Of Magic & Beings from the Third World
I must apologize for posting so many entries at one go. There have just been some hiccups with the connection so there you go… my third entry in a row. 
Last night I had the chance of being entertained along with my dear friends with a magic show right at our table at this place called the Magic Theathre in Sunway Pyramid. Good stuff I swear. I should get paid for writing a sparkling review on them here! Teehee. So there we were, sipping good expensive white wine and having a really lively chatter when this rather cute young magician guy popped by our table and showed us some really cool magic tricks. (I’m a magic dummy – the kind who would applaud to any tricks so…)
I tell you, my eyebrows lifted a foot high watching the illusions. Suffice to say, my jaws dropped the equal distance. Most were the usual now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t tricks, like making a lighter or a coin disappear and reappear before the information synapses effectively from the nerve of the eye to the brain and back. But heck, there was this one trick that baffled the life out of all of us. We could never figure out what exactly happened and probably I shall die trying.
So it went like this. The cute magician guy asked for a cigarette from a girl friend. He had nimble fingers that one, fingers that moved faster than our normal reaction time. Then, much to our surprise (and my horror of horrors), he stuffed the whole cigarette through his right nostril to have it reappear again between his lips. Like yuk. But ok, to be fair that warranted a slight applause.
Still, nothing could beat what he did after that. Finally, he had the cigarette lighted. (A minus point was that he did not know that the way to light a cigarette is to inhale! Boohoo.) One of the three dear guys at our table was rendered the lucky volunteer for the trick. The magician twisted a part of his shirt into a small ‘O’ shape and told us to look and not blink, or we’d miss it. Tipsy from too much wine sipping, and feeling unbelievably high, we held on to our seats and forced ourselves not to blink – not once. Our friend joked that he wished the trick would fail and the cigarette would burn a hole in his shirt so that he could claim a new one, but alas! That was not to be. Mr Magician stuffed the lit cigarette through the ‘O’ and it disappeared into thin air! Right in front of our very eyes! Without a single ash mark on the shirt, too! So nobody got any new shirts in the end, but we left with a boggled mind because none of us could figure out where the cigarette went! It never did reappear again although we asked Mr Magician to make it. Dinner to whoever who can explain to me how the cigarette went Poof! Quick! Quick! Quick! Mysteries are insufferable, no less.
Then, there was this stage show, at which we were posed the question: Do you believe in Ghosts? Do I? Heck, if I weren’t such a ninny or the type who would piss in her pants if I so much as hear the wail of a
Pontianak (or some neighborhood cat), I’d say I don’t believe in ghosts. Don’t anybody try to put that theory to test!!! Unfortunately, I belong to the Kiasi group of people who chant prayers and hang on to the cross on my neck until my fingers are bloodless every time a cold waft of air blows past or the hair behind my neck stands unwarranted.
Food for thought. Ghosts and beings of the third world. Do they exist? My long lost cousin brother explained that ghosts only exist within the space of our minds. And that the unexplained ghostly sounds that we sometimes hear are actually the work of our minds, repeating past voices that echoed in the head due to sensory overload…? Hmmh, I don’t know about that. Though do you ever wonder why ghosts go WOoooooHooooooo or cackle and nothing else?
What I do know is that, bless my soul, I’d never want to confront a ghost again. Nor come close to it. Or to be associated with it in any way. Touch wood. Touch anything that is within reach.
Recently, there was a calling to all writers to submit a manuscript for some Get Spooked series. I answered that calling with much aplomb, literary juices overflowing. I requested eagerly for the guidelines and gave my contact number for future correspondence. The kind lady in charge of the program responded immediately. I was set to go with a bang, bang, bang!
For three hours. And then, like a pup with the tail between my legs, I retreated silently into the night, never to be heard of again. Yes, so sue me, I’m the coward of all times. After doing some research on the paranormal on the internet, reading on how Pontianaks have their innards flying outside their bodies and that Toyols originate from young babies who did not make it and whose souls were stolen by evil sorceresses for their own deeds, I was ready to run hysterical if there was so much as a glimpse of shadow that might be my own.
So as far as beings of the third world are concerned, exist by all means, but let’s draw a line right here. A freaking distinct, unmistakable line. Eunice’s personal space and Yours. I rest my case.
Random Thought of the Day
Have you ever sent anything to any particular person but to the wrong address? Goodness, this is new to me. Hahaha. Now let me sit back and appreciate the echo of my laughter. I sure hope that said somebody who sent flowers to the wrong address last night was not too upset because there was no reply from the receiver. The roses really never came. At least not before I left home. Anyway, thanks, it was thoughtful of you.
And friends…if you by any chance want to send me flowers or fruits or cash or gold ingots, my address is …… just kidding. ;p
