I have regressed to being the village madman.
There was a woman in my village years ago who would write letters to Dr M. She would start using normal ABCs and then switch to jawi and then back to rumi.
She would then send it to my father, the headman, so that he would send it to Dr M. I remember laughing till my sides split while reading her letters.
They were the funniest things I ever read in my life. The contents never made any sense and was all the product of a sick mind. She would write stuff about ASB, Vision 2020, CHOGM, Commonwealth Games, ASEAN and whatever words she can find in the newspaper. She even had bush-jacket and whatever else thrown in.
But I never could remember exactly what she wrote, just that she was expecting Dr M to send her money so she can buy more tobacco.
One day, she died. For a lifetime, I forgot about her.
Today, during lunchtime, I felt an urge, a compulsion, to write to the good doctor. I just couldn't take it anymore. I don't care what people say about me. Hell, it could be karma. I mean, I did laugh at the madwoman.
So I wrote to him, during lunchtime, and sent it to one of his aides. Now, I am no longer responsible for the destruction of the world. The ball is in his court.
