Hail, Corporation!

“Gah! Gah!” I shouted, “I do not want to work on weekend!”. Furious and frustrated with what i had become, i kicked the laptop and set big flames and nearly burnt the whole world.

As i hopped happily the to the magic door, — to exit life, end all misery and quite possibly to become a bowl of carrot soup (that is my ambition!) — it became clear to me that i had forgotten to brush my sparkling white superlimercy teeth. But i didn’t care, not that much that weekend.

“Whooooooooooooooo are you. What is the meaning of superlimercy?”

A mysterious voice trembled the burning house. I was scared, a little frightened, but what Papa told me about the circumcision he had when he was my age, and nearly turned him a lunatic, I toughened up.

“Hello there. My name is Firdy. I like happy girls in short skirts and.. i’m not so sure if i should tell you this, but..” i whispered, softer than breathing in thin air, “i think, i don’t like Anwar Ibrahim.”

“Who is she?” asked the mysterious voice.

“I have no idea. Anyway, who are you? Why can i hear your voice but not see you?”

“Come to the door and open it with your childish curiosity.”

I opened the magic door and there he was, a big monster, with teeth less superlimercious than mine. He wasn’t a friendly monster like how Marxist, my monstrous pet was, but he did advise me that i should be working hard, even during the weekends.

His name was Corporation Farizo.