Random Pips

Et Ego, Shakespeare

Winluck — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 09:33:42 +0000

By: Winluck Wong

I’m bringing a change-up to the language,
Disentangling from the chains hanging us
To the flow of the now-dull quill of ol’ Will.
Hold it – don’t misinterpret this as a dis,
But do admit that there’s a certain disconnect
With your sect of the written spit.
It’s the times, not your rhymes,
That put this knife in your side –
March Ides mean nothing if you note the marching tides.
So please receive this apology as we switch to the contemporary
And be content that no contempt is meant
For your heaven-sent poetry.

Copyright © 2011 Winluck Wong
http://randompips.com/

Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Poetry

Right Back Atcha, Santa

Winluck — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 16:21:42 +0000

Dear Santa,

How are you? I know this letter may come as a shock because it’s been awhile since I’d written you. Gosh, when was the last time? My memory’s a bit hazy, but I think it was the evening of November 18, 1993.

I was walking home from school that day and I was pretty sure I saw one of those Putties from Mighty Morphin Power Rangers scampering down an alley. As you know, Putties are nasty little buggers, hell-bent on destroying Earth and must be eliminated when spotted. So when I got home, I immediately sat down to write you a request for my very own Power Morpher, which would give me the abilities to “take care” of that Putty. I sent off the letter and spent every day for the next few weeks checking the mailbox for your reply. Nothing came from the North Pole though.

When Christmas Eve rolled around, I thought, “Well, maybe Santa didn’t reply because he wanted to surprise me with the Power Morpher on Christmas Day.” On the morning of Christmas Day, I discovered that you got me a sweater. It was a couple sizes too large – presumably so that I could grow into it. That was very thoughtful of you, Santa. Thank you.

But an oversized sweater is a far cry from a Power Morpher though. I was – I hope you can understand – quite distraught because that Putty was probably still running around somewhere, Earth was bound to be destroyed soon, and the only way to save the world was with a Power Morpher, but all I had was this stupid sweater that doesn’t have any special powers except making me itch like crazy.

Anyway, I stopped writing to you since then. For the longest time, I admit that I was convinced you are secretly an evil villain and possibly not even human. However, years passed and I moved on, eventually forgetting your existence along with my deep resentment of you. It wasn’t until a couple weeks ago when I saw a creepy replica of you on the sidewalk in front of a furniture store that I thought of you again.

So, here I am…um…hi. Things are so different now after my last letter to you. I now realize how silly it was for me to have hated your guts for so long. I’m taller now – not by a lot though so don’t expect me to tower over you or anything. I breezed through elementary school and went to high school with an inflated ego because I was the best of the best at playing “Cops and Robbers” during recess. But I quickly discovered that I wasn’t really cut out to be a high school jock. I got glasses and then pimples soon after and that was it for me for the rest of my high school career. I went to college to prepare for the real world and had a revelation at a nearby pub that vodka is the bane of my existence. Rye whiskey, on the other hand, is excellent – it complements my existence very nicely.

The world’s changed quite a bit, too. Your home/workshop has gotten a little smaller – you’re losing ice shelves left, right, and centre. I’m sorry to hear that. Global warming’s a bitch, but if you debate about it enough, you’d come across as a really progressive human. We’ve got planes crashing into towers, wars being waged against intangible things like “Terror” itself, flu bugs going on a killing rampage, and greedy bastards gobbling up everything and shitting out messed-up economies.

It’s a mad world we live in these days and things have gotten so out of hand lately that I decided to turn to you for help once again. I realize you probably get “world peace” as a Christmas wish a lot so I’ll make this request of mine short and sweet.

Over the years, there’s this thing called the “Internet” that has developed into a massive and instantaneous information network stretching across the entire world. If you poke around the Internet long enough, you’d find some really neat stuff. For instance, did you know that there are actually replicas of Power Morphers that exist out there? That’s right, I now know that you could’ve gotten me a Power Morpher when I politely asked for it back in 1993. Maybe if you had given me one, I could’ve hunted down that Putty’s sorry-ass and the world would’ve been a better place than it is now.

So, this is all your fault, Santa. Oh, now you’re feeling guilty? Well, give me my fucking Power Morpher – with Velociraptor powers since the Pink Ranger stole my favourite dinosaur – before I invest all my time and energy into destroying you and your motherfuckin’ elves. You don’t want to mess with me because, as you may have guessed, I hang on to grudges for a very, very long time.

Sincerely,

Winluck

Filed under: Humour, People, Politics, World Tagged: Humour, People, Politics, World

Seduction Of Us

Winluck — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 01:28:19 +0000

By: Winluck Wong

Hush –
The resounding pound beneath your blouse
Is drowning out all vows to carouse.

Blush –
The dissuading blockade in your space
Fades for our gazes to interlace.

Fuss –
There you prepare for the quick repair
To the fairness of your flawless hair.

Trust –
That this is the risk you cannot miss,
The infinite bliss admist our kiss.

Rush –
To dispose the clothes which do enclose
The most glowing ode one can compose.

Lust –
Discard the too-guarded avatars
And embark on the arc to the stars.

Thrust –
Into the grip of a blithe rhythm,
Rich hisses bridging every shism.

Thrust –
Then bend to orient the intent
And sense the tense imminent ascent.

Thrust –
For the sweet release of our physique,
The steep zeal of reaching the peak.

Us –
Entwined in a binding state of mind,
Inspired by desire in kind.

Copyright © 2011 Winluck Wong
http://randompips.com/

Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Poetry

Memories In Chaos

Winluck — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 11:43:43 +0000

By: Winluck Wong

“We’ve got it pinned down now. There’s no way out of this alley. Get the net ready,” Tavrin Guan hissed, catching his breath against a dumpster. He crouched on the balls of his feet as his friend stretched a makeshift net of clotheslines and stones across the narrow alleymouth behind him. Gripping a pipe in his hand, Tavrin whirled around the dumpster.

Their quarry frantically scurried from one corner of the dead end to the other as Tavrin closed in on it. Desperately, it dove past his legs and made a mad dash back towards the alleymouth. It realized its mistake when it slammed into the net, its momentum causing the weighted ends to whip around into doomed embrace. A second later, Tavrin put an end to its survival woes with a blow to the skull.

“Well, it looks like we won’t have to go to bed hungry tonight,” said Tavrin, eyeing the limp form of the coon with satisfaction.

“Yeah man, I really don’t think I can stomach another night of rat,” Bost Milone agreed with a grimace. “You think this’ll last us until the next ration day?”

“I think so. As long as we spread it out and choke down the rats we caught earlier today, we should be good.”

“Unless they cancel the supply drop again,” Bost muttered.

Tavrin leaned his head back against the wall wearily. Each passing day of life under the Imperium has been getting grimmer for the past few years – not that it was very bright down here in the slums to begin with.

He gazed enviously up at the hovering skyplates that blotted out huge expanses of the sky. If only he were of nobility, he’d be able to take his mother up to one of those floating cities and settle in a warm home with proper food shipped from Mars itself. Even if he were just the lowliest of nobles and received a tiny apartment, he’d find some way to make room for Bost and his kid sister, too. But to be nobility would mean having to join the Imperium military and he wanted nothing to do with them.

“Hey, remember that time when we got a Martian bov steak?” Bost piped up, breaking through the gloomy silence. He closed his eyes and grinned. “Man, I have the taste of every bite memorized forever.”

Tavrin smiled. It was the coronation day of Emperor Commodus the 2nd and as His first decree of benevolence, He had opened up the Imperial storehouses to provide every family with a delicacy – commoners were finally able to get a taste of what they could only dream about before.

The Emperor promised that His benevolence would continue and asked only for His subjects to serve three years in the garrisons of the Imperium’s frontier planets. There was hesitation at first as everyone knew that the frontier planets were the most vulnerable to enemy attack. For close to a millennia now, the Imperium has been fighting an endless war with the other two human factions in the galaxy: the rebellious so-called Celestial Alliance and the mysterious, alien-infested Babylonians.

The Emperor then proclaimed that those who were willing to serve on the frontier planets would only have to perform patrol duties since skirmishes with the enemies have dwindled to a standstill for five years already as each faction took the time to regroup and rebuild. Most importantly, anyone who serves there would have their families provided for. These words sealed the commoners’ loyalty to him and they flocked from all over the Imperium to enlist.

Tavrin’s father was one of them. That night ten years ago, the whole family saw him off to the troop transport ships. He gently brushed the tears away from everyone’s cheeks, consoling them that three years would pass in a blink of an eye.

He gripped Tavrin by the shoulders. “Take care of your mother. Look after Bost and little Lia, too – we’re all the family they have. I’m counting on you, son.”

Three years came and went, but there was still no sign of his father’s return. When another year passed, they begged the Imperium officials for any news of his father. It soon became clear that every family whose loved one boarded the troop transport ships had not heard anything either.

The Imperium officials maintained their silence until Emperor Commodus the 2nd finally announced that the commoner troops were to remain on the frontier garrisons indefinitely. Chaos erupted all across the Imperium as the commoners lashed out in fury at the Emperor’s treachery. But He had been ready for just such an uprising all along.

Shock troopers from the Imperial Guard had been covertly deployed to orbit every Imperium planet months before the Emperor made His announcement. The moment the first riots broke out, the shock troopers immediately dropped down on every planet surface. Together with the Imperial Guard troops already stationed on the surfacesides, all resistance was quickly and ruthlessly stamped out.

Within days, martial law was imposed and heavily enforced throughout the Imperium. The Emperor declared that the Imperium would be commencing a new offensive on the Celestial Alliance and the Babylonians to bring them within the embrace of the Imperium. All resources and able-bodied humans were to be commandeered for the offensive, which made the tough life down in the slums of Earth even harder. The only way to survive in the slums now is to scavenge and rely on the supply drops, which are getting less and less regular.

Tavrin squinted at the waning light from the small patch of sky above them. “Let’s get back home, Bost. Curfew’s coming up.”

Bost stuffed the coon carcass into his pack along with the four rats they had caught earlier today and slung it onto his back. Tavrin rearranged his cloak over the pack and they set off.

They stuck to the shadows and avoided the streets covered by harsh spotlights, some of which were already being activated to sweep for any movements. Loudspeakers on every corner began blaring the curfew warning announcement: “Curfew will come into effect in thirty minutes. Please promptly return to your residences and remain there until seven o’clock in the morning. Any person or persons found in a non-residential zone during curfew will be met with severe consequences. Thank you for obeying the law as decreed by the Emperor, may He live for ten thousand years.”

Tavrin and Bost finally turned into the main street leading to their residential zone. They pulled up their hoods and changed their gaits to those of two weary old men. Following closely behind a group of commoners, they slowly shuffled past the watchful eyes of the Imperial Guard patrolling the street.

Suddenly, another commoner sidled up next to Bost. “I think you should give me whatever goodies you have in that pack there, old man,” the commoner rasped in a harsh whisper.

Bost turned around to confront the stranger and his hood slipped off slightly. The stranger’s eyes widened in shock.

“You’re a – ”

“I think you best be on your way,” Tavrin growled as his knife flashed out against the stranger’s ribs.

“Yes, yes…of course,” the stranger whispered, backing away. He narrowed his eyes at them and scurried away.

“Do you think he noticed…”

“I don’t know,” Tavrin said, glaring at the stranger’s back disappearing into an alley. He adjusted the hood on Bost and began shuffling forward. “He’s got a crazy look in his eyes though so maybe no one would believe him even if he reported us. But we should be on the lookout tonight, just to be on the safe side.”

They continued on and let out a huge sigh of relief when they finally reached the door of the shack they call home.

“Oh, thank Heaven you two are back!” Tavrin’s mother exclaimed as they entered. “What happened? Why were you so late? You’re usually back well before the curfew warning starts. I couldn’t even sit still all this time. I – I kept having visions of the Imperial Guard discovering you two. Oh, if that happens, I honestly have no idea what I’d do,” she sobbed.

“Ma, it’s alright. C’mon, Bost and I are really careful every time we’re out. We just got held up today ‘cause we wanted to give the family a treat,” Tavrin said, giving his mother and Lia a hug. “Show them what we’ve got, Bost.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Bost announced with a grin and a flourish of his cloak. “It is my honour to present to you the finest and most rare delicacy of Earth: coon! And some assorted rats, of course.” He presented the pack to Tavrin’s mother with a bow.

“Oh, Bost – always the entertainer. This will be a wonderful change to our meals,” she laughed. “I don’t know about you kids, but I have had quite enough of rats myself. There’s really only so many different ways you can cook them.”

Tavrin, Bost, and Lia wrinkled their noses at each other as Tavrin’s mother headed to the kitchen to prepare the coon.

“So when can I go out on a scavenging hunt with you guys?” Lia piped up as Tavrin and Bost dusted off their cloaks.

“When you can finally beat me in an arm wrestle,” Bost replied. Lia stuck her tongue out at him.

“Tavrin?”

“It’s really dangerous out there. We haven’t taught you everything you need to know to be safe yet,” Tavrin said. “Besides, you’re the only one who knows exactly how to keep Ma calm.”

“That’s not even a proper reason!”

“We’ll talk more tomorrow. Right now, let’s help Ma with getting dinner ready.”

It wasn’t long before the whole kitchen was filled with the tantalizing aroma of a hearty dinner. Tavrin and Bost set the table while Lia helped Tavrin’s mother to arrange the dishes.

They brought up their stools toward the table. “Well, this is just perfect. What better day to have such a feast than on your father’s birthday?” Tavrin’s mother sighed, hastily wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye. “Okay Lia, divvy up the dishes. Let’s eat.”

There was a solemn silence as Lia gave everyone their portions. Bost, as usual, tried to bring back the cheery mood. He glanced at his own bowl and stared at Tavrin’s.

“Hey Lia, Tavrin’s portion is definitely bigger than mine. Now why is that, I wonder?” Bost said with a wink.

Lia blushed and everyone smiled knowingly at her teenage crush on Tavrin. “Do you want more taken out of yours then?” she shot back. Bost quickly covered his bowl in mock horror at her suggestion.

It was the best meal they have had in a long time and they went to bed later than usual, chatting into the night. When Tavrin’s mother and Lia finally headed off to bed, Tavrin pulled Bost to the side.

“Okay, we’ll keep a lookout in two-hour shifts tonight. I’ll take the first one, alright?” Tavrin muttered. Bost nodded and went for bed.

Tavrin settled down on a stool by the door. For most of the first hour, he was on high-alert, listening to the eerie silence and the occasional whoosh of an Imperial Guard patrol hovercar. But it had been such a long day that he didn’t even notice himself leaning his head back on the wall and dozing off.

He bolted awake when he heard the sounds of heavy boots and shouts on the street outside. He peeked out the window from behind the curtain and surveyed the scene with a racing heart. Squads of Imperial Guard troops were being disgorged from hovercars and splitting off to cover every residence and the exits out of the residential area.

He ducked down immediately. A squad was heading straight for their front door. He rushed to wake up Bost, who went to wake Lia. Tavrin headed to his mother’s bed and told her an Imperial Guard squad is here for an inspection. Swallowing hard, she shuffled towards the front door just as it resounded with impatient pounding.

Tavrin and Bost lifted a hatch from the floor under the kitchen table and crawled in with all of their bedding. When Lia had safely replaced the hatch over them, Tavrin’s mother opened the door.

“This is an Imperial Guard inspection on suspicion of this residential area harbouring persons of military service capability. Please step aside for a search of these premises, ma’am,” barked the squad sergeant.

“Of course, sir, but it’s just my daughter and I living here,” Tavrin’s mother said with a tight smile.

“We’ll be the judge of that. Soldiers, you know what to do.”

The squad poured into the shack and confirmed that it only contained mother and daughter. The squad sergeant gazed around the shack and his glance fell on the kitchen. He strolled in and pulled open the fridge.

“That’s quite a lot of food for just the two of you,” commented the sergeant dryly as he turned to bore his eyes into Tavrin’s mother and Lia.

“I sometimes take care of a few of my friends’ children here during the day and they give us a bit of food to do so,” replied Tavrin’s mother as steadily as she could.

“I see. I guess we all have to make a living somehow in these hard times. Life must be very difficult for you indeed, especially with your daughter coming into military service age soon.”

“She still has a couple of years yet. But yes, it has been quite difficult, sir.”

“Well ma’am, I’m satisfied with our search here. If you don’t mind, I’m just going to perform a brief infrared scan of these premises to make sure there isn’t anyone who’s hiding out of eyesight. This won’t be a problem for you, I hope?”

Tavrin’s mother slowly shook her head. The sergeant gave her a thin smile and pulled out his scanner. It immediately gave off an incessant beep. The sergeant glanced down at the floor and stared at Tavrin’s mother for a few more seconds before shutting off the beeping scanner.

“I don’t know what to say, ma’am, as I was quite sure I gave you ample opportunity to be honest with me,” drawled the sergeant. “But unfortunately, you chose to disregard my efforts to make things easier on you all. So, civilities aside, let’s blow this cover wide open, shall we?”

The sergeant grasped one end of the table while another soldier stepped in on the other side to flip it over. The soldiers yanked the hatch open and reached down to pull out Tavrin and Bost. They struggled with all their might, but were quickly subdued and forced to kneel in front of the sergeant.

Tavrin’s mother cried out in despair and leapt at the sergeant. He shoved her back against the wall and struck her down with a vicious backhand.

“Ma’am, you are guilty of two counts of harbouring a person of military service capability – a crime which is punishable by death,” proclaimed the sergeant grimly. “This conviction would usually have been carried out before a magistrate, but in light of the lacking administrative support in these difficult times, you are hereby tried and convicted here on these premises, with my squad members as witnesses. I hope you reincarnate to a better life next time.”

With that, he drew his sidearm and shot her in the forehead, point blank. Tavrin, Bost, and Lia screamed simultaneously in shock as her body slumped to the floor. The sergeant turned to his soldiers without a second glance at the limp form of Tavrin’s mother.

“Take the girl to the cells. She can live out the two years left of her freedom there before serving in the Imperium military. Round up these two boys to the training facilities right away. Move out!”

“No! Bost! Tavrin! Help!” shrieked Lia as they dragged her away. Bost roared and bit the soldier holding him in the hand. Tavrin elbowed his captor in the stomach and in unison, they charged at the soldiers hauling Lia off. But they were only able to take two steps before stun bolts from the soldiers slammed into Tavrin and Bost.

Tavrin gazed weakly into his mother’s dimming eyes, still welling with endless tears, as Lia’s screams faded off into the distance. The blood-stained wall rippled and folded into the warped lines of the corrugated roof above before darkness consumed him completely.

***

You never really forget the soothing serenity of your mother’s womb as your infant self laid within, hearing only muffled echoes of the chaos in the outside world that you were shielded from. The memory is buried at the very core of your subconscious and is carefully preserved for the moments when the need to maintain an illusion of rippleless calm is all that prevents you from plunging into the churning undertow of insanity.

Even then, the memory only surfaces in fragments so fragile that the slightest shift in concentration shatters them into bursts of phosphorescence, leaving behind a vague imprint of their essence that is just enough to bolster your mind for a moment. It is no wonder that infants scream at their birth, acutely aware that they will never again experience such profound peace once they are brought into this roaring world.

Tavrin’s eyes snapped open as the roar crescendoed to drown out his own cry. Disoriented, he stared around wildly to take in the rows of soldiers strapped to their seats in front and to the sides of him. He looked down and realized that he was also in combat armour and was similarly strapped to his seat with a shoulder harness. Under the flickering red light in the cabin and the continuing roar, Tavrin’s memories slowly trickled back.

He is Corporal Tavrin Guan, serving with the 18th Massive Electronic Combat Hazard Armour (M.E.C.H.A.) Brigade of the Imperium Marine Corps for the glory of Emperor Commodus the 2nd, may He live for ten thousand years. The 18th M.E.C.H.A. Brigade is being mobilized to the Imperium’s frontier planets for an all-out assault against the Celestial Alliance and the Babylonians so that they may be brought to kneel before the Emperor, may He live for ten thousand years.

Tavrin shook his head. For a second, he thought there should have been more to his past than his loyal service to the Imperium. No, I’ve been a soldier all my life, he reminded himself. Fighting for the Imperium is all I’ve ever known.

As the troop transport ship passed Earth’s moon to approach the warp gate that would take them to the frontier planets, an image of a weary-looking woman with a boy and a girl laughing at a dinner table crossed through Tavrin’s mind. But the warp gate warning klaxon sounded at that moment and the image dissolved, lost in the entropy of hyperspace.

TO BE CONTINUED…

*Note: All historical timelines, worlds, and technologies in this story are the copyright of Ely Boivin.

Copyright © 2011 Winluck Wong
http://randompips.com/

Filed under: Fiction Tagged: Fiction

Here There Be Pirates And Ninjas

Winluck — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 05:46:56 +0000

Ahoy! Today be the perfect day to tell ye why we pirates will always lose to those landlubber ninjas. Aye, fer years, there be much tongue-waggin’ about who be bestin’ who in a brawl. Well, me lads and lassies, it saddens me heart to admit that we got nothin’ on them ninja scallywags.

They be dartin’ around through the air quicker than sailfish in the high seas. By the time yer eyeballs spy them on the right, they be stickin’ a mean blade between yer left ribs already. Got me a nasty scar under me second rib, that be how. If me nervous trigger finger did not twitch that time, me poor bones would have been fishbait, aye.

See, that be one of few advantages pirates have over ninjas: guns. But as deadly as they be when their shots rip through yer skull, they need steady hands…and that be mighty hard when ye be facin’ blighters who can vanish in smoke all the time and throw metal stars at yer quiverin’ throat. Arrr – metal stars! Only the Kraken’s hellspawn would dream of somethin’ so infernal.

There be one night that would drench me mind in bloody nightmares ferever. We hauled in a beauty of a loot that day and we be pinin’ fer some cheer with townsfolk in the evenin’. Everyone sure wanted to lick our bilge-soaked boots as soon as we flashed our gold around. We be stretchin’ our hands out and a tankard of grog or a pretty lassie’s bottom be appearin’ in them like magic. Aye, ’twas a grand night indeed.

When we had our fill at last, some of us staggered back to the ship. We called up to Riddlin’ John and Pounder Pete to drop the gangplank. No answer. Must have snuck some grog on watch, the pair of bilge rats. Well, it happens and why not on such a perfect moonlit night? So we climbed up the mooring lines and dropped down beside their drunken good-fer-nothin’ backs. Gave them a good kickin’ to wake them up, we did. But they be still as the moment before a terrible storm. We turned them over and backed away from their empty eyes and their still gurglin’ slit throats. Then, the storm crashed upon the ship.

The ninjas dropped down from the riggings, silent and dreadful in their ruthlessness. We be twistin’ here and there, squintin’ at the flashes of their blades and hackin’ at the shadows with our cutlasses. That be all they seem – just shadows in the night. Only difference being death follows wherever they pass. How can ye not quake in yer boots when nary a blade nor shot can touch these soulless shadows?

A slash brought fire to me spine, but it be one final thought that seared me core the most: Pirates be no match fer the ninjas.

Me mateys, heed me words very carefully. Take yer ship to the seas and only dock if absolutely necessary. And always, always check fer stowaways.

Lady Luck favoured me wretched soul that night. But alas, not tonight. If ye be reading this note, me life has already ebbed from the passin’ of a ninja shadow.

- Gamblin’ Ferdin, First Mate of the Black Dragon

[Message extracted from a corked glass bottle found at sea - date unknown]

(Image courtesy of: czesuaf on deviantART.com)

Filed under: Fiction, Humour Tagged: Fiction, Humour

Love For The Girl Who Waited

Winluck — Tue, 13 Sep 2011 13:03:58 +0000

Are you willing to risk all that you have become for the hope that love may be preserved? And are you willing to make that choice for someone you love? These are the moral dilemmas in “The Girl Who Waited”, another brilliant episode of Doctor Who this week.

What enthralled me the most is the beauty in the episode’s simplicity. It is not all about a bizarre alien threat that spurs the Doctor and his companions into a constant flurry of clang, battle, buzz, save, and whoosh – not that that is less enjoyable. I just find it refreshing that we are taken on a journey to the age-old intrigue of the human spirit, where we come face-to-face with our extraordinary will to survive and our exquisite ability to love.

*Warning: Spoiler Alert*

This episode reveals just how profound the love between Amy Pond and Rory Williams is, which fuels their simultaneous resolve to survive for each other or to sacrify themselves for each other. There is one particular scene where Amy describes her love for Rory, simply and perfectly:

“You know when sometimes you meet someone so beautiful and then you actually talk to them and five minutes later, they’re as dull as a brick? Then there’s other people, when you meet them, you think, “Not bad. They’re okay.” And then you get to know them and… and their face just sort of becomes them. Like their personality’s written all over it. And they just turn into something so beautiful. Rory’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

This entire episode hit all the right notes on my heartstrings. Call me a hopeless romantic – I would admit it. Because I feel that time and time again, it is our propensity to love that is our greatest saviour in the face of tragedy.

Amy Pond and Rory Williams in "The Girl Who Waited"

(Image courtesy of: KarenGillan.org)

Filed under: Fiction, People Tagged: Fiction, People

Interview With A Juiced-Up Moose

Winluck — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 01:00:52 +0000

In case you ever wondered, moose are about the most mellow drunks you can find. The wildest shenanigan they would get up to is probably trying to climb a tree, succeeding, and then not understanding why descending is such a difficult task.

That’s exactly what happened to a moose who got hammered off of fermented apples in Göteberg, Sweden on Tuesday. Per Johannson, the resident who discovered the drunken moose, and the police had to saw off the tree branches to extricate the moose, who promptly went off to hunker down in a neighbouring garden – presumably to stare glassy-eyed at some rhubarb and wonder about their connection to immortality. It’s apparently still sprawled there as of yesterday.

At times like these, don’t you just wish you can find out what is going through that moose’s mind during its state of inebriation? Maybe it’s just me. But if there is some way to communicate in moose speech and I were able to get an interview with that juiced-up moose, it may go something like this:

ME: “Uh…hi there, Moose! My name’s Winluck Wong and I’d like to have a chat with you because our readers would like to gain a better insight into your view of the world. Is this a good time?”

MOOSE: “Rhubarb…you’re – “

ME: “I’m sorry, what – “

MOOSE: “Rhu…I gotta see – “

ME: “What – oh, you want me to – “

MOOSE: “Yeah.”

ME: “You want me to – “

MOOSE: “Yeah.”

ME: “Um…okay, I’m sorry, do you mean you want me to leave so you can check your schedule or something first or…”

MOOSE: “Rhubarb.”

ME: “Pardon me?”

MOOSE: “You’re standin’ in…”

ME: “I’m standing in…oh, I see, you want me to move to the side because – “

MOOSE: “Yeah.”

ME: “Because I’m in the – “

MOOSE: “Yeah.”

ME: “Right, I’m just going to move. So…is this a good time?”

MOOSE: “Yep.”

ME: “Alright! Let’s get started then. Just so you know, I’m turning on this recorder right now for the interview so I can make sure I don’t miss anything later on.”

MOOSE: “‘Kay.”

ME: “Well, Moose, you discovered fermented apples. Would you describe what went through your mind when you ate the first one?”

MOOSE: “Wasn’t juicy like I usually like ‘em. Kinda soft and chewy. But it’s got this taste…um…I just – I just wanted more, man.”

ME: “How many do you think you ended up eating?”

MOOSE: “Oh…like 23, I think. No, no, it was – it was more like 22-and-a-half ’cause one of ‘em had this…um…gross-ass worm stickin’ out of it. It was nasty, man. Worms creep me out.”

ME: “Ugh, tell me about it. So what was the first thing you saw after eating the apples?”

MOOSE: “The moon, man, the moon. It’s so beautiful, but the clouds were just standin’ in front of it like they’re hot shit. I’m like, ‘What? Looks like these cloud-mofos need a good moose-whippin’.’ So I was gonna cut ‘em up with my antlers, but I think they were too far away or somethin’. Then I saw a squirrel and I flipped out – “

ME: “Wait, but what about the clouds?”

MOOSE: “Screw the clouds, man – I saw a goddamn squirrel!”

ME: “Okay, never mind. Go on.”

MOOSE: “So I saw this squirrel and I flipped out. Why the hell can they climb up any tree like they own it, huh? I mean, who do they think they are? My grandpa trampled one of them suckas once. True story, man. They should be watchin’ their backs when I’m in the woods. I got bad-ass killa in my blood.”

ME: “I see. And this squirrel just climbed up that tree willy-nilly?”

MOOSE: “Willy-nilly without a backward glance at me! I was pissed, let me tell ya. I’m like, “Hey man, don’t make me come after you.” You know what he did right after?”

ME: “No, I don’t.”

MOOSE: “You wanna know?”

ME: “I do, yes.”

MOOSE: “That bastard flipped his tail at me! That’s right, he did. Flipped his wild, unkempt tail straight at me.”

ME: “Ooh – that’s a bad thing, right?”

MOOSE: “Damn right it is!”

ME: “So was that when you decided to climb the tree?”

MOOSE: “Yeah, man – I’m not gonna let some punk-ass squirrel show me up. I just went for it.”

ME: “But how did you get up there though? Because as I understand it, moose weren’t designed to be tree-climbers.”

MOOSE: “Wasn’t too hard, actually. Hey, man, can you tilt that rhubarb leaf a little closer to me? I wanna lick the dew on it.”

ME: “Uh…alright, here you go. How’s that?”

MOOSE: “Perfect. Tastes good. You should try it.”

ME: “Great, maybe later. So how did you get up that tree?”

MOOSE: “Easy. I sorta leaned on the tree with my front hooves and then inched ‘em up to one of the sturdy lower limbs of the tree. Then I hopped on my hind legs until my front legs were hooked on the tree limb. When my hind legs got close enough, I kicked off at the tree trunk and kept at it until I could rest my belly up on the limb.”

ME: “Wow, that’s fascinating and, I must say, quite a remarkable feat.”

MOOSE: “Yeah, my grandpa trampled a squirrel once, you know. Our family can do anythin’.”

ME: “I’ll bet. What happened next? Did you catch the squirrel?”

MOOSE: “Rhubarb.”

ME: “What?”

MOOSE: “You’re standin’ in the – “

ME: “Oh right, sorry. I forgot to move after I got that dew for you.”

MOOSE: “It’s cool, man.”

ME: “So you got up on that tree. What then?”

MOOSE: “Squirrel ran away. Probably realized who he was really dealin’ with. Did I tell you I got bad-ass killa in my blood?”

ME: “Yes, I remember that. What happened next?”

MOOSE: “Well, that’s when I found out I got myself stuck good, wasn’t it?”

ME: “Oh. Right…um…and you couldn’t do what you did to get up there backwards then?”

MOOSE: “Hell no! You think I’m crazy, man?”

ME: “No, I just – never mind. What were your thoughts while you were waiting for rescue?”

MOOSE: “I don’t know…it was kinda surreal, man. The clouds finally booked it, by the way. I think it’s probably ’cause I was closer to ‘em at that point and they decided to smarten up. So I was just hangin’. Me and the beautiful moon. We talked.”

ME: “What about?”

MOOSE: “Lotsa stuff. We talked about why it’s so beautiful. We talked about my headache – ’cause a huge one started buildin’ up in my skull. We also talked about rhubarb. I love rhubarb and when she said she never had any before, I was like, ‘Oh, I’m so gonna get you some when I get down from here.’ Then I got rescued.”

ME: “And here you are in a rhubarb garden. But it’s been days now. Why are you still sitting here?”

MOOSE: “I still have this frickin’ headache, man. I keep losin’ my balance every time I stand up so I thought I’d better just lay low for a bit. Plus, the rhubarb’s not quite ready yet. Once me and the rhubarb are good to go, we’re outta here and headin’ for the moon.”

ME: “Alright. Well, Moose, it’s been a pleasure chatting with you.”

MOOSE: “No prob, man. Give my thanks to the rescuers for me. Peace.”

That, folks, was the world in the eyes of a drunken moose. So maybe it wasn’t as mellow as I thought it would be. It has some anger issues to work out, but really, who doesn’t?

I think moose are pretty cool and I hope you do as well after this.

Filed under: Humour, News, World Tagged: Humour, News, World

Forget This Shattered Heart

Winluck — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 07:06:54 +0000

By: Winluck Wong

She likes his dreamy eyes,
The way they electrify the prize
Of her inspired sighs.

Well, I bet his eyes never notice
That she subconsciously bites her lips
When she prepares for the punchline bliss
Or that she draws wavy figure-eights
With her finger as she concentrates
On an issue she cannot erase.

I notice, but my eyes are just brown,
Not enough for her passion’s renown.
Hey, forget this shattered heart of mine –
A lifetime later, I will be fine.

She is charmed by his speech
And the chic trinkets his riches reach
Right from his private beach.

Well, I can tell that he is a sleaze,
Who leers at every woman he sees
And probably carries some disease.
That bastard would not get her sharp spark
Igniting flares in each wry remark
Needed to hide her fear of the dark.

I can light up her entire soul,
But she cared not I can fill that role.
Hey, forget this shattered heart of mine –
A lifetime later, I will be fine.

Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Poetry

The Man Your Man Could Feel Like

Winluck — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 21:12:55 +0000

Well, this is all I got…

“Hello, ladies. Look at your man. Now back to me. Now back at your man. Now back to me. Fortunately, he isn’t me, but if he stopped looking after himself and switched to the old Superman attitude, he could feel like he’s me. Look down. Back up. Where are you? You’re in a clinic with the doctor your man could be visiting. What’s in your hand? Back at me – I have it. It’s a Kleenex with two prescriptions to that drugstore you love. Look again. The prescriptions are now pills. Anything is possible when your man has the old Superman attitude and does not look after himself. I’m in a bed.”

- Sick Guy (Winluck)

Back to my feverish dreams now.

Anything is possible when your man has the old Superman attitude

(Image courtesy of: TheButterCompartment.com)

Filed under: Humour, People Tagged: Humour, People