just minishorts.

So I got bored.

When Fairytale-land had its inaugural Miss Fairytale Princess pageant, the evil stepmother was horrified to find her pesky little black-hair, skin-as-white-as-snow stepdaughter was voted ‘The Most Beautiful Woman’ in the entire nation. She stormed into the tower, and pulled the velvet covers off her beloved magic mirror.

‘Oh, Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them?’ she moaned vainly.

The mirror said, ‘Woman, I told you you were going to lose the pageant, you didn’t listen. For God’s sake, you’re a QUEEN, not a Princess, and you’re a Mrs, not a Miss!’

The stupid queen tossed her blonde head and sighed so loudly that the mirror took pity on her and said, ‘Now what?’

‘Oh, Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, I still want to be the fairest of them all.’
‘Go bleach yourself to be fair. There’s Fair and Lovely, although some say, that SK II Facial Treatment Essence not only makes you as white as alabaster, it will also make your skin go “doink doink” if you press on it.’
‘OK, but I want to get rid of Snow White still.’

‘Hmmm,’ thought the mirror for a while. ‘Send her away lor.’

So the queen did precisely that.

Poor pretty Snow White, with her-skin-as-white-as-snow was wailing when she was sent out of the castle into the dark woods. Her tears flowed freely and she felt as if her heart was going to break.

But Snow White was a strong lady, and she decided that she would live as happily as she could, despite no being able to reign as Fairytale Princess any more. After a while she arrived in a clearing in the woods, and there was a very cute little house whose roof was just slightly over her head.

‘What a cute little house!’ said Snow White, and like the typical spoilt Princess that she was, decided to walk into the house without even knocking on the door.

The deco inside was almost as cute. Cute, because everything was in miniature size, the tables, the chairs, the tables; almost, because it was very messy, almost as if seven drunkards were high on booze before they decided to go to work in the morning, and there was the stench of alcohol all over the place.

At least Snow White loved cleanliness, so she decided to do the owners a little favour—she cleaned up the house. She swept, she polished, she mopped, she washed, and it was only whenshe was finally done did she realize that there were seven sets of everything (in cute miniature sizes) in the cute little house.

‘Seven little people must live in this place,’ thought Snow White. And then she gave a little yawn, and decided that she must take a rest. She walked into the bedroom (which she had cleaned up), and pushed the beds together to make one big bed, and with another yawn, she fell ‘plunk’ into the bed, and started to snore.

The dwarfs, who owned the little house, were in fact quite hamsap little fellas. They even had their very own ‘marching’ song, and I tell you, that was the most screwed up song you could ever hear of in the entire Fairytale-land (so next time, please don’t let your kids listen to it). Every time it was allowed for them to stop the mine-digging and go home, the leader of the pack would go, ‘Heigh-ho!’

And they would sing and sing the horrid song (completely unabridged, by the way, please use your imagination, it really is quite screwed) all the way home.

We dig dig dig dig dig dig dig in our mine the
whole day through
To dig dig dig dig dig dig dig is what we really like to do
It ain't no trick to get rich quick
If you dig dig dig with a shovel or a pick
In a mine! In a mine! In a mine! In a mine!
Where a million diamonds shine!

We dig dig dig dig dig dig dig from early morn till night
We dig dig dig dig dig dig dig up everything in sight
We dig up diamonds by the score
A thousand rubies, sometimes more
But we don't know what we dig 'em for
We dig dig dig a-dig dig

Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho
Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho
Heigh-ho

Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho
It's home from work we go

Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho

Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho
Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho
Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho
Heigh-ho hum

Heigh-ho

Today they reached home and to their gleeful surpise, they found Snow White sprawled across their seven beds, snoring like a baby.

Happy was the first to speak up. ‘A babe! In our bed!’
Sleepy said, ‘I’m feeling sleepy.’
Sneezy said, ‘She’s so luscious I feel like I can sneeze on her.’
Grumpy went, ‘Don’t you dare. She’s mine.’
Dopey said, ‘You think she can feel me or not?’
Bashful said, ‘I think I’m kind of small…’

Finally, the cleverest of them all, Doc, said, ‘Kids, it is always good to share a good thing. Sharing is caring.’

And then, they started to sing another version of their screwed up song (this is abridged):

We will lick lick lick lick lick lick her tits the whole day through
To lick lick lick lick lick lick lick is what we really like to do
It ain't no trick to get hard quick
If you lick lick lick with a finger or a dick
In her mine! In her mine! In her mine! In her mine!
Where a million sperms will shine!

Because they sang so loudly, Snow White woke up with a loud shock, and at the sight of the seven hamsap dwarfs, she started to scream. But it was no mistaking the hungry look on the seven ugly faces, and poor little Snow White curled into a corner, praying as hard as she could for a handsome prince to save the day.

Just then, there was the loud sound of a shotgun bang.

‘You seven amigos! It is not nice to scare the pretty lady,’ said a booming voice.

All seven heads and the pretty skin-as-white-as-snow face looked up to see a guy in a cowboy hat.

Bashful was first, ‘Oh. Hello!’
Dopey was next, ‘Your hat, so cute!’
Grumpy growled, ‘Get out of the house.’
Happy was nicer, ‘Came to join the fun?’
Sneezy sneezed in shock, ‘Ah—tish—shoo!’
Sleepy yawned.

And the cleverest of them all, Doc, said, ‘Who are you?’

The visitor said, ‘My name is Cowboy Caleb, from the island down south, and I am here to stop this disgusting behaviour. Get away from the girl.’

Doc, the official smart-ass spokesperson of the seven dwarfs, said again, ‘We ain’t never heard of some Cowboy Caleb. Get the hell out of our house.’

‘Only if the girl leaves with me.’
‘But we’re not done with her yet!’
‘You don’t interfere with something that ain’t bothering you none,’ said the Cowboy, reloading his shotgun. ‘You touch a single hair of hers and I will make sure your seven little birds will go flying out the window there.’

By this time, Snow White had rushed to the brave man’s side.

Doc said to the rest, ‘Looks like we’re in a hole. It’s time to let her go.’

They nodded, fearful at the thought that their birds would go flying away.

The Cowboy said again, ‘Now you ugly little dwarfs, remember that every time you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.’

They all said in unison, ‘Yes, sir.’

‘And you don’t touch pretty girls with skin-as-white-as-snow.’
‘Yes sir!’
‘Now get move away, and stop singing that song.’

The dwarfs nodded and obeyed, and moved aside to give way to Cowboy Caleb and Snow White the babe.

With that, Cowboy Caleb, with his new-found skin-as-white-as-snow babe friend, made their way into the forest. Now that they were both dwarf-less and stepmother-less, they lived happily ever after.

Kids-friendlier than the last.

Hansel and Gretel's mother died when they were born (at the same time, both wanting to exit into the human world AT THE SAME TIME) and henceforth their father found it difficult to attend to crying twins who just wouldn't shut-the-fuck up no matter how often he yelled at them. So in a desperate effort to discipline the brats, he married the local headmistress.

At first, things were good, because the brats did look as if they were finally behaving themselves. Alas, this was short-lived, because they pretended to be nice on the front (and also because they were scared of the fierce-looking headmistress), but inside, really, they were naughty. Not bad, but very, very naughty.

One day, the stepmother decided to do something really drastic to discipline the two and teach them a lesson, so to speak. So, she said to her husband, 'Look, you and me both know we married not for love, but for the sake of your two stupid brats. And I'm not doing anything good for them. I say we teach them a lesson.'

'But what lesson can we possibly teach them?' asked the man, eager to utilize any option at hand.

'Listen,' and the stepmother proceeded to tell her husband about her lesson plan for the next day.

Next morning, the kids were each given a basket of bread and told that they were going out on a picnic to watch Mother Nature at work. Their stepmother gave them a very brief lecture on the do's and don'ts of going on walks through woods.

'Now Hansel and Gretel, remember what I have told you,' she said.

The two replied in a sing-song chant, 'Follow your lead, hold each's hands; not to skip, not to leap, walk ahead, heads up straight.'

'And…?'
'Not to sprinkle breadcrumbs on the ground, 'else birds will come and peck them all…'
'And…?'
'Not to answer to any stranger and not to buy porn from the DVD seller.'
'Some more leh?'
'To call out to you whenever the sign "Big Sale" comes in sight.'

Satisfied that her two stepchildren were able to recite her outing rules flawlessly, the stepmother said, 'Clever children. Come let's go.'

And they went skipping down the yellow brick road that led to the woods in Fairytale-land.

Unfortunately, Hansel, and Gretel were not very good children and everything that their stepma said not to do was something that they just had to do. So Hansel started to pick at his bread and the crumbs just fell and fell to the ground. Gretel saw a cottage with the sign 'Big Sale', but she decided to just seal her mouth and walk with a slouch. There wasn't any DVD seller walking past them though, so rest assured the kids didn't buy any porn.

And because the two did not follow their stepmother's lead, after a while, Hansel and Gretel soon found that they were both lost.

'She's not here anymore,' said Hansel first, noticing that their mother was no longer walking in the front.
'I saw a signboard that said "Big Sale" behind,' Gretel offered.
'Where?'
'Behind lah… cannot remember already.'
'Urm. So how now?'
'I think we're lost.'
'I think so too.'

The sky was getting darker, and their stepmother was nowhere in sight. The shadows of the forest trees were falling upon them, and dinner-time was approaching.

'Hungry-lah,' said Gretel first, finally giving in to the rumble in her belly.
'Me too,' said Hansel.
'So how?'
'Dunno.'
'Got bread or not.'
'I was picking at it just now so the birds have eaten the fallen crumbs I think. I thought you had a basket too.'
'Stepma took my basket.'

Well, now they had nothing to eat and nowhere to go, the poor children were very, very scared.

Then, they saw it, a light, just not too far away

'There's a light there!' cried Hansel, pleased to find shelter. 'Come let's walk towards it.'

A short while later, they arrived at a very quaint little cottage. At first glance, the cottage looked quite normal, just like any other cottage. As they approached the building and things got into focus, they thought that it was odd that there was a very pungent smell coming out from the building. The entire building looked as if were made from chocolate.

'Is it made of chocolate?' Gretel whispered to her brother.
'It looks like chocolate.'
'It doesn't smell like chocolate. It smells like rotten fish.'
'Well, someone must live in there. Let's just go and knock on the door and ask for some food,' said Hansel finally, grabbing his sister's hand and walking towards the door.

They were about to knock on the door when it opened with a burst. A huge orange-striped cat leaped out, followed by a very big man with an enormous rolling pin.

'YOU STUPID CAT!' shrieked the man. The two children were so shocked, they toppled over, and the cat disappeared into the woods. The big man walked around his compound saying, 'Here kitty, kitty, kitty,' but the cat was long gone. Finally, he turned around and saw the two children, who were just trying to stand up.

'Oh! Children!' said the man. 'What can I do for you, my dears?'

Hansel, as the older, said first, 'Sir, we're lost, and we'd like to have some food, please.'

'And if you permit, sir, a telephone for us to call our stepma,' added Gretel earnestly.

'Come, come, come in,' said the man. 'I was just making dinner when that stupid cat came in and stole my luncheon meat. But I've other dishes, if you don't mind. And don't call me sir, call me Uncle Belacan.'

At this, the children stared at each other. They now understood, that this strange man's house, was made not of chocolate, but of pungent-smelling belacan! How odd!

Even odder was the layout of dishes on the dining table. Every single dish was cooked with belacan! There was Kangkung Belacan, Nasi Goreng Kampung Belacan, Petai Belacan (this one stank horribly) and Sambal Udang Belacan.

At the sight of the dishes, children decided they were not hungry anymore. Like most children, they hated belacan completely, just as much as they hated fruits like durian, or soya products like Smelly Beancurd. Their appetites dwindled.

Hansel quickly said, 'Errr… Uncle Belacan, on second thoughts, could we borrow your phone?'

The kind man smiled, 'Ah of course. You want to call your mummy? She's got a handphone, yes, no?'

They dialled for their stepmother, who had indeed gone to the Big Sale. A few minutes later, she was at the house, apologizing profusely on behalf of her children.

'So sorry, so sorry,' said the stepmother. 'My children are very kurang ajar, did they do anything bad?'

Uncle Belacan said, 'Oh, no no, not at all. They just look scared. But please, please do stay for dinner.'

To their horror, their stepmother agreed to have dinner with the strange uncle with the fascination for belacan! They pretended to be full, and their hungry stomachs were never filled. And to top it up, they spent the entire night breathing through their mouths and by the time they got home, even two hours in the hot shower would not rub the smell of belacan off them.

It was a very hard lesson learnt, for not being obedient.

From that day onwards, Hansel and Gretel, became very good twins. They always walked after their stepmother, and listen to what she said. But whenever their stepmother suggested a visit to the kind Uncle Belacan's belacan-built cottage, they would feign sickness and go without dinner.

The End.

This part of my life. What I'm going through now. Look, it's not the work stress, it's called release. What I'm doing, every single day of my life, for the past two weeks, if it wasn't clearly explicated already, is reading, and reading, and reading storybooks meant for children aged seven to nine.

And then, from there, I'm supposed to use my 'expertise' (yes, it's true, I do have expertise in this), to select the most suitable ones for a series of educational materials. In the process, I'm to come up with adaptations.

That's my job. That's what I do for a living. This is my bread and butter, now. And no, I'm not complaining because it's hell of a job and I really, really like it.

When you stumbled upon here, a long time ago, I was in my SECOND YEAR of University, my ambition was vague, I had somewhat a vision of myself standing in front of a bunch of bored-to-death varsity kids, trying to explain in laymen's terms, the differences between syntax and morphology. And now I'm somewhat there, except I don't meet the students, I communicate with words. It's not exactly what I imagined, but you've heard enough of me bragging about how all these is far beyond 'achievement' for me.

Every single day of my life, right now, I flip through compilations of Bedtime Stories. Every single morning I wake up at 7.00, take a bath, and by 7.45 I'm on the road, and 20 minutes later seated at the computer booting things up, and drinking my daily dose of mocha (Nescafe campur Milo lah what else). And then, after a while, I start to read, and read. In between page-flipping, I surf blogs sometimes, or chat to friends who are online. It isn't always that a story is worth adapting for the materials I do, as demonstrated, the sensitivities that may arise are just… endless.

I leave the book reading/story writing at 5.30, and at the end of the day, I'm a larder full of screwed up inspirations that are just DYING to be let loose, but can't for the sake of practical logic. The end result is this.

And yes, recently, being nice and cuddly is getting to my nerves. Previously it wasn't as bad because I was doing books for the upper levels, but now that the target market's 7 to 9 year olds, please, have a heart, and understand the pains that I'm going through these days.

So what is it that you don't get? I have a life too, and what you're seeing here, is the exact translation of what I am living for. This is the way I earn my bowl of rice, and like it or not, you will have to live with it. Otherwise, find some other person who was as 'hopeful' and 'melancholic' as I was, when I was a kid.

No, honestly. I have not recently just started to become more blatantly loose with my dispensal of the four-letter word. The word has been embedded within me for quite sometime already, and while previously it did sound a wee bit foul to be cussing with the four-letter F*** word all the time, I have since begun to view it as a simpler way to convey my meanings, especially when it comes to the extra-intense ones that need more 'ooomph'.

Apropos, the four-letter word has been recognized to be one of the most versatile words in the f***ing universe, as demonstrated by this over-circulated flash, and in (what I have recognized as) my limited lexiconal capacity I have merely reduced several parts of my speech to this singular but extremely diverse dictionary-entry. Also, I wanted to help you understand things more.

Besides, it makes things more interesting too, as demonstrated below in an otherwise mad-mix of adjectives/adverbs/verbs/etc, etc.

Did you hear about that blasphemous tale about the resident shorts-wearing elf that tried to silence the atrocious parrot with the defunct tongue that wouldn't stop wagging? Well, she did it in the sincerest hope that the move would bring wondrous joy to the entire jungle.

That was very civilized and boring. The four-letter word can spruce things up.

Did you hear about that fucking tale about the fuckilicious resident shorts-wearing elf that tried to silence the fucked-up parrot with the fucked-up tongue that just wouldn't stop fucking? Well, she fucking did it in the fuckerest hope that that fucking move would bring fuckrous joy to the entire fucking jungle.

So, as you see, it has so far served its purpose well, and I believe it shall continue to be a loyal servant of its master (a.k.a. me). And I hope this post will further convince you that I am not fucking fucked with my fucked life.

21SX, underaged kids have been forewarned.

You all thought The Big Bad Wolf was bad. Well, 'bad' is an understatement. He was atrociously evil with a screwed-up mind. I mean, here was an openly disgusting 'wolf-anizer' that went around fucking every single she-wolf who would stupidly fall into his hairy palms. He caused such a mess in the wolf community that he was ousted and told to go far, far away and never come back.

Now, what is a poor sex-hungry wolf to do when he's lost his main supply of succulent females? Roaming the woods and mourning his pain for the ultimate shame and loss, The Big Bad Wolf was full of remorse for all the sins that he had commited against members of his fellow species.

But criminals don't usually repent so easily. So as he plodded along amongst the forest woods, his pricky nose sensed the distinctive scent of warm, female blood. As expected, evil thoughts crowded his mind.

He saw a cottage in a clearing. He decided to explore his obvious options.

'A female must reside in this quaint little cottage, and this early in the dawn she must be fast asleep,' thought The Big Bad Wolf, gleefully rubbing his hairy palms against each other. Then he set out on all fours and trespassed the borders between Man and Wolf. He climbed in through the bedroom window, and to his disgust, he saw an old ah-mah instead of a young woman.

Now old women don't sleep that easily, and hearing the thud of four legs against the carpets of her bedroom was enough to startle this grandmother out of bed.

'Oh,' she sat up. 'A wolf.'

'I'm sorry, I must have come into the wrong place,' said the wolf, turning around to leave out of the window again.

'Please. Stay a bit, I've been lonely for a while,' said the old lady in the bed, reaching out her bony fingers (which were covered by a very thin layer of wrinkled skin).

'You're not my type,' said the wolf.

'They all say that,' started the old lady, and as she told her tale of her post-menopausal sex-less life, two humongous tear drops started to roll down her wrinkled cheeks.

Poor Big Bad Wolf was trapped. He didn't like to see old ladies cry, so he decided to stay. As a result he had to endure a very long Grandmother Story.

'…they all don't want to fuck me anymore, and all because they say that I'm no longer taunt and tight, and also because they all want to fuck my silly little 10-year-old granddaughter who trots around the woods calling herself 'Little Red Riding Hood' like some paedophile-inviting bitch,' sobbed the deprived woman, blowing her crumpled nose with a tissue. 'She's just coming today again in the afternoon with some fruit cake and wine.'

Now Big Bad Wolves don't usually take pity on people, and if it is to be assumed so, you must always associate that act of pity with a far more evil motive. Obviously, the Big Bad Wolf wanted more, and Little Red Riding Hood sounded like 'more'. So he decided to be nice to the poor old lady.

'Well, you poor old lady, is there anything I can do for you?' asked the Big Bad Wolf, sounding genuinely caring.

The old lady sniffled, 'There's really nothing, Wolfie-boy… just that, I haven't made love in a very long time, and it would be…'

Well, old or young, a female is still a female, so the wolf kindly obliged. 'It will be a pleasure, my lady.'

Unfortunately, when you are old, you just can't take very strenous exercise, so in the midst of all that intense love-making, the old woman had a heart attack and died. But she died in an orgasmic climax, so I must say she was extremely happy when she died.

The wolf was not so pleased though. Bad enough that he was a grandmother-fucker, he was now a dead-grandmother fucker. See, Little Red Riding Hood was just coming around the corner (he could hear her 10-year-old voice singing her arrival a far distance away), and it just wouldn't do for a little girl to find her grandmother lying naked and dead in bed.

So stuffing the wrinkled dead body into the broom closet, the wolf frantically put on the old woman's clothes, jumped into the old woman's bed, and pulled the covers up his hairy body. Then he waited.

The door creaked open and in walked Little Red Riding Hood, wearing, surprise, surprise, a Red Hooded Cloak.

'Oh Grandmother, I'm here again, with fruit cake and wine,' said the little girl, who was 10-years-old but looked 14, and had tiny bumps for breasts, and 'who obviously wasn't wearing a bra,' thought the wolf. He felt his manhood bulging, and made an extra effort to smoothen his voice.

'Hello, my Little Red Riding Hood,' said the wolf. 'Come a little closer my dear, so that I may see you.'

The unassuming picture of innocence moved to the bed. She sensed something wrong immediately, and said, 'Oh Grandmother, what big ears you have!'

'All the better to hear you with, my dear.'

The little girl squinted, 'Oh Grandmother, what a big nose you have.'

'All the better to smell you with, my dear.'
'Oh Grandmother, what big and hairy hands you have!'
'All the better to stroke you with, my dear.'
'Oh Grandmother, what a big mouth you have!'
'All the better to kiss you with, my dear!'
'Oh Grandmother, what…'

'Oh shut the fuck up you little bitch,' cried the wolf, unable to restrain any longer, he leaped out of bed and the little girl was in shock to see a wolf instead of her grandmother.

'You're going to eat me?!' she shrieked as he ripped the clothes off her.

'If you like, my dear,' said the wolf. 'And I will lick you, and suck you, and do everything that I wanted to do…'

And she screamed and screamed then in the shock of all things fell unconscious, leaving her bare body open to the assault of The Big Bad Wolf.

Just as the wolf was about to penetrate the little damsel in distress, a voice said, 'Do I find you here, you old sinner. I have long sought you.'

It was the famed Kennysia, and he was here to save the day.

The wolf looked up from his aroused slowness, and starred at this unwanted intrusion. 'Who are…'

'I am your friendly neighbourhood blogger, with balls the size of coconuts, and they say you are The Big Bad Wolf,' said Kennysia.

'Pity, I have never seen balls the size of coconuts before,' mumbled The Big Bad Wolf and moved away from the knocked-out girl, to examine this loud-mouthed intruder. 'Now get the fuck out and leave me to my business.'

'You're not big at all,' said Kennysia. 'In fact, you are just tiny. Your namesake is a hoax.'

Now if you be a woman, you'd know that any man, would be insulted to be told that he was tiny. So The Big Bad Wolf got really pissed.

'Oh. Like you're so big lah,' said the wolf.
'Yes I am. I have a Big Bird,' Kennysia said.
'And your balls?'
'They're the size of coconuts.'
'Sure boh?'
'Come we compare and see,' dared the wolf.
'OK. And if I win?'
'I will leave the girl alone, and confess to all my sins in the world, including the fucked dead grandmother in the broom closet.'
'Deal.'

And Kenny dropped his pants.

The wolf stared. He had never seen such a yellow and feathered Big Bird in his entire life. Compared to his one hairy tiny bird, this was surely the biggest he had ever encountered. And the balls, GAWD, they were just spillingly huge, like coconuts.

'See? I told you I would win,' said Kenny. 'Now begone, and never come back. Otherwise you will suffer a very painful death.'

And that, my friends, was how the famed Kennysia got rid of The Big Bad Wolf, and saved poor Little Red Riding Hood.

PS: The Grandmother didn't die, by the way. She was old, so when people are old, when they breathe, its very slow, and by the time the wolf was gone, the dust in the broom closet had gagged the old lady so much, she came out coughing and sneezing. So at the end of the day, Little Red Riding Hood was reunited with her grandmother, and the old lady was happy because she was fucked, even at the age of 85.