Mr. P: Or How I Learned To Let Go Of My Social Anxiety And Love A Good Story — PART II

by Al

In case you haven’t read it yet –  PART I.

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The light on his cigarette stick died. He flicked it and the butt landed near my feet.

It’s about time.

The bloody thing was so short I thought the only reason he kept smoking was because it was his last stick.

He reached into his pocket and took out a fresh pack.

Apparently, it wasn’t.

“Do you smoke?” he asked as he handed me a stick.

“No. But thank you”

“Good. This thing will kill you”, he said as he lighted it.

 

“Do you know Melaka Raya?”, he asked

I nodded.

“Well, a few years ago, I was there playing snooker when I met the two guys,” he started. “They were very well dressed. One of them had on a lot of gold jewelry”

“Like a rapper?” I asked.

“No, like a businessman”

I don’t know many businessmen who wear a lot of gold jewelry; But then again, I don’t know many businessmen. So I just kept quiet and listened to the man.

“They invited me back to their hotel room”

This doesn’t sound good.

“After a few drinks, they told me about this amazing thing they had that can make money”, he said.

“Make money?”

“Well, it doesn’t exactly make money. It replicates it”

“Like a xerox machine”

“No. This was a Chemical,” he said. “They collected fifty bucks from me and put it in a bucket with the chemical and then added in some plain white paper. After a while, they took out the paper and behold, it was another fifty bucks. They told me they could make me a hundred grand easy if I brought them ten thousand the next day”

Danger, Will Robinson. Danger!

“And you believed them?” I asked.

“I wanted a hundred grand”

Fair enough.

“So what happened?”

“The next day, I gathered the money,” he said. “The thing was, I didn’t even have that kind of money. I had to borrow from family and friends. My wife thought I had gone mad”

At least she had some sense.

“Thirteen thousand, I gave to them”

“I thought they asked for ten.” I said.

“If ten is good, thirteen must be better, right?”, he smiled. “At least that’s what I thought.”

“And then?”

I already knew how the story would end.

“They doubled it,” he said.

Wait what??!

“What?”

Apparently, I didn’t.

“They gave me a briefcase full of money. And an Adidas jacket,” he said. “But when I got back home, the entire briefcase was just paper. Full of it”, he looked slightly down and shook his head “Not even the kind that’s nice and white. Recycled”

I fucking knew it!

“I ran back to the hotel immediately. But of course, they had already checked out”

“Wow. Did you report to the police?” I asked.

“No. I was too embarrassed”

Poor bastard.

“Didn’t you check the money before you left the hotel?” I asked.

“Of course I did”

“And you’re sure there was money in the briefcase?”

“Yes I’m sure”

No you’re not.

“Then how the hell did a hundred thousand ringgits turn into recycled paper?”

“I’ll tell you how,” he said “Black magic”

Wow. Fucking unbelievable.

“So what did you do?”

“I burnt it. I burnt it all. Even the jacket,” he said “My wife was really mad”

I bet she was.

“But she forgave me,”

“Wow. She must have a really big heart”

“Yea, she’s pretty amazing,” he said. “You want to see her picture?”

“Sure why not?”

He took out his wallet from his back pocket and a few passport-size photographs fell on his lap. One found its way to the ground.

I bent down and picked it up for him.

 

“This,” he said, referring to the picture I’d just given him “is my father. He came to Malaysia from Singapore sometime before independence…”

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