on their diary/blog (like me!). I know one who tried to smile when she is angry!

How many times did that 'like me' phrase appear? *chuckle*

Anger isn't a very nice feeling to experience, and it's not fun to encounter angry people. I wish I know how to cool people down from their flared anger. I couldn't really do that, and more often than not it only made them more angry! I can get angry pretty easily too, even over the most menial things, I admit. But now, I try to control my anger and make sure they don't affect the people around me but I fail sometimes.

Being angry means that anger can cloud your sane consciousness and you might do really stupid or foolish things that you will end up regretting later. It happened to me a few times.

But then it's only human to be angry, isn't it? Patience is the key to manage one's anger. I salute to those who can do so! I can't! Hehe...

[+] There's more!

16 November 2006

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:16 November 2006, 11:54
Subject: Ignorance isn't always bliss  

I'm kind of peeved that the web browsers in my PC kept on crashing for no reason, and thus the blog post that I have written is lost forever. And I have to retype everything again. Luckily, I didn't say much over there. Let's hope my mom's laptop I'm using now can last.

I'm sorry for not blogging for about a week or so. I wasn't home from Wednesday to Saturday as I went out of country to Sabah for a school holiday excursion trip. It was really fun. And for these past few days, I wasn't really in a mood to blog nor even bother to complete my 50 000 worded novel. That's bad. I feel so unmotivated to come back and find out that I'm already a few thousand words behind the recommended milestone I should achieve, and now it's getting worse. I'm already 10 000 words behind! It's frustrating really, and November is about to reach its 3rd week.

In this blog post, I want to vent out some of the frustrations I had yesterday from chatting with a certain girl. I shall give you some background knowledge on her. Two years ago, I had had quite a crush on this girl and set up a rendezvous with her at the library. In the presence of my best friend (I brought him along to give me moral support), I told her I like her, and she fled the scene. And I was heartbroken of course, as I took it as a sign that she didn't fancy me. So gradually, my feelings towards her slowly dwindle down even though we still remain as friends.

This year, she moved to another school and I remained in my school happily living my life. It was only a few months ago that she IM-ed me, finally telling me that she did indeed like me, but it was really too late for me, us to do anything because I totally have no more feelings for her. I appreciate the fact that she found the courage to tell me after all these years but I wonder what her intention was. She told me all this after she poured over her dilemma to me, saying that some guy 2 years younger than her fancied her, even loved her (talk about instant romance development). So she asked me for advice and I couldn't really give any proper ones because I have never ever experienced having a girlfriend yet. I do have a couple of crushes, but somehow, nothing work (I'm doomed to be a bachelor LOL!).

So I told her to dump him asap, seeing that she doesn't even like that guy and doesn't even know him that well(she knew him through her friend's friend). I really don't know why but she obligingly stuck by to him for a couple of months as she dare not break up with him although I have told her countless times to do so. She kept updating me with the news of how she was still with him and to be honest, I really am bored with hearing it and told her the same thing: break up with him.

She finally did recently, but the poor lovesick boy pestered her by miss calling her. It's sad, really. I wonder if he got the message that the girl doesn't like him. It takes two hands to clap, you know. Yesterday, she went on to tell me how busy she is now after her exams; she took part in many many academic competitions because she wanted her "sports house to win". I admit that it sound really impressive, although deep inside me I was jealous of her. You see, we used to be academic rivals. She took the top spot of the class while I am just behind her.

She got herself into such a busy mess, right? So why, oh why, does she have to rely on me to give her the points for her debate and her speech? I don't get it, she IS indeed smarter than me, so why does she rely on me instead of herself? I know I sound like a selfish guy and not being a very good altruist, but hey, I think she doesn't want to move that big brain of hers up there. Ha, you know what's worse? She decided to call me this Sunday (or some day) and expect answers from me. Whoah, that's getting a little bit too much ma'am!

I don't know why this time, she didn't want to pester other people besides me. I have noticed that she had started to take advantage of me last year (although not as much as others) by copying my homework, asking for help and do her academical whims and whams. Is it because she still thinks I am in love with her? No way, no more!

Okay, this sucks. I don't even know what I'm rambling about. I just don't want to help her at all, since it's her problem not mine! I might help her a little bit if only she already has come up with points and wants my suggestions for more.

In the end, we came to that "agreement" and I closed the chat window. I was busy chatting with some other friends online when suddenly, her window popped up, saying "HEY DARLING, PLEASE HELP ME!" I should be flattered, but I'm more grossed out and I feel even more compelled to not help her. So I was about to tell her off when she said that it was her friend who typed. I was pretty much enraged, but I kept those to myself. First of all, why does she tell her friend who I don't know that she used to like a guy who liked her? Her friend even called me by my name. And her friend went on to ask me what my fancy MSN handle means when I sort of ignored her because I don't get what she was talking about. Arrogantly, she quickly concluded that I don't even know what it means. Hello? I know what it means okay, I just don't get what you're typing! I felt such like an idiot, and was about to ignore both of them when she said bye. So bye, *@#$%!

What am I supposed to do when she calls me? Ignore her? Help her? Say "I havent't thought of anything yet?" (planning to use this excuse)? Arghhh, I'm so frustrated! Since when has her debate became my debate. I feel like a fool. And then on that day itself, her pleading voice might swoon me all over again.

Maybe it's the holiday bug that bit me.

Or not.

I don't feel like getting involve with her life anymore. I know that's pretty mean and drastic and she didn't do anything to "hurt" me. I don't know. Somehow, deep inside me, I just dislike her...

I hope she wouldn't keep to her word and so don't call me. Or even worse, come to my house and ask for help. I would not answer the door but my mom would be there and she will make me entertain and help my guests.

This is stupid...Help?

[+] There's more!

7 November 2006

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:7 November 2006, 12:40
Subject: Dona Nobis Pacem  

Dona Nobis Pacem, by me!

The world has already seen so many violence and disturbances this past few years. World peace can only be achieved if people are willing to give up their own prejudices and accept people as who they are, not what they are. In that context, I meant in terms of race, sex, social status, religion etc.

If only prejudices can be eradicated (or at least minimised), people will be less suspicious of one another and are more willing to open up their arms. If this can happen, world peace can almost always be easily achieved and people can cooperate and work together, we can do so many wonderful things which can make this world a better place to live in.

Happy Dona Nobis Pacem Day, and thank you so much Mimi for thinking up of this splendid idea!

[+] There's more!

From:that frolicsome kid
To:Whom this may concern
Date:Same date as above, 12:28
Subject: Kinderella - Chapter 2  

Kinderella - My NovelClick on No. above the Date field to view the story.

This is an advance update as I won't be here from tomorrow onwards to Sunday. See you guys later!

If you're eyes tire after reading such long blocks of text, I divided this chapter into 2 halves for your convenience.

Quick Jump:
First half
Second half


Chapter 2

Good morning, Teddy!”

The lazy youth got out of bed and drew the cute, pinkish brocade curtains away. She opened the rose window and with one deep breath, she inhaled the fresh morning air which scent always leaves a tingle at her nose. She feigned a big yawn and stretched her arms out wide. Rubbing her droopy eyes hard, she managed to open them but squinted as the bright sun rays entered her eyes.

Amy Charming waved happily at the sky. “Good morning Sun!” she greeted. The bird that was sitting on her window sill nearly fell and flew away; probably it was frightened by her loud yapping so early in the morning. The messy-haired girl chuckled at herself.

“And a very good morning to me!” she cried. And she ran towards her queen-sized bed and she climbed on top of it. With jubilance she jumped on it while shouting at the top of her lungs, as if she was having the fun of her lifetime. Like a buoyant person she is, she bounced on her bed and pulled off some pretty impressive stunts which she has been doing almost every morning.

After Amy spent some energy on her daily morning regime, she stopped and sat on her bed. A smile began to purse on her lips and her eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. Cautiously, she tiptoed to her desk and pounced on the blue swivel chair. She sat and played with it for a while and turned and turned until she got dizzy. She then stood up unsteadily and she put her hand over her forehead to recover from her dizziness. After several moments, she managed to set her bearings straight and quietly sat on the chair.

“Hmmm…” she placed her fingers on her lips, “what am I supposed to do again?”

Her eyes averted to the monitor screen. “Oh right…” Immediately, she perked up and moved her mouse with frenzied motions. In an instant, her computer came to life…slowly. She groaned.

“Next time, I just shut down my PC instead of hibernating it. Booting up is much faster than watching a PC processing at a snail’s pace.” She made a mental note of it.

She opened up her favourite web browser, Mozilla Firefox, and typed in the website address of eBay with her well-manicured fingers and hit Enter.

The familiar eBay web page loaded into view. She hovered her mouse over the My eBay link. She muttered a small prayer in one breath, and clicked on it. She watched in anticipation as the ‘My eBay Summary’ page was loading unusually sluggishly. “Damn, can’t you go any faster? I have a busy day here,” she complained at the monitor screen. Her patience was starting to wear thin.

“There it is, the final moment!”

The page was loading, loading, loading and…

“Oh crumbs! Doesn’t anyone like my Gucci original handbag? It’s like, the prettiest thing on Earth, how can any girl resist it and not buy it from me? It’s not like my price was that exorbitant!”

Click, click, click.

“Oh, stupid much?! I can’t believe I accidentally set the price to 10k! No wonder not even one would dare to even have a peek at this world wonder!” She half-wished an idiotic mogul would buy it from her, but alas, no mogul is ever that idiotic yet. They would rather buy ten of those from the Gucci retailers instead of her.

A soft knock came from the door.

“Yes, yes, Fifi! I’m coming down! And yes, I’m aware that breakfast is getting cold, and Mother dearest is pestering me to hurry up!”

“Just how did you know that?” the heavily accented voice asked from outside.

“Well, let’s just say I’m psychic,” Amy rolled her eyes. In one swift motion, she stripped down to her lingerie and stepped into her marble floored bathroom which was not surprisingly bigger than most of her friend’s room. Her bedroom is already the biggest among all of her friends, even her whole school! She took her toothbrush and squeezed the Darlie toothpaste tube a bit too hard. The toothpaste missed the head of her toothbrush and it fell into the basin.

She grumbled loudly and tried again one more time. This time, only a bit of the toothpaste came out. Her patience running thin, she swiped it on the toothbrush and proceeded to brushing her teeth. As she was doing so, she walked to the shower stall. She gritted the head of the brush hard and held it firmly in between her teeth as she tried to reach the shower cap that was hanging high inside the stall. She wavered her arms until she felt the rubbery texture. Easing herself back, she turned on the knob to let lukewarm water fall and caress her naked self. She then gripped the toothbrush that was in her mouth with her right hand, and manoeuvred the brush around her teeth.

After a minute of brushing, she spitted the contents onto the floor and it lazily drained away. Lifting her face up, her mouth went open and the water collected in it. She rinsed and spitted the water out and repeated this action for a couple of times. She squeezed a small amount of her shower gel onto a sponge, and lathered her wet and now slippery body with her calloused hands. It was done rather too quickly and carelessly, and soon, she stepped out of the steamy shower stall. She quickly dried herself with a towel and ran to her walk-in closet.

“If only mornings are slower,” she complained, “then I can take my own sweet time to choose the perfect dress.”

Fifi, her personal maid, knocked on her door once again. “Hurry up, Miss Amy, she is about to leave soon.”

All Amy heard were muffled sounds, but she knew she was being ordered to hurry up. “I hate to do this, but I’m racing against time,” she told herself.

She closed her eyes and covered it with both her hands. Exhaling, she hoped that she knew what she was doing. Unsteadily, she walked towards a corner of her closet. Flinging her arms out, she tried to feel an outfit, any random outfit that she will be wearing on that day. Her hand touched something smooth, and she gently felt the material.

“Oh well, here goes nothing,” she prayed, and pulled out the dress she had randomly felt.

She opened her eyes, and gasped at the horrendous pinafore dress with a cerulean-chequered design.

“Oh no, not this dress! I so, so hate this dress! It’s like sooo…granny’s time. Is there a way to choose again? And why did I still leave it in my wardrobe collection?”

She stood there for a few minutes deciding whether she will wear the old-fashioned dress or not. “Damn, no time! I’ll have to stick to it. I hate you, FCUK!” she said.

There was not much time left, she felt she was already very late for school. With some difficulty, she managed to fit into the dress, buttoned up the pinafore and quickly brushed her auburn hair in front of the vanity table, and decided to sport pigtails.

“Ouch! Ouch! That hurts,” she winced in pain as she combed her hair.

She tied them messily and left her room hastily. Without meaning to do it, she slammed the door shut really hard, and it closed with a loud “KA-BLANG!” followed by a muffled crash and tinkles of glass. “Damn, that’s the fifth time the door made the stupid flower picture fall on the floor.”

She strode across the long corridor with large tall Victorian windows, and along the way, she met Fifi. “Fifi, oh Fifi, can you please clean up my room now, and oh, replace the picture again.”

“Oui, Miss Amy,” came the curt reply. She bowed down to Amy and walked away to do her daily chores.

“Cut it out with the title thing! Amy would just do.”

Amy walked down the elegant and expensively-decorated stairs, and towards the rather elongated dining room. She walked towards her mother who was sitting at the other end of the room, eating her breakfast with style and dignity.

“Good morning, Mother!” Amy pecked a kiss on her mother’s forehead

Her mother kissed her lovingly on her cheek. “And a very good morning to you, sweetie! Come, you must have your breakfast!”

She pointed to the other end of the very long table, where a plate of pancakes and orange juice sat on the white-laced tablecloth to tell her daughter that her meal was served there.

“Huh? Mother, I thought we were running late. And what’s up with you telling me to eat breakfast when clearly, it’s already late!” exasperated Amy.

“Tut-tut-tut, dear! Calm down! You rush too much,” said her poised mother, “You need to buy some time to eat your breakfast, you know! Breakfast is one of the most important meals that you must never ever miss as it’s bad for your health, and you will feel tired.”

“But you were the one who was rushing me, and now you’re telling me to slow down and smell the … pancakes?” asked Amy, who was now clearly all confused and annoyed.

Her mother gestured the butler to direct Amy to the end of the table. Amy followed him without much protest, and she went to sit down.

“Wasn’t here the place where I came I?” asked Amy to no one in particular.

Before the butler have the chance to politely pull the chair and let her sit, Amy had already seated herself and was seen gobbling down her meal hungrily.

The dignified mother of 50-something curiously looked at her daughter’s table etiquette. It’s so sloppy, so unladylike and so barbaric! She placed her eating utensils neatly on the table, and whispered, “Amy dear! Amy!”

Amy continued eating, but slowed down a bit as she struggled to swallow the large pieces of pancakes she stuffed into her mouth. With one big gulp, the bolus of the pancake travelled down slowly the oesophagus into her stomach by the painstakingly slow action of peristalsis. She stopped, and resumed after her throat was cleared once again. At that instant, she heard her name reverberating in the dining room.

“Amy! Amy! AMY!”

She looked at her mother. “Sorry Mother, I was too busy eating breakfast! Say, this is pretty good! Tell the Chef for me will ya?” The butler merely nodded his head.

Amy then looked at her mother. She was clearly bemused when the fine old queen cupped her fair delicate ears with her hands. It was clear she could not hear her daughter’s voice. Amy tried again, this time a little bit louder.

“Sorry Mother, I was too busy eating breakfast!”

Her mother shook her hands near her ear, gesturing her daughter that she still could not hear her. Amy took a deep breath, and with all her might, she asked her mother, “Can you hear me?”

Her mother gave an excited nod. She then said something to Amy, but all Amy could hear was her moving mouth and changing facial expressions as well as words unintelligible to her ears.

“Mother? Say what?” asked Amy in a really loud voice.

Her mother continued talking away, except that her voice somehow could not reach to the young, hyper adolescent’s ears. Annoyed, Amy called for the butler. The butler saw her gesturing for him, and he rushed towards her.

Amy quickly said, “Can you please pass this message to Mother: I simply cannot hear you!”

The butler nodded, and he ran to the other end of the especially long table, which can seat about 35 people on the longer side. The butler huffed and puffed and finally reached the end of the really long table. In an exhausted voice, he told the queen the message her daughter wanted to convey. President Charming then understood why her daughter was giving her blur looks when she educated her on the importance of having a good breakfast. She summoned up some energy and tried to make her voice a little bit louder, “I got your message.”

“Good!” shouted back Amy, “so what was it you wanted to tell me?”

“Importance of breakfast!” replied her mother. Her voice by now was getting raspier but she continued. “Amy, you know that you have slept through the night without eating anything…”

“Yes, Mother, so that I need to eat breakfast to replenish my body with nutrients,” Amy continued her sentence. She rolled her eyes, and poked the now-empty palette in front of her with the knife.

“Honey, can you speak up? I can’t hear you.”

“I said that I need breakfast to replenish my body with nutrients after a long night of not eating!” shouted Amy, who by now was clearly annoyed that a ‘normal’ morning conversation turned into a cacophony of loud echoes.

“Yes, Amy! You are absolutely right! And also, the breakfast that you take in…”

Before she has the chance to complete her sentence, she coughed hard and quickly downed the glass of orange juice sitting on the table. Amy looked at her sympathetically. I wonder how long will she subject herself to such torture of destroying her voice box, thought Amy.

“Sorry, honey. Anyway, like I was saying…”

She then coughed again. She ordered the butler standing near her to get her another glass of juice, and signalled to her daughter to tell her to wait for a while. Amy shook both her legs under the table and rolled her eyes again, wondering how long this conversation will last.

A few minutes later, the butler came to her and passed her the message her mother wanted to say, “Miss Amy, she said that the breakfast you take in during the day will provide you the energy to keep going during the day. Without it, you will be out like a light.”

Amy stood up and placed her arms in akimbo. “I know! I know! But why must she keep on repeating this to me? And stop calling me Miss, I told you that already!” The butler flustered, and quickly he went to the president to pass her daughter’s message.

Several minutes later, the butler came back saying, “Lady Charming feels that,” he hesitated, “Amy needs to be reminded of this constantly. She believes it’s good for you.”

“Good for me? Well, yeah, I know that like a gazillion years ago!” she snapped at the butler. The poor butler had to go back to the poignant lady again. Back and forth he walked, or rather he ran, as he was ordered to pass messages back and forth a few times before Amy finally said, “No need, I shall do it myself.”

When she approached her mother after what seemed like a long walk, the tall, greyed haired president stood up from her chair. The butler quickly pulled the chair away. President Charming merely gave a nod and blissfully said to her precious, “Alright. It’s time to go to school. Come on!”

“Mother, I hate to be rude. But I feel I must say this!”

The Queen looked at her full with concern. “Now, now Amy, what is it? Does this have anything to do with the breakfast trivia?”

Amy shuffled her feet. Without warning, she cried, “Can’t you do something about the DARNED TABLE? It’s driving me up the wall!”

She frowned at Amy, shocked by her ‘explicit’ behaviour. She half-expected her to be upset about her breakfast talk show. “You don’t need to be so rude, young lady! And yes, I will inform the butler to purchase a smaller table to replace the really long table as soon as possible. It’s annoying me as well.”

“Actually Mother, can’t you just reposition my seating so that I’m closer to you.”

The president laughed at her daughter’s simple, yet effective suggestion. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”

“But I LOVE your idea SO MUCH! Bye now, hugs and kisses! Mwah, mwah! See you in the afternoon!”

Correction: Towards the end of the Prologue, Melissa was supposed to say “You know what? You're a stinking VIP: Very Idiotic Person!” and not “You know what, princess? You’re a loser!”. I made this change because somehow the story evolved into something else.

(Catch Chapter 3 this Sunday! Comments and criticisms very much welcomed =). Thanks for reading!)

[+] There's more!