clownfunding

#21: Bawang Putih, Bawang Merah: Reloaded

Once upon a time long before renowned physicist Richard Feynman first discussed the concepts of what later became nanotechnology in 1959,[1] there lived two sisters in a remote village.

The elder sister was named Bawang Putih, Malay for garlic, and the younger sister was named Bawang Merah, which is Malay for shallot.

Every day, they would help their mum at the…

Oh, never mind.

The readers should really just read ‘Cinderella’ and be done with it, because it’s basically the same story but with a better name for its main character.

The End (of this book).

NOTES:
[1] ‘There’s Plenty of Room at the Bottom’ (1959). Feynman described the possibility of synthesis via direct manipulation of atoms. Apparently.

#20: Raja Bersiong: Reloaded

Long before the fall of Berlin Wall,[1] there lived a king who became famous for his penchant for fine dining with a slight twist.

One Sunday morning, the king got up from his bed after a delicious lie-in while listening to Red Dragon FM,[2] and ordered the kitchen staff to prepare a gorgeous serving of ratatouille for brunch.

In his haste to prepare the King’s dish, the chef, whom we shall call Steve Bruce, accidentally cut his finger, causing blood to drip into the food. Pressed for time and unable to prepare another dish, Steve Bruce quickly plated the ratatouille in the most appetizing way he could and watched in trepidation as the King savoured the dish.

“Marvellous! This ratatouille is absolutely sensational!” remarked the elated king. “I want exactly the same dish tomorrow,” he told the Steve Bruce.

The next day, Steve Bruce duly prepared the meal, but when the king took a mouthful, he frowned and summoned Steve Bruce immediately.

“What is this? I wanted the same dish as yesterday. How come it is not as tasty?” There’s in consistency in its taste, you are not elevating the meal sufficiently, and it’s lacking a certain je ne sais quoi. Compared to yesterday’s splendid fare, today’s dish is just vile!” the king ranted.

The cook stammered and promptly rushed out of his kitchen another dish of the same ingredients, prepared to perfection.

Or so he thought.

The King took a spoonful, and swiftly spat it out. “I want the same dish as yesterday! Not similar, not comparable and certainly not almost-identical. I want exactly the same dish!” he roared.

Thoroughly scared and soiling his pants slightly, Steve Bruce – who was rumoured to have cut his teeth in the culinary world as a Sous Chef at London’s Gymkhana[3] before being appointed Executive Chef at the castle – broke down and confessed that the other day he had cut his hand and a drop of blood was mixed with the food.

Expecting the worst of fate to befall him, the cook was surprised when the King ordered that from that day forth blood be added to his meal each time food was prepared. He also decreed that human blood – and he wasn’t too fussed if it was Group A, B, AB or O – was to be made available from his subjects.

So the king indulged in his gastronomic delights for months on end, with blood extracted from his people and added to his favourite dishes.

Conveniently enough for the purpose of this story, the king soon sprouted fangs, and became known as Raja Bersiong.[4] He continued with his addiction, and after a while, his behavior was becoming a bit dodgy. The whole became compulsive and – if reports on CNN are to be believed – was beginning to interfere with his health.

Prisoners were executed for blood, which was initially thought to be a neat solution to the prison overcrowding issue. However, this was criticised as being inhumane and drew a lot of flak from international NGOs.

Obviously the ordinary people were also expected to do their bit, and they were becoming increasingly testy as no men, women and children were spared. Some of them started to flee country, gave up their citizenship and sought asylum in the USA – and these people didn’t even write naughty blogs!

Soon, conscription or drafting system was installed, and compulsory enlistment of people for blood donation was gazette as national service. Except there was no war to fight.

His subjects were at first fearful and endured this dreadful ordeal. However, as more and more people lose their blood without being compensated properly, they started plotting to turn against the king in defiance.

In the middle of this troublesome period, Steve Bruce – the chef, in case you have forgotten about him – was feeling a bit guilty as he watched the atrocities unfold. He knew that he must do something quick before more people ended up being tortured for blood or worse, die.

He came up with a cunning plan to spike the king’s next meal and procured some particularly potent poison at the market. One day, when the king and his advisors were out for a charity golf event, Steve Bruce cooked the king’s favourite Kolhapuri Chicken Curry and the equally formidable Murgh Makhanwala, and put in some poison in the dishes.

When the King arrived back at the castle – elated after having improved his handicap – he immediately asked for lunch to be served.

To make the story more interesting, a bumbling waiting staff carrying the dishes tripped over the king’s favourite cat, a shortsighted Australian Mist fondly known as ‘Ronaldo’. He fell over and spilled the dishes already fortified with a cocktail of exotic pesticides. The murder attempt was thwarted by the incompetence of the chef’s own staff.

Unfortunately, Ronaldo ate the spilled curry dishes and instantly gave up the ghost, as if he was hit by the Avada Kedavra spell by Lord Voldemort.

The king immediately figured out that the food was poisoned and the chef was trying to kill him. The king ordered the chef to be executed at once, and naturally, his blood was used as a key ingredient in the next toasted fermented corn brioche with burnt leeks and slow-poached duck egg prepared by the kitchen.

The people were not amused and finally had enough of the king’s antics. They decided to never again live in fear and stood up against the king.

Inspired by the Arab Spring, the people demanded their very own version of glasnost and Perestroika, which they felt would liberate the scared and scarred people. Led by a former union activist, the mob staged a coup, armed with nothing more than chopsticks and some foreign coins. Evidently, this was enough to worry the king. Fearing for his life, he fled the country, moved to France and changed his name to Louis de Pointe du Lac.

No one really knew what happened to him after that, until he made a high profile cameo appearance in the mid 90s, in an American romantic horror film, ‘Interview with a Vampire: The Vampire Chronicles’, using a new pseudonym, Brad Pitt.

After a string of moderate success in the local theatre productions, he was rumoured to have been contracted to make a guest appearance in one of the Harry Potter movies. He eventually declined, after fracturing his ribs in a rugby match, and was apparently replaced by his cousin, Professor Snape.

The (abrupt) End.

NOTES:
[1] In fact, this was long before there ever was a Berlin Wall.
[2] Former incarnation of South Wales’ No. 1 Hit Music Station, Capital FM, which broadcasts to Cardiff, Newport and the surrounding areas from studios in Cardiff Bay.
[3] Try the Fried South Indian chicken wings and the tandoori-seared guinea fowl breast for a bedazzling gastronomic experience. Don’t expect your usual nasi daun pisang fare.
[4] Literally, ‘Fanged Monarch’.

#19: Si Tanggang: Reloaded

Tanggang lived with his mother in a dilapidated wooden house, after his father was eaten alive by an ill-tempered tiger. They were so poor that Tanggang had to drop out of high school, and that put paid to his ambitions to become a world-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon.

Tanggang was very close to my mother and he could see how much his mother had sacrificed to give him a comfortable life. He promised himself that he would one day get a good job to improve their lot in life. He swore that he would take care of his mother without employing a foreign maid.

One day, a ship arrived from a distant land and cast its anchor off the beach near where Tanggang lived. As luck would have it, the crew held, among other things, a recruitment drive for suitable candidates aged sixteen and above, regardless of previous qualifications and work experience, to join the ship as an apprentice.

Having read the brochure, Tanggang figured that this was the opportunity he’s been waiting for. He could graduate with a Diploma in Marine Engineering and, more importantly, get the hell out of the depressing village.

He begged his mother to allow him to join the crew to sail and seek his fortune and a better life. Despite her misgivings and initial objection, Tanggang’s mother finally relented and tearfully gave her blessings and prayed for his safe return.

Years passed and there was not a single word from Tanggang. There was not even a postcard, and his mother could only assume that Tanggang was having a good time in some white, sandy beaches, and enjoying a spot of Western decadence, debauchery and hedonism in general.

The truth was much simpler, less immoderate and certainly less lecherous than his prolonged absence may have suggested. Tanggang was actually busy working on the ship as apprentice.

He started as a rigger and moved on to become a bosun, and finally a marine engineer after he completed the requisite on-the-job training in a shipbuilding discipline and specialised engineering work rotations.

Along the way, he fell in love with the ship captain’s daughter, Cheryl Cole, and married her. When his father-in-law was tragically eaten by an octopus in a water skiing accident, Tanggang took over the ship as the Skipper by a unanimous vote by his shipmates.

Several more years passed, and a ship cast its anchor at the same spot off the beach near Tanggang’s village. The crew did some trading with the locals, and words began to spread that the young Captain was, in fact, Tanggang, the village’s own long lost son.

Tanggang’s mother was elated to learn that the captain on the ship was none other than her beloved son who had been gone for many years. Overjoyed, she cooked and packed Tanggang’s favourite food, cek mek molek,[1] and she then rowed her sampan to the ship.

When the boat neared the ship, the crew informed the captain. Tanggang came to take a look, with Cheryl Cole by his side.

“Tanggang! This is your mother! I have missed you so much!”

Tanggang was discombobulated and mortified at the sight of his old mother. He was also feeling slightly guilty for not inviting her to his lavish wedding reception in Florida.

“Who is that, my dear?” asked Cheryl Cole.

Tanggang quickly regained his composure and responded, “Oh, she’s just an old woman probably trying to sell us an insurance policy.”

“Tanggang, don’t you recognise your own mother anymore? I have brought you your favourite cek mek molek,” his mother implored.

Embarrassed at being offered such pedestrian and fattening fare, Tanggang and barked, “How dare you call me ‘son’? My name is Louis Van Gaal and I don’t even know you. What do you want from me?”

“What did you just say, Tanggang? How could you forget your own mother?” his mother said in tears.

By this time, the mother is completely distraught and said, “You must be ashamed of me in my rags, now that you’ve hit the big time and you have a beautiful wife. Don’t you remember those years when I took care of you?”

“Go away, you impertinent old woman! Don’t you dare set food on my ship or I will punish you!” yelled Tanggang.

“Are you sure that’s not your mother?” asked a rather nonplussed Cheryl Cole.

“I’m pretty sure she’s not. I’m half-Korean, and she doesn’t even look remotely Korean,” retorted Tanggang.

Now thoroughly humiliated and utterly crushed, Tanggang’s mother slowly rowed her sampan away from the ship, crying in silence.

As the ship was about to set sail the next day, Tanggang’s mother – now royally cheesed off with his attitude – whispered a quiet prayer to herself. “Oh God, please show my son how wrong he was to have hurt his mother like this.”

The sky promptly grew dark and the wind started to whip up a perfect storm. Tanggang’s ship got a real shellacking from the furious vortex and soon capsized. The ship, the entire crew and Cheryl Cole turned to stone.

Tanggang howled in repentance, “Forgive me, Mother, for I have sinned!”

But it was all too late, and Tanggang turned into a 65” Samsung Curved Smart TV, and his mother got to watch Korean drama to her heart’s content.

Which wass brilliant, because arguably, turning Tanggang into stone would have been a waste of a perfectly good curse.

NOTES:
[1] A local delicacy made from sweet potato with sugar filling, deep-fried for that delicious taste and extra calories.

#18: Batu Belah Batu Bertangkup: Reloaded

Many years before the 1920s Great Depression, a widow and her two children lived on the fringes of a jungle and remained below poverty line for ages.

She worked three jobs and every day, the resourceful and multi-skilled widow would start with catching fish at a nearby river. She would leave her two children at home by themselves, with her daughter babysitting her younger brother with the aid of an iPad and an obscure video game called ‘Angry Bird’.

One night, she had a weird dream of a school of dolphins in thongs doing synchronised swimming in the nearby river. This was particularly bizzare because synchronised swimming did not become an official Olympic sport until the 1984 Summer Games.

Anyway, she woke up the next morning with a desperate craving for the roe of a tembakul fish.[1] She immediately set out to catch a tembakul fish with roe and spent days on end scouring the river, but alas, to no avail.

One fine morning – it was the first Thursday after Thanksgiving – her net finally found the desired catch. She was understandably ecstatic beyond words. She brought home the fish, cooked asam pedas ikan tembakul, and left it in a basket suspended high above the floor.

Before going out to start her second job of the day, she left a message on a Post-It Note to her daughter, which said, “You and your brother can eat the fish, but leave the roe for me.”

An hour after their mother left the house, the son woke up hungry and cried for food. Her sister gave him some rice, a small portion of tembakul fish and some of the roe.

It was such a delicious fare that the younger brother cried for more. The sister obliged and pulled the basket down, when suddenly the boy seized all the roe and dashed off, eating it all in a corner of the house.

The sister was horrified, terrified, mortified by what had happened. Knowing that they were now in neck-deep trouble, she decided to fry some fish fingers as replacement for the roe.

Later that day, the widow came home and asked her daughter to bring her some rice and roe. When – quite inevitably – only fish and fish fingers were served, she asked for the roe. Her daughter had no choice but to tell her that the little brother had eaten it all.

Needless to say, she was crestfallen and exceedingly distraught.

“I told you to keep the roe but you let your silly brother eat it all! Obviously you don’t you love me despite everything that I have done for both of you,” the widow said somewhat melodramatically.

Completely exhausted, the widow went to sleep in tears and had yet another vivid, weird dream. In this dream, she saw peacocks running in slow motion and then she saw a huge rock, gaping and yawning, calling her name.

She woke up dazed and confused, as she initially couldn’t figure out how the dream she just had echoed and amplified the things that were going on in her waking life, as well as the attendant stresses and upheavals.

Suddenly, she heard a voice inside her head[2] telling her to go to the huge rock, so the widow bolted out of the house, still in a trance of sorts.

The daughter woke up with a start upon hearing her mother footsteps. She woke her brother up and they went in frenzied pursuit of their mother.

While running towards the rock, the widow cried:

“Batu belah batu bertangkup,
Ambil aku, telan aku,
Aku kempunan telur ikan tembakul.”

 Which can be loosely translated thus:

“Split rock, conjoined rock,
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me,[3]
For I crave the roe of ikan tembakul so much.”

The widow kept running faster and faster towards the gaping rock, chanting the same refrain. Upon reaching the rock, she looked back for the last time at her beloved pursuers, and dashed into the rock’s cavernous maw.

The rock devoured the widow like a voracious, gigantic animal and was burping incessantly by the time the two hapless children arrived, betraying the gruesome and gory end to their mother.

Consumed by regret, the daughter vowed to never make the same mistake ever again, and the episode put her off caviar for the rest of her life.

As for the younger brother, he continued to be haunted by a weird dream of him swimming in the Caspian Sea, shouting “Beluga caviar for sale!” for the rest of his life.

NOTES:
[1] Mudskippers, according to Google Translate.
[2] Never a good thing.
[3] This sounds suspiciously like a U2 song.

#17: Singapura Dilanggar Todak: Reloaded

Temasek, the old Singapore, was home to a gifted 10-year-old named Hang Nadim. Even at a very young age, he was known to be a bit of an intellectual with a keen grasp of mathematical concepts and a penchant for advanced physics theorem.

He was probably the most sought after person whenever the island had a seemingly intractable problem that needed solving — water, sand, gambling, town planning — but more of the wee lad later.

One day, disaster hit Temasek. Schools of horny — and not to mention deadly — ikan todak, or swordfish, started to attack the island at the end of the mating season like Chelsea FC supporters going on a rampage during an Asian Tour.

Quite inexplicably, they jumped out of the water, spearing and killing Singaporean passport holders, expatriates, and naturalised foreign football players. Their unruly behaviour[1] created havoc all over the island.

People who came to witness the phenomenon soon tried to flee the beach, but many ended up getting lanced by the ikan todak. It was an absolute carnage, and the death toll soon rose. The chief lifeguard on duty, David Hasselhoff, had no choice but to alert the King of Temasek of the todak onslaught.

The King hopped on his elephant, which was equipped with a brand new naturally aspirated 5.5-litre V8 engine, and reached the beach in no time with his entourage.

The mayhem and the scale of the catastrophe were plain to see. There were dead bodies everywhere at the water’s edge, and the King knew he had to act fast.

Upon consultation with a group of management consultants, the King promptly instructed the rakyat to line up along the sandy shore with a parang, or machete, in hand. “Use your body as shield, and use the parang to chop the todak,” he ordered.

It didn’t sound like a good idea then and — let’s be perfectly honest here — it still sounds like a pretty dumb idea today. Alas, the rakyat had no other choice but to do as told.[2]

Needless to say, the effort came to nought. The barricade of men did little to stem the tide, and resulted only in further loss of lives mainly attributable to massive loss of blood, sepsis and men accidentally stabbing each other while trying to hack the todak.

The dead bodies began to pile up, and even those who were not speared by the todak were also rolling all over the place, feigning injury like their national football team.

Everyone was beginning to freak out as things looked increasingly bleak and hopeless. It was very confusing and incomprehensible, not unlike the lyrics to Selena Gomez’s songs.

The King was at his wits’ end, and he was desperate to salvage the situation. The calamity was obviously bad for the country’s reputation, bad for business, bad for investors’ confidence, and, of course, bad for voters.

The King was at the point of fleeing, when someone suggested that he should consult Hang Nadim, the boy genius. Hang Nadim was hastily brought to the palace to deliberate the strategic options to combat the todak blitzkrieg.

After listening intently to the client’s brief, Hang Nadim gave a seven-page Powerpoint presentation to the King and outlined a remarkably simple plan to save Temasek from the deadly todak attacks: fortify the beachline by erecting a barricade of banana tree trunks. This would neutralise the todak threat and spare the people from being skewered like kebabs.

The King’s advisers were sceptical and vehemently protested, but were told off by the King.

“We have nothing to lose by listening to this boy, but everything to gain if it works. Get it done, be proactive, work with a clear end in mind, synergise and think win-win!” barked the King.

“I know I may sound like a management consultant now but it is absolutely imperative that we combine our strengths and genuinely strive for a mutually beneficial and sustainable solution.”

The entire population set upon the task of cutting down banana trees, and it was a good thing too that Temasek was a major banana producing country. It was a weekend, so everyone was pretty happy to work since they were paid overtime at triple the usual daily rate. They hauled the trunks to the shore and before nightfall, the entire island was buttressed by row upon row of banana tree trunks.

The King’s advisers again derided the whole thing, saying that Temasek would gain no real benefit from the move. This was, of course, mere conjecture on their part, but hey, they were older and had a lot more facial hair, so they must have thought that that was enough reason for their bellyaching.

The next day, everyone including the King rushed to the shores to check if their plan had worked. Lo and behold, there were literally thousands of struggling todaks with their snouts stuck in the banana tree trunks, trying to wiggle themselves free. The jubilant crowd chopped off the swordfish and Temasek was once again peaceful.

Hang Nadim was heralded a hero and was rewarded handsomely by the grateful King. The lad was conferred a Datukship,[3] appointed a board member of the country’s investment arm, and became lead consultant to the Temasek ruler with comprehensive medical benefits.

The King’s advisers were fuming with rage that Hang Nadim was being feted and honoured by their boss, given an expanded job description and a plump performance bonus. They obviously envied the boy’s intelligence and popularity among the girls, so they vowed to make the King turn against the boy. As you can see, dear readers, fury, jealousy and incompetence are never a good combo.

They whispered into the King’s ear, “If Hang Nadim can think up such a scheme at such a young age, what kind of a threat would he pose to the palace when he grows up? Your Highness, genius and ambition are a dangerous combination.”

This obviously got the King all riled up and worried about his future.

“You are quite right,” the King said. “What if the boy turns Temasek into a republic? Supreme control over the government shall no longer be granted through heritage, and the monarchy — constitutional or otherwise — becomes a relic. This is Temasek. I cannot allow that to happen.”

To make this story slightly longer, the King continued, “What if this boy gangs up with other English-educated middle-class professionals, forms some kind of people action political party, suppresses free speech and other civil liberties, and becomes prime minister? Clearly, this boy cannot be allowed to live.”

Hang Nadim was immediately summoned to the palace, stripped of his Datukship, and swiftly sentenced to death with no real legal remedy made available. He attempted to bring the matter to court but it didn’t really get anywhere, because unlike this day and age of judicial independence, corrupt judges controlled the courts of law in those dark days.

Thus Hang Nadim the boy genius was executed for being too smart, and for fear that he might grow up ambitious and hungry for power. He was lined up against a wall, pelted with rotten potatoes, and finally executed with a keris.

Naturally, the insecure palace advisers were dead chuffed, as they looked forward to many more years of festering mediocrity. The whole episode is believed to be one of the earliest documented history of office politics as we know it today.

Temasek did not remain peaceful for long, as the todak made an even more deadly return soon after, descending on the island and harpooning the King, his advisers and all his subjects.

It was a dark period in Temasek’s history, where the people were stripped of their sense of humour, an affliction that remains among the people of the land until today.

This particular chapter was not one without a happy outcome. As a result of the whole banana tree trunk defence, there were banana leaves scattered all over the island. This triggered a lucrative export business when a Malayan entrepreneur began to import the leaves into the Federated Malay States and started a Kassim Nasi Daun Pisang outlet near Brickfields.

The franchise thrived over the years until the area was torn down to make way for the construction of KL Sentral and all the posh condos.

Well, that’s development for you.

NOTES:
[1] The ikan todak, not the expatriates.
[2] Maybe they should have ordered management consultants to line up on the shores so that they could all be speared to death by the todak.
[3] Similar to what Jackie Chan got.

#16: The Lion, The Fox and The Ass: Reloaded (Part 3 of The Donkey Trilogy)

One day, the Lion, the Fox and the Ass went on a hunting trip and agreed to work collaboratively and to assist each other. It was Boxing Day and with so many animals still suffering from their Christmas dinner hangover, they managed to secure a large booty.

Once they reached home, the Lion – always the gang leader – asked the Ass to divide the loot and allot each of the partners his due portion.

The Ass wasn’t exactly a genius in these things,[1] so he used his rudimentary skills in mathematics to carefully divide the day’s catch into three equal shares. He then modestly invited the two others to make the first choice.

The Lion duly responded by devouring the Ass in record time, an act of brutality that shook the watching Fox to the core.

The Lion then delegated the task of dividing the spoils to the Fox. The Fox accumulated all that they had killed into one large heap and left to himself smallest possible morsel: a mingy hare in his late 30s and a self-conscious squirrel who graduated from Cambridge University.

The Lion was thoroughly (if not sincerely) impressed and asked, “Who taught you, my very excellent fellow, the art of division?”

The Fox replied, “I learned it from the Ass, by witnessing his fate.”

Apparently the moral of the story is, it is always wise to learn from the misfortunes of others, and I guess that’s pretty obvious.

But the main thing is the Lion ate the Ass, and we are quite happy to leave it at that.

The End.

NOTES: 
[1] Actually, the Ass wasn’t a genius, full stop.

#15: The Ass in the Lion’s Skin: Reloaded (Part 2 of The Donkey Trilogy)

An ass was walking home after pulling at all-nighter at a local tavern when he came across a lion’s skin. Slightly drunk and couldn’t quite believing his eyes, he sniffed, prodded and closely examined the coarse brown fur until he was quite sure there was no lion in it.

Then – for the first time in thirty five years – his brain flickered and he had a brilliant idea.[1]

“I am not brave and never frighten people, even though I have a loud, sometimes chipmunk-like voice that is always a huge hit at karaoke functions,” he said.[2]

The ass figured that if he put the lion skin on and sported fake whiskers, people would think that he was a lion.

“I will be the bravest and the strongest animal in the whole world. After Tyrannosaurus rex, of course, because that guy scares me with his freakishly small hands. And maybe Brachiosaurus as well, because I don’t trust someone with necks that long,” the ass thought.

So the ass took the lion’s skin home and dressed up in it, for he was pretty used to cross-dressing on weekends. He was sure that everyone would be afraid of him and his parents would be so proud of him.

The ass – now in full lion regalia – stood in the doorway, his heart swelling and trying his best to look like a lion. Except that he wasn’t, and quite frankly, he looked like a complete prat and he still smelled like an ass.

The ass now felt like a lion, and he was beginning to think that he was a lion, ignoring the fact that he looked thoroughly ridiculous with his nose, ears and tail sticking out.

The ass was an avid social media user and he had read somewhere on Facebook that people were more afraid of lions than any other animal in the whole world. He figured that since the article had gone viral on social media and his friends had also started blogging about it, that piece of news must be true.

Without checking the veracity of such news items, he marched down to the village like a brave ass he thought he was. What a champion ass!

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon, and the people in the village were going about their business when one of them noticed an odd creature[3] trotting towards them.

The villager got the shock of his life, and not quite believing his eyes, he mustered the strength and shouted, “It’s a lion! Run for your lives, everyone!”

The villagers scampered away and ran helter-skelter[4] and, in the ensuing disorderly haste and confusion, forgot to file for their income tax returns that particular year.

“Help! We shall be eaten alive!” wailed the people, as they ran faster that David Hasselhoff and Yasmine Bleeth ever ran on ‘Baywatch’, and with the ass in hot pursuit.

“This is so much fun!” thought the ass. “People are actually afraid of me! I can get used to this kind of scaremongering and scare tactics, and I can certainly get used to killing people!”

In his excitement, what the ass didn’t notice was the lion’s skin he was wearing began to slip and finally fell off! He just kept chasing after the villagers.

He then grew more confident and foolishly thought he could frighten the people even more if he gave a mighty lion’s roar. So that was precisely what he did, but the only thing that came out of his stinky, filthy mouth was a meek and pitchy ‘Hee Haw! Hee Haw!”

Upon hearing this, the penny well and truly dropped for the people as they now realised that it wasn’t a mighty Lion that had been chasing them. Rather, it was a scrawny, hairy little ass with an over-inflated ego and a penchant for enormous women.

“Look! He is only an ass, and not the saviour and genius that he claimed to be!” one of the villagers said angrily.[5]

“Fancy an ass pretending to be a lion and chasing us! What cheek! Let’s chase him back, skin him alive and roast his ass for lunch,” said another.

Without his lion’s skin, no one was afraid of the ass anymore and they hunted him down. The ass ran away , his tail between his legs, and never seen again. Ever.

The moral of the story are many, but perhaps one of the main learnings is, one needs to be comfortable in one’s own skin and not try to be someone he’s not. Otherwise, it’s just insane and seriously folks, who needs this kind of nonsense?

As for the ass, he should have managed his risks better. He should have used his head a bit more rather than just looking at some dashboard and spewing nonsense at regular intervals using Powerpoint slides.

Without the lion’s skin, the ass had no lion’s courage, and folks, courage is not something you can buy at IKEA during Christmas.

NOTES:
[1] Or so he thought.
[2] He didn’t mention his short legs and over-sized forehead but we all know he had those too.
[3] Of course he was odd, what with his short legs, oversized forehead and ridiculous grin.
[4] This incident was rumoured to have inspired the song ‘Helter Skelter’, which The Beatles recorded in their ‘White Album’, but this is inconclusive and Beatles historians are still discussing it.
[5] Not to mention randomly.

#14: The Donkey and The Lapdog: Reloaded (Part 1 of The Donkey Trilogy)

Once there was a man who had a house and a farm. He also had a partially deaf donkey (Equus africanus asinus) and a largely docile lapdog (the generic type) with no useful skill set. Both animals had four legs (no surprises there) but have very different work ethics.

The donkey had a reputation of being diligent and meticulous, and toiled away on the farm every day. Apparently he was very good at it too, and his master rewarded him with plenty of food and a comfortable stable with central heating for him to sleep at night.

Life was actually pretty good – for an ass – but the donkey was never one to be overly happy and content with his lot. He kept thinking about the lapdog, and he thought it was an outrage that he was the one doing all the heavy lifting and yet the lapdog was the one getting all the love.

“I know that according to Wikipedia that donkeys have been used as working animals for at least 5000 years, but I also know – again, thanks to Wikipedia – that there is a small number of donkeys that are kept as pets in developed countries,” the donkey thought to himself.

“I work hard all day long, while that silly dog has an easy life!” he added.

This was actually true because the lapdog basically played all day in the house and performed a couple of simple tricks every other Saturday. Other than that, he was expected to do nothing particularly taxing except run around chasing furry balls, scratch itself and doze off in front of the fireplace while his master drinks brandy.

Not a stroke of work was ever involved and as a reward, he had the privilege of sleeping in a soft bed at night right by the side of his master.

Basically it was a permanent holiday and some people are lucky that way.

As far as the donkey was concerned, that was not the worst part. He was particularly envious of the fact that the lapdog would sit on his master’s laps at mealtimes and given lovely things to eat, despite the lapdog’s poor table manners.

The donkey looked through the window and thought to himself, “I can’t decide whether the lapdog is very smart or very lucky to not lift a finger ever and yet getting all the fussing and petting.”

The donkey was suddenly overcome with a sharp pang of jealousy and said, “I wish I could be more like the dog. The farmer and his wife would rub my belly and pat my head all day, and the only thing I have to do is look cute.”

The next day, the donkey trotted into the house and began to play just like the dog. He started jumping and prancing around the room without realising that his arse was far too big and his movement far too gangly. It didn’t take him long to clumsily run into the neatly arranged chairs and tables.

The donkey was on a roll and he tried to bark just like the little lapdog, but of course he couldn’t.

Then he saw the delicious breakfast spread on the table and jumped onto his master’s lap, just like the dog. In the process, he toppled over the table, broke the chairs, broke the fine china and broke his master’s rib.[1]

The master was not amused and shouted, “You clumsy savage! What in the name of God’s great earth do you think you are doing? You’re a donkey, not a lapdog!”

He grabbed a taser gun[2] and struck the donkey, before chasing the poor thing back to the stable. This was considered borderline animal cruelty in all twelve districts in Kent but more of that later.[3]

It finally dawned on the donkey that he had been daft to pretend to be a lapdog, mainly because he was a donkey. He decided that he would forever be a donkey, doing donkey kind of work, eating donkey food, and sleeping in a donkey stable. Unless, of course, if he came back in his next life as a comb.

Well, folks, life is like that. People always want to be someone else because they are not comfortable in their own skin. It’s a bit like going to a restaurant, where you order something and then look at the elderly couple seated at the next table and wish you had ordered what they ordered.

So you change your order and basically make a bloody nuisance of yourself, and end up having the cheesed off kitchen crew spit in your duck ravioli.

NOTES: 
[1] For the benefit of our discerning readers, it’s important to establish that all the donkeying around was far from cute and far from adorable. And just like in life, donkeys just don’t understand.
[2] A non-lethal electroshock weapon sometimes used by police to subdue fleeing, belligerent or potentially dangerous people, as well as fleeing, belligerent or potentially dangerous donkeys
[3] Maybe.

#13: The Sick Lion: Reloaded

It was a scorching day in an unusually hot season, with temperatures rising to insane levels. This was made worse by water cuts everywhere, as lawmakers dithered over water deals, maintenance and upgrades. It was baking hot, not unlike high summer in Abu Dhabi, and the intensity of the heat was enough to make one sweats through one’s eyeballs.

Lion just celebrated his 54^th birthday and felt too tired to hunt for his dinner. Hunting was becoming more and more difficult, especially with his wobbly knees and dodgy eyesight. He was no longer in his prime, and wasn’t as fast as he was in his mid-20s. It certainly was the case of the mind is willing but the body is creaking.

“How can I look for my dinner without all that running about?” he asked himself. He sat in his throne and spent a while in deep thought, à la ‘The Thinker’.[1]

After about twenty minutes, Lion suddenly had an idea and grinned a very wicked grin.

“I know,” he said. “My dinner can come to me, instead of me running around hunting for them.”

“And here’s the clever bit: I don’t even have to call for any takeaway or special delivery food, which really means I don’t have to go through the hassle of placing a minimum order and then wait for forty five minutes. Heck, I’m so hungry I don’t even have forty five seconds! I want it all and I want it now,” said Lion, inadvertently quoting the lyrics to a hit song by Queen.[2]

He went into his den and then came out again wearing his favourite cotton pyjamas with an unusually sickly pallor. Lion also took a selfie of him being sick in bed and posted on his Instagram with somewhat melodramatic hashtags such as #NotWell and #UnderTheWeather.

The other animals felt sorry for him. They thought that a sick lion would not be so dangerous. “We must go and visit him,” they said.

Soon all the animals in the forest came to see what was wrong with Lion. After all, he was still the de facto King of the Jungle, but they were careful not to get too close to him because lions are still carnivorous predators. They knew that as long as they kept a reasonable distance, the old geezer couldn’t really catch and eat them.

On his part, Lion put a fairly conniving, I mean convincing, show. He started to limp around his digs, twitching like a harpooned sea lion. He groaned and moaned like an Italian footballer being bitten by Luis Suarez. Finally, he began to shiver and clutched his stomach, and went to bed in his den.

The animals called for an emergency meeting and formed a subcommittee – with a direct reporting line to the local council – to discuss their next steps.

“Something is obviously wrong with the old geezer,” said Hare, stating the obvious.

“I’m not so sure,” said Duck. “You know him as well as I do. He’s given to all manners of drama, and he’s probably feigning injury to get attention and blaming others of bullying him.”

“He probably deserves our attention. But what if it’s something contagious?” wondered Cow.

But clever Fox had spied on Lion and seen him grin his wicked grin. “Be extra careful,” warned Fox. “He might eat you.”

“Perhaps Fox is right. Maybe we should not visit Lion,” said Rabbit, who was the most timid of all, as he scampered away.

But Cow was very brave.[3] “You are such cowards,” she said. “Poor Lion is sick and I want to cheer him up.”

Others kept silent in utter disbelief, and they figured that if Cow wanted to become Lion’s medium rare wagyu tenderloin dinner, then he could go ahead.

So Cow went first and knocked at Lion’s den door. This, as you will find out later, was one of the worst mistakes in recorded history.

“Come in, come in!” called Lion meekly from his bed, sounding like Justin Bieber without the wonders of Auto-Tune.[4]

So Cow went in, and all the other animals kept commenting how brave Cow really was, ignoring one minor detail that she never came out. They simply assumed that Cow is keeping Lion company, although little did they know that she had become a huge pot of sup ekor, among other things.

The next day Pig said, “I will copy Cow and show that I am brave and courageous too” and he followed Cow’s footsteps into Lion’s den and into The Pork Chop Hall of Fame.

Goat went in next, to copy Pig, and proceeded to become a stunning dinner dish of sizzling lamb chops scottadito,[5] a feast so delicious that you can’t resist eating them sizzling hot, straight from the grill.

Rabbit and Duck were still afraid to go into Lion’s den but Rabbit said, “I am not really a coward. I will copy Goat and go in, but I will wait until tomorrow.”

The next day, Rabbit went into the den to copy Goat, and Duck waddled after to copy Rabbit. In the course of nest couple of weeks, a succession of animals decided to be deliberately stupid and went into the den and never seen again.

Clever Fox was watching everything from a distance, and he was curious to note that all the animals who went into the den were all hardcore Facebook users, and yet, none had since updated their status on the wall.

Fox didn’t need to be a genius to know that all the idiots had walked through the door like some kind of special delivery à la carte dinner, and Lion didn’t even have to pay any service charge or GST!

One day, Fox stood by the door and called, “How are you, Lion? It’s a grand morning, isn’t it? Are you feeling better?”

Lion was delighted to hear the voice of another visitor, and quickly got into character. “I’m feeling very poorly, actually. Why don’t you come in, my friend?” said Lion.

Lion had hoped that Fox would copy all the other animals and come in to be eaten, but Fox was too clever for that.

“Not on your nelly,” said Fox. “It’s been days now and you’re still bed-ridden like a hippopotamus suffering from malaria. I don’t think you are really sick, and I’ve seen all the animals going in, but none coming out!”

Fox went away and Lion had no dinner that day.

It was an abrupt end to this fable, and no one was really sure what the lessons were.

NOTES:
[1] Le Penseur, a bronze sculpture by French sculptor, Auguste Rodin (12 November 1840 – 17 November 1917), who is generally considered the progenitor of modern sculpture. The work shows a nude male figure sitting on a rock with his chin resting on one hand as though deep in thought (or napping – we can’t be completely sure). It is often used as an image to represent philosophy.
[2] The British rock band formed in London in 1970, not the monarch.
[3] Or stupid, depending on how you look at it.
[4] Audio processor that measures and alters pitch in vocal and instrumental music recording and performances. Originally intended to disguise or correct off-key inaccuracies – thus allowing vocal tracks to be perfectly tuned – it has now become the bitchy shorthand for ‘someone who can’t sing to save his life’.
[5] Scottadito means ‘finger blistering’ in Italian. Very apt.