Silent Night

Once upon a time in a castle far away in the northern kingdom, after several years of happy anticipation, a little baby girl was born to the reigning Princess Panacea. Though possessed of her father's less than spectacular looks, the little girl fortunately developed some little charm of her own, bolstered by her mother's frequent makeovers and soon became the delight of her doting parents.

Though perhaps they had doted a little too much on their Petulant Pill. 

Barely did the Princess Panacea wander a foot away from the child, there would be whines, whimpers and wails enough to shake the castle to the rafters. Soon Panacea could scarcely move an inch away without the resounding keening lamentation that came to be known as the Pillsong. Though the apple of her parents' eyes, the screeching little girl soon became the dreaded gorgon that reigned in the castle nursery much to the unending horror of the nurse, the nursemaids and the servants. Each night as the Pill finally cried herself to sleep, the rest of the castle lit a candle hoping for a white knight to come rescue them. 

Away from the Petulant Pill. 

Prince : Perhaps the magical unicorns would still her cries.
Panacea : Yeah that's gonna happen. 

Sounds less like a sweet fairytale and more like a recurring nightmare actually. Though some parts have been wildly exaggerated, for the most part the sad story above is firmly rooted in reality. So much so that Pretty Panacea finds it hard to even leave her house, which is how it took more than a year before she managed to return for a visit with the baby. Ever the protective first time parent, Panacea finds herself loath to leave the child by her wee lonesome - not even under the care of her own elderly parents.

Something I realized when the Pill seemed abnormally attached to her everywhere she went.

Paul : You didn't leave the Pill with your parents? 
Panacea : No. Never. 
Paul : You haven't gone out without the Pill? 
Panacea : No. Never!
Paul : Why? Your parents are living next door? So are your husband's parents? Isn't that why you chose to live so close by? 
Panacea : But the Pill can't be left alone with them. She would cry!
Paul : Uh. So?
Panacea : She would cry!
Paul : Trust me on this but no baby ever died from crying. 

Come on, seriously did anyone ever die from crying?

Till I pointed it out plainly, she didn't even realize that her baby hadn't been left in the care of anyone else in the family for even a measly ten minutes. Apparently the ensuing raucous wails would be heard from several blocks away. Like any other over-enthusiastic first-time helicopter parents, Panacea then handed me the lame excuse of her own parents not knowing what to do with a newborn. As I've heard that very same irrational reason several dozen times before, I knew exactly what to say.

Paul : Excuse you. Your parents managed to keep you alive and well till you're grown enough to have a child of your own. You haven't. 

Perhaps I would have been a little more understanding if she were handing her child to an unfamiliar caretaker but really, her own parents. Really. Are you seriously trying to challenge your own parents when it comes to parenting? Like come on.

Let your parents be grandparents, and perhaps then there might actually be a Silent Night.

Straw to Gold

Ensconced in her domestic bliss up north, it's rare indeed to hear from Pretty Panacea other than the occasional housekeeping gripes when her singing birds and butterflies go on strike. Turns out life isn't all that rosy in the fairytale kingdom even after that perfect happy-ever-after since even princesses have to contend with the monstrous in-laws. Though this time it's not a serpent-haired gorgon-in-law that's the problem but a fellow new bride like her.

Panacea : I have a problem. 

Paul : Told you. Feed the birds more if you want them to hang your laundry! 

Panacea : It's not a housekeeping problem. It's my princess-in-law. 

Paul : How is she a problem? 

Panacea : She's imitating the way I dress! Wears the same clothes! Carries the same handbags!

Paul : So? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. 

Panacea :  I swear she has the same glass slippers that I got!

Paul : I've seen her. 

Panacea : You have? 

Paul : I have a magic mirror. Really, you have nothing to worry about. You're comparing straw to gold. 

Panacea : B-but what do I say when I see her in the same gown!

Paul : Compliment her on her fine taste. 

Perhaps it's a problem only a real princess could comprehend since try as I might, I really couldn't empathize with her. Even freshly woken up from her bedchamber with hardly a brush to her lovely locks and nary a gloss to her luscious lips, Pretty Panacea is undoubtedly the fairest in the land and few princesses, and even fewer peasant girls, could hold a candle to her. 

Even more so the lamentable princess-in-law who's... homely at best. 

Hmm. That's the hapless wench who's earned the ire of Panacea? Of what looks does she speak of? 

Imagine spending half a day being sorely mistreated at the aesthetics salon just to come up short against Panacea rushing in for supper with a hasty swipe of a lipstick? No doubt if I were in her princess-in-law's glass slippers, I would heartily dislike Panacea as well. Probably start making deliciously devious deals with the devil to concoct poisonous apples and such. 

Rather than just innocently steal her look. 

The princess-in-law tries. Unfortunately, even lavishly overpriced Birkins dangling from her spindly arm can't compensate for the sad lack of panache to carry it off. Every fairy godfather could easily tell her the ancient adage - You can buy fashion but you can't buy style - but apparently fairy godfathers are in short supply these days. 

So I told Panacea to accept the battle's already long won, not that the final outcome was ever in doubt. Be gracious to the loser at least. That said however, I would still break her glass slippers since there can't be two pairs around!

Nirvana in Fire

As little children reading fairy tales with their all-too-predictable happy endings, we are brought up to expect our kings and queens to be kind, gentle and righteous paragons. Anyone else behaving otherwise would have no choice but to be tragically typecast as the opprobrious villain.

Clearly demarcated pieces of black and white with very few anti heroes in shades of gray. For those keenly following stereotypical Chinese serial dramas, they would find little to complain about since the heroes and villains are clearly marked right from the beginning. Simple enough to pick out the dastardly libertines in a Chinese wuxia since there's a certain pronounced look and behaviour easily discernable to regular viewers from the ever-present devilish sneer to the sharp, dramatically arched eyebrows.

And their heroes are always ever-so-righteous.

Perhaps wonderful on the written text but in real life, most of us would find these exemplary protagonists utterly unbearable. Even more so if these paragons manage to somehow stumble their way to the throne. And I do mean stumble since otherwise it would be quite impossible to achieve that ultimate goal without guile or gumption.

Which is just about the premise for the latest Chinese historical drama Nirvana in Fire 琅琊榜. Something I've been wildly addicted to lately.

Based on the novel with the same name, it tells the story of the terrifyingly brilliant Lin Shu, who under the alias of political strategist Mei Changsu, has come to seek justice for his family after having been treacherously branded as traitors more than a decade ago. To achieve his apparently nefarious goals, he secretly enlists the help of his old allies to revitalize the imperial ambitions of a long neglected prince.

And undeniably crush the sorry pretensions of all other potential adversaries - that coincidentally includes most of the villains involved in the insidious conspiracy years ago. Think of it as another take on the Count of Monte Cristo though like any intricate Chinese puzzlebox, it's far more complex than it first seems.

Rather than focus solely on the unprincipled political maneuverings, the series deals more with the sincere friendship and brotherhood amongst the main protagonists. In fact the near negligible heterosexual romance is almost eclipsed by the sheer number of bromances evidently shown; most importantly the preeminent bond between Mei Changsu and the cherished object of his Machiavellian machinations, Prince Jing.

Despite being seemingly disgusted by the schemes and stratagems of Mei Changsu, the overly principled, self-righteous prince can't help but be intrigued by him - and the rare telling quirks he mysteriously shares with his late best friend, Lin Shu.

Is this the end of a bad bromance?

However like every other Chinese novel or drama series, the morally upright characters all seem hellbent on denigrating the artful schemers - not immediately realizing that without their help, the holier-than-thou do-gooders probably wouldn't be able to achieve their noble aspirations. Fueled mainly by a false sense of honour and loads of senseless impulse, half of them would have witlessly marched to the executioner's axe if not for the timely advice of master strategist Mei Changsu.

And let's be honest, a virtuous, honourable king with little guile or wile likely wouldn't last too long with all the wicked court intrigues. That only happens in fairy tales.

The Pimple and the Preposterous

Remember that familiar gay fairy tale featuring our ever-anxious Cinderfella? The hapless apothecary's assistant who spends his time utterly preoccupied with conjuring every possible obstacle to a relationship; therefore inadvertently dooming it before anything begins? As it turns out, even his fairy godfathers are throwing up their manicured hands in despair!

Hard to blame them when such self-inflicted misfortunes emerge right after saying once upon a time! Dozens of eligible paragons have ridden by his lil shop; but while he shamelessly drools over their virile masculine beauty, he also desperately searches for inexplicably ludicrous reasons not to start the expected chase.

Godfather : Now there's a handsome prince sitting by the fountain just waiting for someone to come along. Well mannered, highly intelligent, generous to a fault etc. etc. etc.
Cinderfella : Oh he is terribly handsome for sure. But-
Godfather : But what? Surely there's nothing to lament over his exceptional looks! You could bounce a quarter off that tight ass!
Cinderfella : He has a pimple.
Godfather : What?
Cinderfella : Just behind his right ear. 
Godfather : You'd refuse a fellow because of a minuscule - most probably temporary - pimple behind his right ear. 
Cinderfella : Maybe?

And if it's not something negligible like acne vulgaris, it's something similarly inconsequential. The way he blinks, the way he sits, the way he laughs etc.  If there's even the tiniest bit of imperfection in a seemingly perfect prince, our overly critical Cinderfella would be sure to find it.

Even one upstanding prince charming Cinderfella stubbornly repudiated for having too many friends.

Prince : That wasn't a pimple dammit! It was the angle of the light!

Surely enough to drive any enterprising fairy godfather into furiously snapping his magic wand.

No doubt these trivial rejections on his part stem from a tragically evident fear of failure but knowing the reason doesn't make it any less maddening. Talk about obsessive nitpicking!Has he never heard the wise words of Sam Keen?

'We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.'

The Secret of the Borgias

Family. Honour. Tradition.

Those were the words he lived for. His father had done the same; and so had his father before him. Ever since his ancient forebears had first set foot on the fortgotten island and offered to shoulder the heavy burden, that sacred duty had bound the Borgia family to their demesne lands. As a reminder to all who might shirk their responsibilities, the family crest imprinted above the fireplace even had the motto 'Leave Not The House Unguarded' emblazoned as a faint warning across the familiar shield and pitchfork. 

Advice he had repeatedly recounted to his children as the patriarch of the Borgias, though he feared their dedication to the noble cause was not as steady and unfaltering as his own. Did they even know what lay beneath the lust fertile beauty of their farmlands? Did they even understand the importance of remaining always at home as the eternal guardians? Though he had hinted more than once on what might happen if they left, his children still didn't understand fully. 

What lay beneath...

Even the chilling rumination had him shuddering though he had been sure to have the metal gates securely locked tight and double checked - as he had done every night for the past few decades after he had taken on the role of guardian. 

A job that seemed to get more difficult every year. Even now he occasionally felt the ominous rumble when the monstrous evils below made another hopefully futile attempt to break out into this world. 

But the hellish creatures were getting ever more inventive each year; finding the little nooks and crannies in between the worlds that would be just enough for them to slip through unbidden. Fearing the same, his wife had boarded up all their mirrors at his behest. After the last appalling incident, they certainly couldn't risk another demonic outbreak.


At least this is what I assume is happening over at the Borgias.

For a very long time, the reluctance of his family members to leave their land even for the briefest of moments has puzzled me endlessly. Surely there's nothing all that precious in the impregnable Forteresse de Borgia?

Till the other day when it dawned on me suddenly that they must have been guarding something. Since boundless treasures of gold, gems and gee gaws didn't seem to be all that probable, the only other reason should be something far more sinister.

Calvin : You sure those doors will hold them, papa?
Father : It must, my child. For all our sakes, it must.

Like the portal to another hellish dimension. Perhaps their family home was built on the nexus of magical ley lines of which they are the eternal guardians.

Paul : So is it true?
Calvin : No. 
Paul : Well I expected you to deny it vehemently of course. 
Calvin : No!
Paul : That's what the true guardians are supposed to say! 
Calvin : No!
Paul : You can tell me! I can keep a secret. 
Calvin : There's nothing to tell. 
Paul : It explains the mirrors!

Date Shame

There is a distinct magical possibility concealed in every sparkling new date; always the tiniest glimmer of hope that this could be something special and yes, he could be the one.

At least that was how it went for romantic little me. So when I was desperately single, I shamelessly said yes to every possible blind date ever with very little discrimination! All gay bachelors, from seemingly unattainable princes to even the most remotely eligible paupers could fit into my admittedly low criteria. Even treacherous bridge trolls were welcome to apply so long as they bought me some dinner.

After all you just never know which slippery, slimy frog could turn into a handsome prince!

These days however the princesses I know are infinitely more fastidious, hell even the paupers are cautious. So fearful of the dating experience that they keep coming up with supremely lame excuses not to.

Rapunzel : No, no I am not looking for anything at the moment.

Really? Why not? Perhaps there is a hidden tower you need to clean out? Surely heading out on a romantic escapade with a sexy stranger would be far more interesting than staring out the tower windows.

Mulan : I don't need a man. I'm independent.

Really? Being all Miss Independent doesn't preclude wanting a man - or even a woman - by your side. Trust the itinerant matchmaker, there's some comfort in knowing there's someone patiently waiting by the hearth while you're out conquering the barbaric Huns. A man worth fighting for, perhaps?

Beauty : You want me to download Tindr? Oh no, there's no need. Someone will find me. 

Really? Not that many princes seeking brides in magical forests these days, honey. While you're fraternizing with forest animals in some faraway cottage surrounded by forbidden forests, how would you ever expect to find a human date? Short of having the fairy godfather knock the handsome hunk over the head unconscious and drag him back, you'll have to rely on other less aggressive devices. Sure, social apps like Tindr come with dozens of dastardly sexually rapacious wolves in tow but there's bound to be one or two semi-decent woodcutters, no?

Wait, did you swipe left or right for me? 

Take a cue from intrepid girls like Ariel who risked getting out of the familiar waters to find her man! Dating is just a simple part of the human experience so there's no shame in wanting to be a part of it. Creeps, cretins and cads aplenty out in the dating world but there'll be a learning process after all which would help in discerning the real prince amongst the wolves.

And come on, it's just a date!

Cinderfella

Once upon a time in a small village not so very far away there was an apothecary's apprentice named Cinderfella.

Allegedly mistreated, mishandled and misunderstood by all who knew him - the atrocious chief apothecary especially, the poor boy found but little solace from everything around him - till one fine morning when he was delivering a medicinal poultice to a sick villager, Cinderfella saw a notice being put up in the village square announcing a royal ball for the prince's birthday.

Might I say his heart skip a beat?

Oh my is that my Prince Charming? Is he going to rescue me from my life of misery? 

It didn't take the apothecary's apprentice very long to start wishin', prayin' and hopin'. Yes, you see the apprentice had seen the burly young prince once from afar. Oh, so fine and noble the prince was riding his brilliant red carriage to the castle, and so very far from his own lowly miserable station.

Cinderfella : Oh he could never love me. Such a terrible creature like me. 
Godfather : But why would you say that?
Cinderfella : Why fairy godfather!
Godfather : Yes, you shall go to the ball! And find your prince. 
Cinderfella : But I can't!
Godfather : Why not? 
Cinderfella : He's so much better than me! He's a prince. He speaks well. He sings. He enjoys good food. 
Godfather : He still puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else. 
Cinderfella : I have nothing to wear!
Godfather : Well I shall make an enchanting bespoke suit from silky gossamer threads spun by ink-black spiders in the light of a full moon. 
Cinderfella : But will that make him notice me? What if he doesn't? What if he does? What if the suit is too bright? What if the pants are too tight? What if I break the shoes?
Godfather : And how would that be a problem? 
Cinderfella : What if he doesn't love me? What if I'm not his type? What if he only likes burly bears like himself? What if he leaves me with my heart broken? 
Godfather : What ifs! Pish posh, my dear. Now do you perhaps have a coconut to turn into a carriage?
Cinderfella : What if the coconut breaks down? What if his friends hate me? 
Godfather : Hmm. 
Cinderfella :  What if he - wait, fairy godfather where are you going?
Godfather : You're too much for a first assignment, I'm heading next door to find an easier target for the makeover. Perhaps you have a wicked stepbrother around? 

Almost impossible to find a happily-ever-after in this real life scenario.

Poor Cinderfella and his self-defeating what ifs. So preoccupied with how exceptionally perfect the prince is to try. So busy obsessing over everything that could possibly go wrong that he daren't make any moves. Seriously boys, faint heart never won fair laddie - so you don't get to walk off into the sunset with the prince if you keep finding ways not to.

Really, what if a flying meteor falls to the earth right on the prince?

No doubt if his childfood friend Cinderella had done the same moping over her similarly miserable fate rather than step into that enchanted glass slipper, she would still be communing with her mousy companions in the back kitchen. Instead she grabbed those damned shoes, ran as fast as those crystal heels could take her and made sure she dazzled during her grand entrance at the ball.

Something said prince won't forget anytime soon!

Grizzlylocks and the Three Bears

Clearly written for much simpler times, fairy tales that we loved as kids tend to have astonishingly implausible plotlines that we would find wholly unthinkable in our real life from intrepid virgins who would heedlessly brave a stranger's hovel ( obviously no fear of stranger danger ) to wandering princes who seemingly plant their lips on random corpses ( unsanitary much ).

But we forgive them one and all, because few would have genuinely existed in reality - and those that did have been embellished so wildly through the ages that no doubt very little remains of the true story. Even little girls with blond curls happily traipsing through unfamiliar, seemingly deserted bear caves while wining and dining on her own doesn't seem at all unusual to us. It's an imaginary fairytale after all.

So how does it happen in real life that a boy actually finds three bears in one place?

Let me elaborate. Once upon a time there was a boy named Grizzlylocks who was apparently hopelessly heterosexual in nature - or at least that's what he claimed to everyone else in the little town, the quiet village and neighbouring forest. And yet when no one was watching he occasionally slipped Freudian-like for a moment.

Paul : Did Grizz just say he has a partner? 
Madison : Yes, he did. 
Paul : He's not a lawyer. 
Madison : No, he isn't. 
Paul : He doesn't have some company. 
Madison : No, he doesn't.
Paul : Very few straight guys say partner. Why would they when they have a plethora of sexy synonyms to play with? 
Madison : Now you've made me suspicious. 

So which way does he lean? Perhaps in the olden days, we would have depended on the local village witch with her scrying spells, hapless chicken and crystal ball to garner pertinent information on him but these days, we can just click on ye trusty olde Facebook. Basically in the tight little gay world, there's very little place to run and hide even in that darkest of closets. Let's just say your choice of friends can be extremely telling, even more so than a bloody trail of chicken guts on the ground.

Not only did we find three bears who recently offered the affable hand of camaraderie, Grizz already came with an entire pack of bears of his own. And I don't mean the savage beasts who rightfully chased Goldilocks out for intentional home invasion. Though some of these gay boys do have the same amount of bodily hair.

You mean these kinda bears? 

Seriously where did he find them? Clumsy Goldilocks might have accidentally stumbled into a den of bears but where did Grizz, an apparently straight fellow, find an entire Beartown to befriend? Curious!

Deck the Belles

Yes, I tend to be more dressy than usual. Chances are very few have actually seen me out and about in something more casual than a shirt and slacks. More often than not, there's usually a tie or even a vest included in the ensemble. Blame it on my upbringing - my strict mother never ever let us leave the house unless we're perfectly presentable - and also perhaps my formal workwear where Casual Fridays are practically unheard of.

Perhaps it's my advanced age speaking but it always puzzles me to see youthful teens gallivanting abroad in their Wednesday Worst. What happened to dressing up tastefully for a night out on the town? With industrialization and mass marketing making readymade clothes easily available to all, what cheap excuse is there to be bundled up in a raggedy tee-shirt and rattier shorts out in public?

And flip flops - which I swear can only be appropriate for the beach or a pasar malam.

Paul : What is she wearing?
Kat : I know!
Paul : Is it laundry day and she doesn't have anything left to wear? 
Kat : Really hope that's the reason.
Paul : I wouldn't even use that tired tee to scrub the floors. 
Kat : So strict haha!
Paul : If that were my child, I would immediately drag her home to change. Or perhaps to a store for a new dress. What she's wearing now I would immediately consign to the flames. 

Yes, mean girls do judge.

Come on, there is dressing appropriately for the occasion - and there's just tearing out whatever crushed leftovers you can discover in the laundry basket. Just because everyone's dressing way, way down doesn't mean you have to join that motley crew. Seriously, almost everyone looks good when they put in some minimal effort to dress up but only a lucky handful look great in just a plain tee and shorts.

Not unless you're super fit and handsome like the fortunate fellow below. Disregard whatever fulsome praise the doting aunts showered on you - chances are you're never quite as pretty as they said you were.

Unless you're this guy. I assume Alex looks great in almost anything. And better in nothing. 

So short of being genetically blessed with good looks, don't even think about stepping out in anything but your best. Unforgivably elitist perhaps but even Cinderella knew the worth of dressing in her glamorous finest. Never even occurred to her to arrive at the ball clad only in her grimy kitchen rags. Hell, even the fashion-forward rats in her kitchen instinctively knew she would need a decent ballgown for her swanky soiree.

Imagine if she hadn't gotten her fairy godmother to offer some sartorial magic!

Cinderella : Oh hello!
Prince : Umm wait, isn't the help supposed to be downstairs? 
Cinderella : Oh no, I'm a guest! Really. I mean I had no time to dress so I just came in whatever I had on. 
Prince : Oh really? 
Cinderella : The card mentioned formal wear but I am going for comfort today.
Prince : I think there's a gravy stain on your tee shirt. 
Cinderella : Oh maybe. 
Prince : I think I see someone else I need to talk to. 
Cinderella : Wait, you haven't seen my flip flops!

Yeah, she might not have gotten her happily-ever-after if she'd come in her Wednesday Worst. 

Another Suitcase in Another Hall

At that very moment, betrayal was all she could think about. Staying out till past midnight with that other.... though she shouldn't have thought in such degrading terms about someone of her own gender, damned cheap floozy was all she could say!

What could he have been thinking? Not her that was for sure; otherwise he wouldn't have spent the entire night talking only to that girl while spinning pitiful lies about a tedious work dinner that dragged on just a little too late.

Which was why she had her suitcase out in the hallway all packed at 2 in the morning despite his persistent pleas to stay.

Quick substitute of the gender and it could have been miserable old me more than a decade ago. Deny it all you may but seriously, time really does heal all wounds - since now I can actually look back and have a chagrined laugh over it. Has it really been that long? Was I ever that brash?

And how the hell did I successfully stuff all my rubbish bric-a-bracs into one tiny suitcase in less than ten minutes! What a magnificent feat! It's a wonder my ISO didn't reward me with a standing ovation - but I guess with my hair practically aflame with fury, he probably daren't come any closer.

Of course it doesn't seem like a laughing matter to my new friend - the much younger Cotton Candy - as she commiserated with us over the cellphone, while undoubtedly sitting cross-legged on top of her packed suitcase with plane tickets ready to flee in her pocket. Disconnected from the rest of her friends and family across the Big Puddle, I could only imagine how vulnerable and alone Candy must have felt. Finding herself left alone in the tower while her supposed Prince traipses off for a midnight outing wasn't the happy ending she'd imagined.

Can we talk? 

Thanks to the benefit of hindsight - and of course my ISO, I knew exactly what to say to calm her down. These days, the Disney magic of mass media advertising would have you imagine that relationships are born of syrupy ballads, blazing fireworks and sparkling champagne which, though wonderful to think of, is generally patently untrue.

What makes a relationship last is plain hard work. And lots, and lots of compromise.

It's of Prince Florian finally coming to terms with the curious fact that Snow White comes with seven grumpy dwarves that he can never get rid of. It's Belle finally realizing that there are days when even her usually docile husband falls into beastly PMS rages - she probably hides in the great library. It's the Prince knowing that his palace maids would have to deal with an infestation of plague-bearing rodents - especially with his wife Cinderella communing with them daily. It's our valiant Prince Eric who comes to realize that even the hundreds of rooms in the castle might not be enough for his hoarder wife Ariel who seems to be picking up nonsensical thingamajigs all over the place - maybe just toss them back into the sea when she's not looking?

If they all took off the minute things got bad, there wouldn't be much of a happy ending for these fairy tales.

And they certainly would never make any good decisions at 2 in the morning.  

Once Upon a Ramen

Once upon a time, there lived a little prince in a secluded castle far, far away. With him were his parents, both ardent lovers of all things horticulture and bucolic which was why they brought their little son with them to live miles away from life in the bustling capital. In that wooded castle built on miles of rolling hills, sheltered from the rigors of city life, our prince grew up tutored in all the arts of music, math and principles. 

Peculiar principles which were taught to him almost on a daily basis - one of which included the abject warning from his loving but stern parents NOT to play with his food. In fact above the family altar there was a golden spoon with that particular motto emblazoned on the handle. 'Play Not With Thou Food.'

Calvin : Oh that's a vegetable. They don't really talk much. Definitely can't dance.
Friend : Hmm. 
Calvin : My parents usually grind and crush them so they can't possibly rebel. 

For whatever reason the little prince never knew for he was a quiet, obedient child who never saw fit to question his occasionally authoritative parents. And after all, there was little he could do to even talk to the food placed in front of him - nutritious, vegetable-laden meals who didn't seem to have much to tell him. Surely he would never have a chance to even play with the food. 

But one day when his parents were away to do whatever royal parents were wont to do, the little prince was left very much to his own devices. Eschewing the prepared meal left behind by his mother - a grainy, mealy green gunk supposedly full of fibre and vitamins, our prince decided to step outside for a look to see what there was to enjoy. 

And lo and behold, there was a bowl of noodles right at his doorstep. A bowl of spicy, scrumptious ramen to be exact, adorned with layers of heavenly pork. No one knew exactly how long it had been there, or who exactly had delivered it but the scent of the spices seemed to draw the little prince in. 

Rather than just sit still in the bowl as the nutritious meals were wont to do, the noodles crept out of the bowl and decided to dance a waltz. Curiously enough! Never had the prince seen such a shocking sight for who could ever have known that there would be a Waltzing Ramen Monster. Was that what his parents had been talking about? 

Taken aback, he rushed back into the castle searching for a weapon but found only the golden spoon. As the noodles reached to draw him into the dance, he smacked it with the spoon which caused it to fall to the ground lifeless. Little did he know that the golden spoon had been used by his ancestors to clear the forests of rampant noodle creatures centuries before. 

Seeing his returning parents about to come over the rise, he packed the noodles back into the bowl and hurriedly buried it. At least now he knew why his parents had always told him not to play with the food. Obviously they liked to dance, something his parents expressly forbade in the castle. 

So from that day forward, the little prince decided to stay away from ramen. 

And definitely never to dance. 



At least that's what I think must have happened to Charming Calvin in his youth. No doubt the Waltzing Ramen Monster must have haunted his dreams ever since. Otherwise how to explain his peculiar aversion to ramen?

Whirlwind Romance

Frequently I hear married people moan about not knowing their much maligned spouses well enough. Happily-ever-afters don't come that easily after the wedding. Obviously they didn't have the age-old adage of 'Marry in haste, Repent at leisure' hammered into them repeatedly.

Perhaps they were brought up on a steady diet of classic Disney fairytales which would explain the irrational urge to irrevocably commit to a total stranger - no matter how uncommonly handsome! - the moment he claims an introductory kiss. And yes, I'm looking at both of you shockingly impulsive gals, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White.

Even the Little Mermaid.

Aurora : But he's my true love!
Paul : Seriously. You knew all that after a song and dance in the forest? 
Aurora : But we had lots of chemistry!
Paul : That's lust, honey. You don't build a marriage only on that.
Aurora : You don't?
Paul : Not really. 
Aurora : Umm.
Snow : But my prince saved me with true love's kiss. 
Paul : One Heimlich kiss doesn't make him any less of a stranger. Do you even know his name?
Snow : Umm.
Ariel : Hey, don't pick on them!
Paul : You sacrificed everything you had for a hunk you saw lying unconscious on a beach. 
Ariel : Umm.

Not that I wouldn't have done the same. I mean, Prince Phillip from Sleeping Beauty? Hubba hubba oh come to me, you sexy man. Certainly would have slayed a dragon for him. Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid? Yeah I would have left the sea for him but I would probably have kissed him the moment I landed on shore.

But those are Disney cartoons. In real life? I think I would be a little more cautious about leaping into such monumental life decisions based solely on a pretty face, a great physique and some raging pheromones.

Panacea : I'm getting married.
Paul : You've only known him for three weeks in total.
Panacea : But it's true love! When we're together, it feels like...
Paul : Are you gonna break into song like a Disney princess? 

Although throwing caution to the wind seems to be the motto for my friends. As it turns out, Pretty Panacea - our very own Snow White actually does behave as if she lives in a fairy tale. It didn't take very long after meeting her northern prince that she impulsively decided to marry him.

After meeting him in person for a total of three weeks at the most.

Three weeks. I've had a longer affair with a frozen sandwich.

Yes, I know Panacea has been talking to her prince over the internet for almost a year. But does sharing e-mails and instant messages every few days really substitute the simple act of getting to know a person with an actual live conversation? Undoubtedly flawless internet personalities are frequently edited to present only the shiniest best without revealing any of the inevitable blemishes.

I bet Panacea never even googled his name.

Surely there is time to slowly build on a relationship before rushing to sign the marriage certificate so hastily.

Kiss The Girl

Like all cherished fairy tales, they all end with a happy ending where the lucky pair walks off into the panoramic sunset hand in hand after their various trials and tribulations. Though we had our doubts about that ever happening for our wandering sea urchin Lissome Lorelei, it turns out that potions and charms actually do work out fine at the end as she finally managed to walk down the aisle to the sound of a hot crustacean band.

On her two feet.

With the rest of the Lushes dressed up to the nines in attendance. Not forgetting our Charming Calvin as my plus one yet again. Turns out life truly can be the bubbles under the sea.

Sarah : The wedding went off smoothly! Time for champagne!
Paul : Phew! Thought we were going to have to break out the poison instead!
Calvin : You brought poison again?
Shalom : Abuthen?

With all the trials and tribulations right before she set off on her voyage into the sunset, could you blame us for doubting? As soon as the wedding date was set, problems seem to plague the wedding planning from bridezilla botherations to parental predicaments. Have to admit there were even times when I wondered if the little mermaid would end up returning the favour by poisoning the shockingly perverse sea witch mother-in-law.

Can't say I would blame her.

Just two weeks before swamped by all the pre-wedding chaos, a jittery Lorelei stood inches away from leaping back into the indigo waves for her beloved fathoms below. Land and shore be damned. It was all I could do to talk her back into her well-appointed suite with all her whosits and whatsits galore. Not forgetting her prince.

But she seemed perfectly composed by the time we finally caught up to her the night before the wedding. Though I found myself astonished to find myself standing beside a distressingly fragile Lorelei.

Paul : OMG have you been starving yourself?
Lorelei : Just a little bit of stress with the wedding.
Paul : So you ate only salted seaweed for six months?
Lorelei : I'm not that thin, am I?
Paul : You're almost a 2-D animated character.
Lorelei : I could still smack you with the conch shell. 
Paul : Sure you could even lift that? 

Think half her weight was her voluminous hair. I was this close to stuffing her with a kelp sandwich.

Lorelei obviously didn't need to have wasted herself worrying since the wedding went on smoothly without a hitch. Each little clam there knew how to jam there, each little slug there cutting a rug there... the little mermaid needn't have worried. Even the sea witch behaved herself relatively well.

Though I was ready with darts in case she didn't.

And we finally had the prince kiss the girl.

What Fairytale Princesses Believe

Though the common belief is that fairytales were invented mainly to instill unimpeachable moral values in the impressionable children, I believe it also helped quite a lot in keeping them biddable. Dare to misbehave and you'll be eaten by horrid carnivorous trolls under the bridge. Make noise after bedtime and the monsters under the bed would eat you.

No doubt it also helped stem the otherwise endless stream of enquiries from the ever-inquisitive, apparently inexhaustible children. Sometimes I don't blame their frazzled parents for cooking up inane answers to their impossible questions... all just to shut them up. 

Kid : What is that? What is this? Why is this? Why is that? Who is that? Who is this? 

Father : Everything can be explained by magic. 

Kid : What? Mommy said there's no such thing as magic. 

Father : Well she's wrong. Believe me, it's a thing.

Could I just say it would be seriously tragic if you're an impertinent rugrat who doesn't believe in magic!

Paul : What are you doing?
Panacea : I must pour the tea clockwise three times and anti clockwise twice. That's what my governess told me! It would bring me good luck and fortune.
Paul : WTF.

But as usual, things are very, very different over on this side of the Big Puddle. Rather than our disgruntled junior cynics in the city, we have our very own gently reared fairytale princess Pretty Panacea who was cloistered in a secret convent far, far away, constantly sheltered from every necesssary evil that could ever befall her.

Of course being sequestered all alone with the superstitious abbesses also meant being fed some of the most peculiar old wives' tales ever. After all our gullible Panacea would only accept it as the gospel truth!

Panacea : Oh you're eating mee sua!

Paul : Yeah, longevity noodles. It's a Fuzhou thing.

Panacea : Also good for fertility. Keeps the ovaries pumping.

Paul : *choke* 

Panacea : Yeah it must be something in the noodles. Also makes the uterus springy. 

Paul : WTF.

Panacea : Really, that's what my trusted governess told me!

Paul : Good for my ovaries? You mean I could have gotten pregnant all on my own! 

Well who am I to disabuse her of such a fanciful notion. I bet she believes in fairies as well!

Prince in The Tower

'Once upon a time there lived a princess not too far away from here. Educated in the arcane skills of apothecary, she took charge of the royal apothecary upon the return from her studies with the dubious support of some ever unhelpful, always grumpy minions who muttered ever of impending mutiny.

Though she had recently recovered from recent heartbreak, our princess still managed to find love with a Northerner from far yonder, all through the benefit of email. Since she had only seen fit to meet him twice. 

Which didn't suit our princeling well for he insisted on travelling to find his true love. But rather than show him the wonderfully famed sights of her kingdom, the princess immediately locked the poor unwitting prince in the tower for the remainder of his journey to hide him from all who knew her.' 

Prince : I pledge my life to you!
Princess : Very nice but sorry, you're still staying locked up in the tower. 

Not exactly the happily-ever-after you're searching for. We've all heard of despairing princesses being locked up in towers far, far away hoping to for a white knight to rescue them. Over here, we have the reverse happening.

Paul : Seriously. You're locking him in the house. 
Panacea : Well I can't very well let anyone see him in town! Everyone would start talking!
Paul : Let them talk!
Panacea : And call me an unprincipled woman for having an affaire barely weeks after a breakup?
Paul :  So you're keeping the new fellow in hiding?
Panacea : Yes!
Paul : Even from us.
Panacea : I'm not ready for him to meet anyone yet.
Paul : Is he wanted for murder? Is he madly insane? Is he grossly hideous?  
Panacea : Of course he isn't. Why would I date such a man!
Paul : By hiding him from your friends, it sounds like you're ashamed of something.

Don't know what a man would think to have his supposed girlfriend keep him in hiding. On the way here, poor fellow was probably expecting to be welcomed with glad hearts, open arms and possibly a royal wedding. No doubt fooled by our Pretty Panacea's sweet promises. Not exactly the stuff of fairytales to find himself unceremoniously stuffed into the dark, dank closet when guests come by.

Honestly I would be highly suspicious if my partner refused to have me meet any of his friends. Wouldn't there be something really wrong if you wouldn't allow your friends to meet someone that significant in your life? Otherwise what possible reason is there to hide?

Who knows, maybe her prince really is grossly hideous.

Or a hunchback?

Love At First Sight

Basically there is no feel.

Really, how often have you heard this familiar whine?

Loads of my singleton friends - quite a few extremely eligible and far more handsome than these lucky buggers deserve to be - still find themselves busy trolling the homosocial media in search of the ever elusive one. With modern-day tech-savvy fairy godmothers such as Grindr and Jack'd to lend a helping hand, several times a week these knights would bravely head out on another dating expedition with their latest suitor, hoping beyond hope that their one and only Prince Charming has finally made it on his white sedan.

Unfortunately to no avail since they are searching for that mystical lusty feeling written about only in fairy tales. That magical love-at-first-sight, that-arrow-through-the-heart lightning-in-the-dark invisible-violins-playing one-leg-daintily-raised Love At First Sight. Capital letters yes.

Eh, sorry but still not feeling it.

Obviously the illogical kind that makes one impulsively risk dangerous dragons, calamitous curses and wicked witches to rescue a distressed damsel you've only once glimpsed through a faraway tower window.

That feel.

At least that's what Bibimbap Ben wants to find in a man. Blame happily-ever-after fables and overly sweet rom-coms. When it comes to Ben, apparently an utter lack of chemistry during a first date would extinguish any hope of ever having the next.

Ben : One date is all it takes!
Paul : Surely some guys grow on you, you can't base your entire judgement on just one meeting. First impressions can be wrong.
Ben : But basically there's no feel.
Paul : Feel?
Ben : Yes, chemistry!
Paul : You mean that lightning strike when your eyes meet across an empty room? The sudden electrical charge when your hands touch?
Ben : Yes!
Paul : Aiyo! That's pure lust at work! 
Ben : It's love!
Paul : At first sight?! Haven't you heard of the soup theory about love? Well more about arranged marriage but still...  Lust at first sight is like piping hot soup that grows cold over time while the love that takes a long time are like cold broths that you heat over time.
Ben : Soup?
Paul : Basically you've got to know a person first. And I doubt you can really know someone from the first date.
Ben : But there's no feel!

That always stumps me. The feel. Exactly what are they looking for? Do they seriously expect spontaneous fireworks and earth-shattering quakes along with the mind-blowing instant attraction? Frankly I'd be a little worried if that all happened during the first meetcute!

Seriously how can you possibly fall heads-over-heels in love when you barely even know the person? Doesn't that take time and effort? Shouldn't we be a little less quick to dismiss someone after a first meeting? Just imagine if our fairy tale beauty, Belle, had gone with her erroneous first impression of the hideous Beast rather than take the time to really know him.

Belle : Eeeew. You are hideous. I am so leaving now.
Beast : I know I have a bad temper but -
Belle : I meant your face. Eeew. Could you talk to me facing the wall instead?
Beast : But I am different inside. I'm articulate, intelligent, kind, gentle, I can even make birds come to my hand when I sing and -
Belle : Whatever you despicable monster. Call me a carriage now.
Beast : There are so many things I could show you. A magical castle! I even have a wonderful library and -
Belle : Talk to the hand. God, my father must have been insane to match us together. 

Poor Beast. So much for inner beauty. 

The Art of Slander

Much like any newborn, generally the birth of a new relationship is greeted with much aplomb and cheers from well-wishers, friends and relatives alike. From your close intimates, you're inevitably showered with gaiety, gladness and glee - well maybe just a touch of the green-eyed - but still it's all good.

Blessings and good wishes abound usually. But in her version of the fairy tale, Pretty Panacea is deathly afraid some wicked witch might drop by at the last minute with something less than complimentary to say about her new relationship.

The wicked witches in this instance being her fellow ladies-in-waiting.

The wily northerner has all sorts of tricks up his voluminous sleeve!

Apparently during her brief jaunt to her relatives in the north, Panacea was literally swept off her feet by a barbarian baron. But rather than delight in the discovery of a new romance, Panacea is afraid of relating her good news to her friends for fear of slander.

Paul : So it's still a secret? No one knows you're seeing this virile northerner?
Panacea : Everyone thinks I just broke up with the prince! 
Paul : Your ex? That has been a year!
Panacea : Well the townspeople don't know that. At the behest of the crestfallen prince, the town crier was forbidden from reciting the proclamation of our separation till a month ago.
Paul : Now that's a problem.
Panacea : And there were already rumours spreading that both of us are conducting a clandestine affair.
Paul : Hardly clandestine if we're already seen all over town. You did tell them I'm practically your fairy godbrother with an emphasis on fairy?
Panacea : They wouldn't believe it. And now I'm to announce the arrival of my new beau? Three men in the space of that many months? Where would my reputation be? I'd be branded the town strumpet!
Paul : Those truly your friends wouldn't believe a word of that slander. 
Panacea : I honestly can't be sure they would. 

Beware the power of the sly tongue. Dastardly curses aside, something as simple as whispered calumny can easily transform someone from a prim, proper princess to a wild, wanton whore. Not even a poisoned apple required for that metamorphosis.

Even after much gentle persuasion, Panacea still refuses to reveal her aspiring suitor for fear of censure, castigation and curses from her shockingly judgemental sorority of sisters. Full of inward qualms over the possible loss of her inestimable reputation if her clandestine affair gets found out. Even worse, she lives in dread of insidious calumny carried out surreptitiously amongst her intimates in holes and corners.

So would you call that a friend? So-called frenemies who would immediately jump to the worst possible conclusions when they heard anything particularly iniquitous? As I learned way back in high school, any pseudo-friend who automatically believes the worst of me - and let's be blunt - can take a flying leap off a steep cliff. Certainly not worth keeping in my roster of bosom buddies.

Simple really. When it comes to slanderous gossip... those who care about me won't believe it, those who do believe it aren't worth caring about.

Bed Full of Peas

Bet you've all heard of the princess who mysteriously wanders the streets in search of desperate shelter from the pelting rain, only to find herself dumped onto a stack of mattresses with a single annoying pea underneath.

Never could empathize with the princess and the pea.

Even with twenty soft mattresses of down and feathers layering the measly pea, the spoilt lil brat could still whine, wail and whimper about the excruciating discomfort. Me, I would have dragged her out of bed and walloped her thoroughly.

Maybe even stoned her with a hail of frozen peas.

Unless it was a prince who looked like this - and then I'd offer a different form of torture. 

Really... what happened to being thankful? What happened to being satisfied? Are we a crazed culture of ceaseless cravings always wanting something more?

I ask for wealth, I ask for fame
I ask for glory to shine on my name
I ask for love I can possess
I ask for God and His angels to bless me

No doubt many have learned from that particular fairytale since there are so many I know who find themselves endlessly dissatisfied with their particular lot in life. Rather than focus on the twenty mattresses of comfort, they end up griping, grousing and grumbling about the insignificant peas - so much so that I am starting to think there are far more pampered princesses hiding in plain sight than even I knew! Getting discouraged, distressed and disgruntled - basically endlessly emo - because their boundless needs can never ever be met.

Me, I am a rather optimistic fellow. Always try my best to think that the glass is half full rather than empty. Seen far too many worse tales than my own - with the daily dose of human miseries served at my workplace - that I thank God each day for the blessings I receive.

I ask for nothing
I can get by
But I know so many
Less lucky than I

So yes, I do get a tad irritated when that perfect prince who seems to have it all whines about that one vexing pea in his life. Don't we all know that one prince charming, who by all rights should be on his knees daily thanking the Lord for all the blessed gifts received, but instead wails incessantly about his supposed misfortunes? Has he forgotten all about the twenty mattresses?

In comparison to him, I'm practically the hideous serving maid swabbing the kitchen floors but I'm still happy whistling a happy tune with little complaint. Could be worse. Really.

That Fairy Godbrother

Despite having a contingent of increasingly grumpy dwarves staging daily insurrections protesting her draconian regime, our fairytale princess seems utterly happily oblivious to her sorry plight at work. For Pretty Panacea, twirling around forest glades with various woodland creatures and singing with winged friends seems to take precedence instead.

Not that I entirely blame her since I can see no other solution than to guillotine the entire band of mutinous dwarves.

To keep her mind away from such petty annoyances, we keep up a regular stream of instant messages, all thanks to her still amiable carrier pigeons. Not directly under her exacting employ, the birds obviously don't see a logical reason for a revolt. Such affectionate missives flying back-and-forth, along with the irregular luncheon, would signal the beginning of something special for a man and a woman.

Not.

Fortunately for me, I have left loaded hints aplenty to reassert the fact that I'm far more fairy godbrother to her than charming prince. Perhaps Panacea sees me in the light of a gay Jiminy Cricket perched on her shoulder offering sage advice. Or at least that's what I hoped.

Paul : I'm like the fairy godbrother! Really!
Miranda : Doesn't explain why the princess is busy checking out royal marriage registries.
Paul :  Well she ain't gonna get a happily ever after with me!
Miranda : Better tell her before she buys a pumpkin carriage.

Sweet platonic dreams callously crushed when our colleague Miranda Merry caught wind of our occasional tête-à-tête. Based on her wholly unstable, wildly illogical feminine intuition, Miranda is starting to suspect that Panacea might be a little more ardent than we had both imagined.

Miranda : So a word to the wise, you'd better tell her you're gay before you proceed any further with this cozy relationship.
Paul : Think she already knows. 
Miranda : That's what you think.
Paul : I've told her 'I like men' dozens of times.
Miranda : She thinks you're kidding.
Paul : Why would I joke about being gay? It's not that funny.
Miranda : You make a lot of jokes!
Paul : Ouch.
Miranda : Nevertheless you'd better say something soon.

Does lightning strike twice? Am I leading someone on again? All well and good for my self confidence of course - but hell, why aren't any of the sexy boys coming after me instead? You mean my raging homosexuality isn't wildly apparent to all? C'est impossible! Although I might not be as fabulously swish as the local drag queen but I'm sure my far from discreet pink polka-dot bowtie says it all. Surely I don't have to start walking around introducing myself as the gay fellow.

So how do you broach the subject with a fairytale princess? Do they even have gay princes back in their kingdom?

Hunting for a Teenage Heart

Judging by the horrific retellings of beloved fables with increasingly disturbing revamps, you obviously can't judge a storybook heroine by her picture-perfect cover. If the wonderful Fables ( great collection of graphic novels btw ) would have its merry way, Cinderella would be a butt-kicking super-spy, Gretel would be an amateur witch and Beauty would be a murderous two-faced succubus. So who knows what hides behind that sweet gamine smile?

Even a seeming innocent like Pretty Panacea has some secrets to hide. Seems our local princess didn't spend all her time sewing samplers, strumming strings and singing serenades while locked up in a forbidding tower.

Panacea : I'm hardly Snow White! I have quite the unsavoury reputation!
Paul : You interest me greatly. Pray tell.
Panacea : Well I once had a brief connexion with a particularly dashing huntsman of twenty-three.
Paul : That's not particularly scandalous.
Panacea : I was barely fourteen.
Paul : That's not scandalous. That's borderline illegal. I feel like I should inform the respective authorities!
Panacea : But why!
Paul : The huntsman - a fellow I'd have to assume is a full-grown adult male - is stealing away the heart of a callow schoolgirl in pigtails barely out of primary blues!
Panacea : I was never callow. And by God, never pigtails!
Paul : A schoolgirl nonetheless.
Panacea : But the huntsman was extra charming!
Paul : Paedophile much? I would have taken an axe to him!
Panacea : He was always the gentleman. 
Paul : Let me put it this way, can you imagine me dating a teenager? 
Panacea : Eeew.
Paul : Precisely.

Am I the only one seeing how very wrong it would be for a reasonably mature man in his early twenties to dine and romance a vulnerable adolescent schoolgirl almost a decade younger? Isn't it just a little bit disturbing?

It's not the chronological age difference that matters to me but the immaturity of one half the relationship. Terribly old fogey of me but I could only think that the man has wickedly prurient designs on her virtue. Surely they couldn't have all that much in common to share - with him on the first rungs of the career ladder while she's busy cramming for her geometry exam.

Huntsman : What do you think of my new bar?
Panacea : You do know I'm underaged right?

Not that I would ever agree to it but could this be what our learned judges meant by speculating assumed 'consent' for the recent spate of disconcertingly lenient sentences for statutory rape?

As much as my heart - and other lower bits - might occasionally lust after the virile teenage youths in their secondary greens, I don't think I would ever act on it. Dewy smooth skin, firm young muscles and sweet innocence certainly couldn't compare with the frightening thought of dealing with the anger, angst and agonies of a hormone-stricken teenager. *shudder*