Mak Lang is pounding chillies in the kitchen.

Atiqah is dutifully searching hadiths online.

Hakim is laughing.

Mr. Telly is glaring Playhouse Disney.

Mak Lang is scooping the chillies into the pot.

Atiqah is ruffling her hair in frustration.

Hakim is repeating after Pocoyo, "Who are you?" and "Pocoyo play!"

Hakim is screaming for fun.

Mak Lang is washing the vegetables.

Atiqah is going through the Quran.

Hakim is throwing his bottle to the ground.

Pocoyo is waving good bye. Hakim is, too.

Mak Lang called out, "Hakim, mandi!"

Atiqah is getting up to make Hakim’s fresh batch of Pediasure.

Hakim is shrilly repeating after Mickey, "Mouseketool!"

Mickey is looking for his bike.

Mak Lang is receiving no answer for her request.

Atiqah is telling Hakim off for yelling too loud.

Hakim continued yelling, "Tu dekat belakang!"

Mickey is cycling his bike down the road, warning Chip and Dale off the road.

Mak Lang is sitting down.

Atiqah has a pain in her stomach.

Hakim is yelling, "Tu! Bawah! Eee! Hahaha!"

Mickey is asking, "Do you see Minnie and Daisy?"

"Tu! Tu!" Hakim is pointing towards the telly.

Mak Lang is saying, "Hakim, jom lah mandi."

Atiqah is typing her reply of hadith translation.

Hakim is jumping off the couch, landing on Mak Lang’s back.

Mickey is saying, "Everyone say, Oh Toodles!"

"Oh Toodles!" Everyone except Mak Lang and Atiqah chipped.

Mak Lang is grumbling.

Atiqah is smirking.

Hakim is ordering Mickey, "Angkat kaki dia, pastu jatuh!"

Mickey caught Daisy. "Dapat!"

Mak Lang is walking back towards the kitchen.

Atiqah is asking for the remote control from Hakim.

Hakim is ignoring Atiqah. "Yes! Dapat! Haha! Dia punya! Eh mana belon dia?"

Mickey and friends are dancing.

Hakim put down the control and dance and sing along.

Atiqah is singing along while taking the control away.

Hakim is oblivious.

"Dia kata ‘hancur’ la!" Hakim is reprimanding Atiqah.

"Mickey nyanyi ‘hot dog’ la."

"Hot dog tu makanan Hakim!"

"Ye?"

"Angah nampak conterol tak?" Hakim is prancing up and down for his remote control.

"Tak."

Hakim is getting frustrated. "Mana conterol! Mana conterol!"

Telly is glaring Tiny Planet. Hakim is singing. "Bing and Bong!~"

The control remains under the table.

The court case heard by magistrate Nur Farahim Che Ismail has been a blast, and I sincerely thank her for her cooperation and the fun and exciting experience I had gained by being the counsel for the defendant. Thanks for not dismissing me out of your court and overruling several significant objections I had made.

By the way, Your Honour, that jubah of yours is quite cute.

Thanks to Muhd Fayyadh Muhd Azmi for being a helpful and awesome teammate and I wish you the best in your law career, just in case the plane you flew suffered any damages. Thank you.

Thanks to Munirah Kholid and Nur Izzati Mohd for being excellent opponents and the cool disagreement we had. The talking I had made took a serious toll on my throat and I am assure you guys suffered the same sore throat as I am. Thank you.

Thank you to Ahmad Syafiq Shahrin and his ‘mummy’ Tuan Farihan Tuan Hassan for being cooperative during the whole interrogatory phase. We will not have won the case if the clients had not been cooperative as they did, giving us ideas and lashing out appropriate answers during the cross-examinations.

To Ahmad Syafiq, I thank you in advance in your willing to treat me with all the food I had dutifully mentioned in my last testimonial to you.

To Nur Diyana Hanim Idris, Noor Farhana Zakaria, Nadirah Che Adnan and Fatimatul Zahraq, I thank you for being a considerate and fair jury in your final verdict. I wish you guys a blessed future ahead and I know that only Allah can repay your kindness. Thank you.

To Inspector Tuan Ashraf Tuan Yusuf, thank you for your deliberate and detailed reports you had made. I can’t describe how helpful those reports had been in our case progression and I also thank you for your truthful and straightforward answers during the examination. I wish you success in your future career. Thank you, sir.

To Fateen Nordin [the tudung is a beau, I mean it!], ‘Datin’ Razan Hayati Zulkeflee and her bling-blings and fancy clothes and playful antics, Nur Nadia Yusuf, Faizah Md Nawi, Muhaqquis Ismail [Hey, you should treat the whole class to Mamak Spicy, you know. Working there and all. :D] and Ainul Widad, a sincere thank you for all.

A special thanks to Muhd Ma’wa, the CNN reporter, for his willingness to treat me to endless supply of air asam jawa, among others. Make a great report on me, will ya? I need endless good publicity, haha.

I don’t think I’ve missed anyone’s name. Oh! My bad! Thank you Dr. Wan for laughingly supporting my ideas during the examination, and of course, by electing me as the defendant’s attorney in the first place. The class was fun and I know all had learned something valuable during it.

Now excuse me, I’ve to catch up with my sleep.

When I was a kid, I once send an email to my favourite band Nsync. You know, the popular American boy band consisted of Justin Timberlake and J.C. Chasez and three others?

I read that J.C. will be reading the emails and since he was my favourite, I could still remember the joy of carefully writing that email; wary of any grammatical error.

Alas, they never reply that email. I was never the one to wait, so after a few days of sending that email, I stopped thinking of it and get on with my life.

Come to think of it, a few days wouldn’t be sufficient for them to read all thousands of emails they receive everyday, let alone reply to them.

But then, I was just a kid.

When I was a bit more matured, I think it was months ago, I wrote an email to Yayasan UEM College to inquire on any scholarship they had to offer.

Though I was still the no-to-waiting person, I was matured and patient enough to wait for the reply for a couple of days longer than before.

Alas, as I sat before the laptop staring at my inbox, no reply from Yayasan UEM College could be seen.

Perhaps I should act my age and drop by the college instead.

A few weeks after the fruitless attempt, I send an email to Khazanah Nasional inquiring about the scholarship they will be giving out.

Khazanah is a very successful national company with investments outside the border, so my bet was that the email will take longer to be replied. The efficient workers will have a hard time between replying insignificant emails and catching up with the company accounts, right?

So I was never to be taken by surprised that after 18 days of waiting, no reply was to be seen.

Will I stop asking? Well, sure I won’t. Questioning is the simplest way to earn new knowledge and I’m not that sissy to have my spirit broken after three fruitless attempt to gaining answers from respected big shots.

Besides, I adore asking. As long as I ask no stupid questions, I’m happy with my nature.

Have a happy day to all kids out there!

Dearest Atiqah,

How are you doing? I am doing just excellent as always, and I do hope you are having the time of your life today.

It has come to my knowledge that you had a rather huge argument today. Two against one. And I should never have doubted you would have won that argument, regardless of how many opponents you have. A congratulation is in order.

So you won the argument and got what you want. And you had managed to condemn one opponent and made the other one in tears. Your partner and the other three spectators were grinning rather goofily. You noticed? I do.

Have you considered this when you got all heated up? Because I am sure that I will not show up unless you are in an intense emotion. In this case, the feeling of kicking a puppy. A cute adorable puppy with cancer and five months to live.

What was it called? Ah, yes. Guilt.

I know you had a strong point in arguing and I am sure you were right. Maybe they, too, had their points? Perhaps not as strong as yours, but their points should have been considered, instead of jumping on their throats. What do you think?

We read Dale Carnegie, and I recalled him saying if you argue for your point and win, you will still be losing as you didn’t manage to change the others’ point of view. You just manage to make them sick and concur with you out of frustration.

Consider how our beloved Prophet Muhammad s.a.w interacted with others. And how about Benjamin Franklin? Theo Roosevelt?

You enjoy reading; even the crappiest crap so long as they were well-written. Look them up and read about them.

And remember that Personality Plus book? What that lady Florence Littauer said about Cholerics? "They [Cholerics] are natural great leader and are always right, but only when they improve their weaknesses they will become the great leader that they are."

Be diplomatic. Then you will be happily right and others won’t feel that frustrated with your stubborn head.

You’ve made a mistake, but it’s okay if you learn from it and avoid it in the future. Don’t worry too much

Oh, look at the time! I have to bid thee adieu, and until our path crosses again, have a pleasant day running the house with a tolerable Fist of Tabigong. Here’s a bear hug from a distance away, as I am,

Yours lovingly,

Your sensible self.

p/s: No matter how guilty you are and the numerous time the thought of apologizing occur to you, you just wouldn’t do it. I know. Save the egoistic characteristic for a later fight between us, okay?

I’m in the middle of some tiresome projects right now, so I hardly had time to write any crap in here. So I’ll make this quick.

I owe Fatimah a blog post on our last week Operation Sharlinie and I’m sorry to say I still couldn’t put my best into it. I’ve made like, two drafts on it but I’m still not satisfied.

And I’ve done four drafts on the fiction I owed Kak A’isyah and I still hadn’t completed it yet!

I hate this perfectionist side of me when it comes out at such ungodly hour.

I have a court case next week and we still haven’t interrogate the witnesses yet. My god, hectic life it is. Luckily I’m teamed up with McL [If you're reading this, Munirah named you. Be diplomatic, McL.].

I’m currently into the family blog and it’s quite tiresome since I’m not really used to WordPress. Any family members [siblings, cousins, uncles, aunties, grandpas, etc] interested in being the editors or contributors, please let me know.

Oh, and I’m the admin. No arguing.

I feel like Stitch right now, running around the country on the look out for my cousins. We’re not that close, unfortunately.

But since the creation of Internet, tracking someone down is not a big problem. *winks*

My driving lessons is on halt now, since I’ve only got to sit for the darn JPJ test. If I’m diligent enough, I might drop down to Yakin Pandu this Friday. Man, where’s a PA when I need one?

And I still need to fill up my UPU form. I’m only halfway done since I still couldn’t make up my mind on the courses I am to apply.

Ceh. I need to admit I’m lazy. Take a deep breath, Atiqah.

Till then, minna-san! Have a great day!

p/s: I’m getting married in a week, folks! Man, I can hardly wait! You weren’t expecting that, were you? Haha, gotcha.

Hakim is sick and I am going to be sick, too, unless drastic measures are taken.

Wow, I actually cut to the chase! I normally beat about the bush, you know, with the whole crapping thingy.

Finally, I’m getting rid of this bad habit of mine!

Wait. I just wasted three sentences of pure crap. Crap. Back to the topic.

As I mentioned, Hakim is sick. He is from last night when he puked out his dinner.

Parents said he was fine.

I am not convinced, but trust me, after living for nearly 17 years and six months of being a daughter to a pair of doctor and nurse, I’ve come to the conclusion that medical professionals don’t really fret over their offspring’s sickness.

Ah, yes, I remember the days I was feverish and refused point-blank to tell my parents about it. Because I know they won’t make a big deal out of it.

So there I was, snuggling like a fetus on the sofa. No, my mistake. I was snuggling on the marbled floor. It was cool down there.

They care, sure they do. Just in their uniquely unique way.

Back to Hakim being sick.

He threw out his breakfast, that lucky kid. The turn of event saw me cleaning up after him. The boy himself, the gray Robot shirt, the jeans, the carpet, the floor.

I am one good sister. Oh yes I am. I should make a song for myself.

But the part that made me sick was when he refused point-blank to put on a new pants, because he wanted jeans.

I mean, what was the big deal about jeans? The only clean pants left were short denims and he made his point across that he wouldn’t be wearing short denims.

Cutting the story short, after a turmoil of tantrums, streams of tears and toy cars flying, victory is Mitsui’s.

He wore the pants in defeat. He sobbed as he was laid down to sleep. He sucked on his bottle as the telly glared with Asian Food Channel.

And I was left standing. Fuming. Man, that’s a bad combo. Prophet Muhammad s.a.w said that if you are mad and standing, sit. Mad and sitting, lay down.

I might as well roll over and play dead. No one will bother me again.

So he hadn’t had his lunch. And dinner was another thing. He puked up on it, too.

I consulted my parents and just now, mom gave Hakim is first dosage of Panadol syrup [Finally! Oh mama I love you!]. And the boy’s sleeping now.

I’ve analyzed my situation before I jotted this down. That’s the third thing you have to do when you’re mad, actually.

I am fuming. Yes. Because Hakim is sick, and I’m helpless.

I resent helplessness. So, yeah, it’s me and my dignity after all. I mean, he was under my watch when he got sick. Which responsible caretaker wouldn’t be fumed?

So, now that he’s okay [for the time being], I’m okay.

I am simple, am I not?

p/s: What to do when you are mad?

1. Punch the nearest wall.
2. Breathe deeply.
3. Analyze the situation.

[Source: Atiqah Hanifah and her eccentric friend. You know who that is.]

Well, I jumbled it all up. Usually I skip number one. You would, too, if you know how fragile the human phalanges are and how horribly thick the concrete wall is.

You are now with the ever charming DJ Toshio in our late night segment Message of Love, love is in the air, brought to you by Cornelitto, where love is in every bite. We have our second caller for tonight. Hello? Who’s on the line?

Yo? I’m a Homo sapien from Kanagawa.

A what?

A Homo sapien. Geez, you don’t study science or what?

Okay, Sapien-san. So who’s the special one you’re dedicating this message to tonight?

I would love to dedicate this to another Homo sapien currently residing somewhere in Tokyo.

I see. Another one of your kind, eh? So what’s the message?

The message goes: So you’re not replying my sms. Don’t worry, I used to do that to others, too.

To let you know, I’m that dreading Energizer bunny. You kick me, I’ll just stick to where I am until my mission is accomplished.

This is what you get when you crossed a Choleric with a Melancholy.

Wow, a minute there, ma’am. You can’t just threathen someone on air!

Hold your tongue, Toshio-san! I’m not threatening anyone.

Labelling your message as creepy will be an understatement. This is a love-in-the-air channel.

Yeah, whateve. It’s the only channel I can get through. Besides, can’t you just feel the love inside the message?

Alright freaky head. Better get this over with. What’s the song you would like to dedicate to Sapien2-san?

My Best Friend Plank. Thanks, Toshio-san!

All right fellas. Listen up to My Best Frind Plank while I go and grab myself an aspirin. Right here on Nippon-Go.fm!

I’m never bored when I’m with you
We’re pals, we’re buddies through and through
I wish I knew what to buy for you
On your birthday

Our friendship goes against the grain
I’ve seen you swell up in the rain
I saw you - didn’t see your pain
Was it termites

It’s never hard to talk to you
Though you stump me with your silence
I feel so naughty pining here
For your happy face’s guidance

My best friend Plank
My best friend Plank
My best friend Plank

Sitting there so silently
What could you be thinking
You’re not saying; I won’t axe
Is that sealant that you’re drinking

Man, you’re hammered! Nailed you, pal
Al Gore’s wife’s name is "Tipper
I knew that we’d be best friends for life
When I saved you from that chipper

My best friend Plank
My best friend Plank
My best friend Plank

Ooo, Plank
Count the rings, count the rings
Ooo, Plank
Count the rings

I’d walk you on the seven seas
But sawdust always makes me wheeze
I met your mom and dad the trees
But please don’t get Dutch elm disease

My best friend Plank
My best friend Plank
My best friend Plank
You’re my best friend, Plank

You’re still with me, DJ Toshio in our late night segment Message of Love, love is in the air, brought to you by Cornelitto, where love is in every bite. Now, is our third caller on line? Hello?

Hello. This is a Homo sapien from Tokyo.

Sapien2-san?

Yeah, me.

What is this, the war of the Sapiens?

Note: I need to write. Don’t question the lack of plot. Thought you might be interested in what’s everyday inside my head.

Hey there, sunken eyes. What are you looking for?

…

[snaps fingers] Hey! I’m talking to you, miss!

[glances at the newcomer] Oh, it’s you. The wrong person at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Story of my life. So, what are you looking for?

My cerebrum.

Your what?

My cerebrum. You know? The part of the brain that controls thinking or whatsit.

You misplaced your brain?

No. My cerebrum. If I misplaced my brain, I won’t be here answering you. I’ll be laying, dead.

Then what will you tell me, "I’m dead"?

Well, you’ll never know until you ask, right?

Brilliant Miss McClane.

Indeed, Captain Obvious. Help me or tata.

Too bad, ma’am. I kind of liked you.

I got enough friends.

You’re quite difficult for a simple jerk, you know that.

No prizes for stating the obvious. [holding head] Ah! There it is!

I never realised you were funny.

For a second there, I thought I’ve lost it. [sighed contentedly]

For a second there, I thought I’ve lost you.

Eccentric’s the word.

Mental.

Make that mental genius.

Jerk.

So, why did you greet me beforehand?

Nothing.

Then don’t talk to me. You’re annoying.

Ouch, that hurts. [touches heart]

Here, a Band Aid.

I’ll forget you ever said that. Actually, I just thought you might wanna hang out or something.

I hang out at the hospital. Wanna come?

At dad’s clinic?

No, at the morgue. [silly smile]

[equally silly smile] Oh, sounds just as much fun. Count me in.

Grab a backpack. We’re in for quite a while.

Just curious, though. What do we do if we hang out at dad’s clinic?

Stare at the patients.

How is that any fun?

What do normal teens do when they hang out? They just stare at the people.

Jerk. You drive me nuts. We’re not even close to being normal!

Make that cashew. Tasty.

Ring me when you’re done.

You can eat it on its own, pop right into your mouth.

Are you done yet?

Done what?

Rambling.

I never ramble. I express wise thoughts.

You ramble when something’s bugging you. Wanna tell me about it?

Tell you what?

What’s on your mind.

I have a lot. Which part you wanna hear?

The most frustrating one.

Talking to you.

Come on, I know you enjoy annoying me as much as I enjoy annoying you.

Today’s class presentation.

Oh? How did it go?

Rather bleak. I’m not satisfied. I know I could have done better.

Well, better next time it is. [smiles genuinely] Feeling less irked, now?

If it makes you happy, I’ll say yes.

That’s not it, is it? Now tell me what’s on your mind.

Nicely.

I’m not begging, you know. It pummels my ego down to earth.

I’m not telling.

Fine. I’m not helping.

Suits yourself.

Fine. I’m leaving. [turns around]

Adios, amigo!

I really am leaving.

Send me a postcard!

Okay, now you’re on my nerves. Big time, jerk! [turns back around, frowning]

What happened to my postcard?

[holds by the shoulders] Listen. You’re turning eighteen in a couple of months, and you haven’t acquired a single thing of real value in your life, and no, manga doesn’t count. You’re virtually friendless, and you nearly lose the only person who means everything to you.

[yawns]

Can’t you trust me for one second?

Ever watch Die Hard back-to-back?

Don’t change the subject. I’m not done with you yet.

What was it you were asking me of?

I’m asking you to trust me for one sec, and tell me what’s wrong.

Trust are gained, not begged for.

I so did not beg! [releases shoulders]

Fine. Asked.

Haven’t I acquired your trust yet? After all we’ve gone through? You’re hopeless.

You know, I’ve been called jerk four times today. Four’s a pattern, five’s a fact. So, you see, there’s still hope.

Jerk.

You just rendered me hopeless.

…

I trust you. I really do.

Then tell me. I’m all ears.

I just like to rile you up. You know, when those steams get out through your ears, you look like a choo choo train. [grins]

I’m amused. [scowls]

You really wanna listen?

Sure.

I’ll tell you. I promise.

What’s the catch?

About our plan to hang out?

Yeah?

Well, make it at my place. I’ve got four Die Hard DVDs and I plan on doing a marathon.

Die Hard? I don’t fancy a bald Willis.

Me neither. But I’m cool as long as it’s Willis.

What about The Kid?

Now you reminded me. I love that smile of his in that movie! So innocently cute for a guy his age!

Please, I haven’t had my lunch and puking will only makes my stomach hold a grudge against me.

And his last line in The Sixth Sense? “Good night, sweetheart”? That was totally awwwe. [eyes glisten]

Spare my ears, Colonel Ogle.

Whateve. You bring the popcorn. I want plain. Bring some milk, will ya? I spy only one carton of it in the fridge.

Demanding. Difficult. Why did I even bother with you?

I’m a Choleric. This is what we do. What else? Oh, yes. Just come after Isya’ and we’ll have a sleepover. Then we wake up for Qiam and you can get off my back! How does that sounds?

Like a pain.

I know you’ll see it my way!

Well, at least I made you happy.

I’m always happy. What makes you says the opposite?

Your –

[glances at empty wrist] Oh, look at the time! I gotta go. I know you’ll bug me anyhow, so you know what number to call. Roger and out! [runs off]

My ego sure pummelled back to Earth. [sigh]

Hi there. I am a bolster. I was made of cottons packed rather loosely inside a long cylinder-shaped green cloth, with stripes of white and red.

Sometimes, I complained about the choice of colour of said cloth. It’s green, for God sake! I like red. And the colour is dulling day by day. Where’s the bolster activist when you need one?

But then, I am a bolster. My skin is stripy green. I cannot complain.

I am not sure of my parentage, but I know that the cottons inside of me originated from a cotton tree planted in the backyard of Jamaludin household in the serene village of Kampung Kilang.

The green cloth must then originated from the worn-out clothes of the household’s extremely boisterous offspring.

I shall not complain.

The lady of the house made me and my siblings. My brothers and sisters had different skin back then. Big bro was brown, big sis was red with white stripes, little bro was baby blue and little sis was pink hue with small flowers.

The lady even made our close cousins, the pillows. Big fluffy ones. Monocoloured and poly ones. She was a generous old lady with smiles still held in position by false teeth, and she will gave us all away.

I still remember the day when she benignly handed me to her smiling young grandchildren. The girl was small back then. Dark chocolate eyes that glitters with mischiefs. Small feet that tapered when she ran around the house chasing her big brother. Smiles that stretched to the horizon. Clean hands after wiping dirts onto her clothes. Muddy stripy brown-coloured clothes.

Kids.

She is still small, no doubt. Just a foot taller than me now. But don’t tell her; she’ll fume and gracefully throw me across the room intended to land flat on your face but, no, she and her lousy aim will only end me hard on the wall.

Anyway, back to my autobiography.

I have no favourite food nor drinks. I dislike water. Water will only seep through my permeable skin and sog the cottons. Very discomforting, mind you.

My favourite movie? Well, that little girl hardly took me out on dates or to catch any movie, so, yeah, my knowledge on movies are rather deprived. But I do remember her telling me of ‘The Gladiator’ and ‘I am Sam’ when she weeped silently and hugged me for comfort from the saddening story.

Girls and their tendency to weep.

Favourite music? I don’t really have one. On nights of insomnia strikes, my little mistress would plug in her metallic blue MP3 player and we would listen to Nsync and Bon Jovi and The Callings and Siam Shade and L’Arc~en~Ciel and whatsit, me rather reluctantly.

I don’t really fancy them. They rocked their music too hard for my liking, but how do one bolster nag a girl about her choice of music?

My favourite clothes? Haha, I was anticipating this question! My dearest girl dressed me in this baby blue and yellow checkered bolster casing, and lovely one it is!

She is a rather meticulous person actually. Clean one. Dutifully undress me and wash the casing every month or so, just to make sure I retain my clean, fresh and crisp scent.

Oh, and she hardly drools at night. I’m very grateful to have one polite sleeper as an owner; no maps were left imprinted on me. Haha!

I wonder if my siblings are as lucky as I am. We bolsters have no hari raya gatherings like you humans.

What about my reason for existence? Each and every one of us must have a reason to exist on Earth, my girl always says. She always repeats hers rather Naruto-like. So I ought to have one, too.

I live to serve my mistress. Be it hugged or thrown, I’m all hers.

Fancy enough for an immobile object, eh?

During her happy nights, I’m there to be bear-hugged because I know she’s too arrogant to admit she feels like hugging something.

During her fumed-up nights, I’m there to be punched as she cursed the jerks who made her irk. Did I mention I’m a part-time punching bag?

During her insomnia-filled nights, I’m there, all ears as she bantered on and on about her day, her dreams, and her late grampa’s Ford Escort she is so gonna own one day.

During her rare down nights, I’m there to be the permeable me, absorbing moistures venting out of the corner of her eyes. It was discomforting. Not because of the cottons inside of me sogging, no, but because the usual stuck-up authoritative figure of my mistress is not supposed to be pathetic.

I’ll just loosen up myself and let the lungs-crushing hugs continue as I was held close to the heart.

Do not remind me I have no lungs.

As a bolster, I held true to our motto of always being there. But my now little girl is growing, I am positive of that.

She will go to college, she always says that. And then she will fly off overseas in her quest to become the surgeon she wanted to be. She will then work herself out just for the sake of others. Move out of the house and settle into a nice apartment of her own.

Maybe she would neglect me someday. Abandon me. Leave me untouched on the clumsily made bed.

Maybe. But I hope she will take me with her, as ridiculous as it sounds.

Even heroes had the right to dream, so why can’t a bolster?

I will just cherish the days I have with her, sharing her joys and punches and kicks and hugs and whatsit. I want her to be happy.

And I am happy as long as she continues to smile and hug me.

I better get going. Night owl little missy looks like she’s dozing off to sleep anytime sooner and I better be on the bed, lest she couldn’t find me and end up not sleeping at all.

Adios, readers, and have a blessed New Year. Happy always and get a bolster if you aren’t.

Oh, my bad. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Mr. Bolster but you can call me Encik Bantal Peluk if you like. As cuddly and fluffy and irresistible to ladies I am, please don’t hug me. My jealous mistress might throw a fit.

MORAL OF THE STORY:

To quote Kaamyl; "Jadilah seorang bantal peluk."

And, never take things for granted. Respect and love them for their services now before you end up losing them.

I sounded corny? Oh well, back to my bolster then I go…

We went for a trip to the elusively sardine-packed KB Mall. There was a Digi promotion going on there, and those walking yellow weird thingy was there. Two of them.

I saw kiddies snapping pictures with them. The walking yellow weird thingy grinned and happily distribute yellow balloons with their happy faces on them.

Walking yellow weird thingy was never my thing. Them and those weirdly yellow painted face. Huge belly. Eerie smiles.

I felt the sudden urge to puke. And punch those protruding bellies. Smirk evilly in victory and walk away after committing those crimes.

But no, Atiqah is a good girl. Just walk away and treat herself to ice cream after ceasing the urge to kick those walking yellow weird thingy.

When they went to buy Hazim and Yaya’s school uniform, I excused myself to buy Fish Burger at the Bakery [RM2]. Man, I hadn’t had my lunch.

After that, I was thirsty. As I sauntered towards the ice cream bar, Hakim toddled behind me.

"Angah nak beli ais krim."

"Hakim nak!"

"Kita share, ye?"

"Tak nak! Hakim nak makan sendiri!"

"Angah nak beli seringgit je. Share."

"Okay la."

"Angah pegang."

"Hakim nak pegang!"

"Angah pegang."

"Hakim nak pegang!"

"Biar. Angah makan sorang."

"Okey la okey la."

So I bought the RM1 choc-chip vanilla, since plain vanilla was not available. What a pity.

I paid and I licked. Hakim screamed. "Hakim nak pegang!"

"Angah pegang."

"Hakim nak!"

"Sape yang bayar?"

"Hakim!"

"Pandai betul…"

I sighed and licked.

He screamed.

I licked.

He screamed.

I sighed.

I stooped to his height and said, "Angah belikan yang baru."

He stopped. We walked away, hand in hand. He protested, gesturing towards the ice cream bar behind us.

"Angah beli tempat lain. Sini tak de ais krim dalam bekas."

We arrived at the other ice cream bar, the pink one called Dairy something. He scurried happily forward.

I licked and frowned at the price tag.

I leaned forward and studied the flavour available.

"Angah, cepat la beli!"

"Tunggu la. Nak pilih."

I chose the cookies and cream flavour and dug my Doraemon purse for the RM3 bill. Took the ice cream for the unsmiling cashier and gave it to grinning-all-over dearest little baby brother clad in a khaki jeans and black and white layered tee. Well, that’s how I describe it. Hakim call it baju raya.

I sighed in defeat. "Tak masuk akal langsung. Beli ke sendiri ais krim harga RM1, beli ke Hakim RM3…"

"Hah?" He asked from behind the pink ice cream spoon.

I didn’t do myself justice by going with the family. Everyone got something paid for them, except our independent miss here. [Mir got a new MP3, Hazim uniform, Harith uniform, Yaya a freaking pink shoes which won't be used at all, Hakim ice cream and whatsit]

I didn’t even get the black shirt I wanted. Pfft.

Mom said she’ll only buy a black leather shoes for my college. I wanted a sneakers. Where is the justice? Where is the love?

Pfft.

So I wasted around RM6 for food. Yeah, great. Just great.

Wishing you guys a happier day ahead.