part 10

I don't know what I expected when I opened the suitcase. Maybe for the money to be gone, replaced with stacks of blank paper. Maybe torn-up, specks of decomposed paper that used to be money. So when 2 and a half million dead presidents stare back up at you, you can't do much but smile. The money was still here.

I had to find Bouchard. The when was now, the why for revenge. Where was the tricky one. Where to start? I looked back at the card she'd given me. Staring at it as if for some divine inspiration. Damn it. Well, if I wasn't the stupid one. She'd have to stay at the Hotel. It was the only place someone like her'd consider decent. The only problem I should conceivably have was finding her room. It was a small enough place that even trial and error wasn't a bad way to go.

Some time later I stood outside the Hotel. It wasn't that I was lazy or didn't bother to find the name. It really was called "The Hotel". Leave it to Lost Haven residents for the creative names. An ugly mass of neon letters composed the Hotel's name. Of course, several letters were shorted out, leaving a blinking sign that said "heel" instead. Appropriate, in a way. On the wall around the corner some hoodlums had made their ugly mark the only way they could. Graffiti wasn't uncommon in these parts. Some time ago the mayor announced a campaign to clean up all the graffiti, but it reappeared as soon as it was gone. Uglier, louder, messier. The door groaned in protest, almost as if protesting actually having to work properly. If anything, the Hotel was nicer on the inside. Then again, considering what it had to start with, that wasn't really saying much at all. Somehow ugliness had a way of attracting itself. The receptionist was snoring away in some corner, leaving the guest book in the open, but more importantly, unwatched. I was right on both counts. Bouchard WAS here.

Penthouse suite. Somehow I considered that ironic. If it was a confrontation I was after, at least it'd be done with nothing to hide. Surrounded by open air. Nothing to hide.

Stepping in the lift felt like putting my head on the gullotine block. Whatever happened would be at least one of two things: Life changing, and irreversible. Outside, the wind howled with a fury I'd never seen. Nothing was stopping me, though. One way or another this was going to end.

part 9

My head whirled, making the headache even worse. As the gorilla in my cranium grew to King Kong proportions, I got the rest of the sordid story from Rancini. Bouchard was working for Rancini a year back. She quit under uncertain circumstances, but not before putting a bullet into Rancini's spine, freezing his body in the delightful, twisted way it is. Bouchard disappeared until recently, when she reappeared in Rancini's trophy room and liberated the Esprit. Bouchard finds me having breakfast the day after. My headache reached levels hitherto and untracked by Man.

Back in my office, I pondered. Who was Bouchard working for? Why did she turn on Rancini? And the million dollar question, Mr. Philbin, was why she offered me money to track down something she already had? The only logical thing for someone to do was to try to get something for as little as possible. Even... something for nothing. Was all I was for was a simple distraction? Maybe she wanted to get me distracted so I focused all my attention on tracking the artifact, and none on the client. Classic. Maybe even hire me before Rancini did. All I knew was the chessboard pieces were scattered again. Pawns to queens, and crippled kings, whereas I was, and still remained, a pawn.

A shrill ring shattered my reverie. It was Phelps.

"Got summin' for ya Theo."

"Can't hurt to hear it I guess."

"Huh?"

"Just shoot."

"Oh, uh, right. This Cassandra Bouquet-"

"Bouchard."

"Whatever. She usedta work for the Rancini mob."

"I know, and?"

"Doncha get pissy with me Garrett. I hang up now and you're hung out to dry."

He had a point. I'd come to the stage where I let my anger at being used be shown for all to see. I needed to regain composure, or the case would just fall apart.

"I-I'm sorry Morgan. Go on."

"Right. Anyway she disappeared 'bout a year back, think she skipped town or summin, weird shit like that. Anyway, get this: she was some kinda researcher or a scientist."

"What's so special about that?"

"Ah, 'ccording to this she was about ta develop summin' new. Instantly-degradable plastics, it says here."

"That... that makes a whole lotta sense Morgan. Thanks."

"Actually if you ask me it don't, really. I mean, plastic's wunna those things that ain't s'posed to break down or summin' like that right? Right?"

I let the dialtone answer his question. I had to check. I ran over to the suitcase Bouchard had left the other day, tucked into the corner of the room. I hid it with the luggage, thinking it'd be more camouflaged that way. With trembling hands, I slowly slid the tumblers into place. With my hands shaking as they were, it took me the better part of a minute to get all three into the right combination. The case sprung open, and I damn near had a heart attack.

(sorry for the late entry. was really busy last night.)

part 8
I was creeping around the outside of Rancini's house when the world went black. At first I thought the moon had denied me its last shred of light, or that I was creeping further and further into darkness. Me opening my eyes told me I was wrong on at least the first count.

Rancini's ugly mug loomed in, and I wished I was knocked out again.

"Wha' ya doon ou'side m' house, Garrett? Yuh wan' yuh shuh die or somethin'?"

My head throbbed. Had a headache the size of a gorilla, and the monkey wanted out. The stench emanating from Rancini's mottled lips and teeth wasn't making it much better.

"Aaaah, god.. whaddya hit me with?"

"Whaddit mattuh?"

"Nothin', nothin', just curious. I gotta golf club sized lump on my head from what it feels like."

"Whatevuh makes yuh feel bettuh, Garrett... But yuh wunn be feeling bettuh anytime soon if yuh dunn tell me wha' ya' doon on muh lawn."

"Would you believe I was lookin' for somethin'?"

"Iss nadda first time, Garrett."

"Might not be the last time too."

"Wha' ya lookin' fuh now?"

"Espirit de Renard... heard of it?"

Rancini flinched, and I knew I hit a nerve. They called Rancini the unfeeling man, not only because of his ruthlessness in doing... business, but also because he literally couldn't feel. The entire left side of his body was stiff like me waking up with a hangover, and that contributed to his unique articulatory traits. Not to say his tennis game was a pushover, at the very least.

"Iss guhn, Garrett. Guht stolen."

Now there was news I didn't want to hear. I felt like I finally had things in my grasp, only for things to slip away again. And again. Somehow I felt life was a twisted mirror of myself, distorting and shifting once I thought I had things under control.

"Any idea who took it?"

Any weakness in Rancini's demeanour vanished. His features hardened, even more than I thought possible.

"B'shard."

part 7

I decided I needed to make a house call. I stood outside the gates to Rancini’s house, I was on the outside, looking in. I despised Rancini and what he stood for. His beautiful life acquired through ugly means, his house built on the backs of broken men. Usually I stayed out of his way, and he out of mine. Though maybe he thought me nothing to get worried about at all. I figured that even if Rancini didn’t have the Espirit, he’d know where I could find it. And who I’d have to get it from. I wasn’t in the business of museum robbery. Figured something with that kind of reputation would go to someone’s head, just another trophy locked up and admired in someone’s cabinet. And then a new trophy is acquired, and the other one is forgotten. I’d seen it all before.

I vaulted over the wall, landing behind some bushes. The grass rustled beneath my feet, whispering silent warnings to those who would care to listen. The clouds shrouded my movement, denying all but the most persevering the faintest sliver of light. I had to make my way to the house silently, and lemme be the first to tell you that’s not an easy thing to do.

You need to start walking on your heel, then slowly roll your foot from the back to the front, on the ball of your feet Anyone who’s seen this being done or has done it before can tell you: You look like a damn fool doing it.

With regards to human companionship, I was pretty much as good as alone. A lifetime of solitude and preference for the bottle pretty much helped in that regard. As much as the loneliness hurt, I had my own companion by proxy. I called her Ender.

She was my trusty revolver. I removed her from her leather bed and held her hand delicately yet firmly. I called her Ender for a reason. As much as I ached for the companionship, I never fired her. Every time you pull that trigger, every time you end someone’s life, a piece of you dies too. Every bullet fired ebbs away at your soul, until there’s nothing left but animated flesh.

I held her tightly as I inched my way to Rancini’s.

Author's note: decided to update the story every Monday. Don't bother checking daily for updates.

part 6

The person on the other line was Morgan Phelps, big kahuna of cops in Lost Haven. He used to be my partner when I was on the force, and he used to look up to me. Now it's my turn to look up to him, and all I get are nosebleeds whenever I try.

"Hey, Phelps."

"Theo. What'dya want?"

"Guy can't call to catch up wit' their old partner?"

"Get to da point, Theo. I'm busy."

"Right, right, fine. Need a favour from you. It's really urgent."

"I'm busy here. Hurry the hell up."

"Need to find out more about this dame who gave me a case today."

"What kinda case? Briefcase?"

"No, a job. Listen, you got anything on a Cassandra Bouchard?"

"Sounds classy. Like French or something."

"Yeah, I figured. When can I get this?"

"Soon as it's done, Theo. Bye."

The phone slammed down on the receiver, leaving in its wake a series of monotone. Outside, the rain had stopped. Down on the street, the people slowly resumed their routine, like ants from a hill. Never stopping to pause for breath or a refresher. Above, the sun shone, just like it did everyday. And in my office, as always, I was clueless. I pulled open the grime-streaked window for a breather and winced a little. Sunlight hurts the eyes of those not used to it. If nothing else, I needed a breath of fresh air. Down on the street, Rancini's boys were roughing up the cornershop owner, while the other ants continued on, following the path of the other ants before them.

You know how everything seems clearer after it rains? The rain washes away all the smog and the dust, and for a while it seems like a new day.

Rancini, the local crime magnate. He was a hard man, and that same policy oozed through in his boys. The family never did anything the soft way. Among other things, Alberto Rancini was a liar, a cheat, and a lousy husband. For all his influence, he never did realise his wife was sleeping with about twenty guys around town.

More importantly, though, he collected antiques.

Rancini was the key.

part 5

“You’re kidding, right?” The look on his face told me he wasn’t. Jimmy was a lot of things. Most of them would get him beaten up by less tolerant folks. But you could always tell when he was dead serious. Ah hell, I hate puns. His eyes and lips set in a grim stare.

“Theo, where’d you come across something like this? Normally this kinda thing is way over your head.”

”It’s part o’ the job. And hey, thanks for the vote of confidence. Really. I needed that. Now you gonna tell me about this thing or what?”

“Oh, oh, right. The Esprit de Renard used to be the property of Hunter Renard, the guy was some kinda high-profile thief or somesuch. Some kinda lucky charm I think. Then I don’t know how it goes but ‘parrently the amulet’s cursed, bad things been happenin’ to those who got hold of it. You ask me this Hunter fella don’t want nobody touchin’ his old lucky charm.”

Now, I wasn’t really one for this Mother Goose crap. Fairy tales were for kids and people who didn’t know they were kids. You ask me, most of this ghost, or curse hoodoo was made up by people who wanted their fifteen minutes of semi-obscurity. Say what you want, but to me real mysteries are why people can’t stay married, why no one cares about the everyman’s suffering. Tell me why that happens and I’ll probably die happy. Then again, probably not. But at least it answers questions.

I thanked Jimmy for his help. He responded by slamming the door in my face. Can’t fault the man for hospitality. Above, it started to rain. Raindrops splattered to the surface like dreams shattering when you wake up. It was bitingly cold. Elsewhere, a young couple ran for shelter as the rain came pelting down. A hobo cowered under his flimsy cardboard shelter as what was left of his protection crumbled around him. I turned up the collar of my coat and walked back in the rain.

Somehow the rain managed to mirror what I thought inside. I was being paid millions to recover somebody’s trinket. Not that it was very hard to find – you gotta know the right people first. But it was the reputation that bothered me. Jimmy’d told me about all the guys who’d gotten their hands on the Esprit de Renard. One died, his car swerved into a tree. Another fell out of an open window. Yet another drowned. The last one went insane. Some track record. Who was Bouchard to the Esprit and why did she want it?

It was still raining as I got back to the office. I shook the rainwater off my coat and tossed it on the chair.

I made a phone call.

part 4

The bell above the door tinkled as I trudged my way inside Jimmy Hannigan's shop. Figures the coin landed the way I was hoping it wouldn't. But that's me. Jimmy Hannigan was a friend of mine, or what passed as friends nowadays. Still, he was one of the only people in this town who I didn't feel instant animosity towards. Jimmy ran a business, though maybe not quite the business that most people'd be accustomed to.

He glanced up at me from above his newspaper.

"Get outta my shop."

"Come on, Jimmy. Can't a guy drop by to see a friend?"

"Some friend. What'd I tell you about coming back here after what you pulled with my wife?"

"I told ya, Jimmy, she came onto me! What's a guy gotta do?"

"Her? Come onta you? HAW!"

Jimmy didn't have the greatest tact in the world, but he had a heart of gold. At least, I like to think he did, it just made his personality a lot easier to stomach.

"C'mon Jim, I really need your help this time."

"You always 'really need' my help everytime, Theo. What's it this time? You need money? Booze? What?"

"I got lost things that need finding Jim, you're my man for these kinda things."

"Oh, you finally got a job, didja? What'choo gotta do? Find a lost puppy? Petshop's down the road, Theo!"

Jimmy burst out laughing, though I felt like making him burst in another kinda way. The kind that involved lead plugs and leaking bodies. But he was a friend, dammit. An important one. And I wasn't in the habit of plugging friends. Not even moronic ones. Regardless, I reached into my coat. Jimmy flinched a little. He was a good man, fought in the Great War. But thing about wars is it makes you jittery like a cat on cocaine. He'd had his fair share of being plugged once or twice, though not enough to kill him. I'm still convinced the lead did something to his brain, you don't go through something like that and survive with all your marbles.

I pulled out a stack of paper and tossed them onto the table. Jimmy visually relaxed, then took a long hard look at the papers as if sizing it up for prey.

"What's this?"

"With luck, a big fat paycheque."

He took up a stack of the papers and furrowed his brow as he concentrated. Finally, after what seemed like forever he glanced back up at me.

"You know what this is?"

"Was hoping you'd tell me."

"The Esprit de Renard, you fool. You know what it is?"

"Ah... nope."

"It's DEATH!"

To be continued

part 3

I sat back in my chair in disbelief. The chair groaned, and inwardly so did I. To hell with the chair, I thought to myself. I could buy hundreds of goddamned chairs. I could live somewhere else with this kinda payout. Somewhere nice. And I didn’t even have to lift a finger, I coulda just taken the money and run off somewhere. But I was thinkin’.

Seems the dame had some expectations, for me to find the things she wanted. Now, I figured that if she had the cash to throw around like that, she had ways to make sure I played ball. Seemed less and less like she’d just come into the money to me. I could run away with the money. But something told me that if I did I wouldn’t live to spend it all. Didn’t help that I had something which most of this city didn’t have, an odd reversal of the norm. I had morals, I had standards. Kinda explained my current situation. But I’d rather die poor without guilt than rich and scummy. Which was why I was an idiot.

I looked over the broad’s name card. Cassandra Bouchard. Didn’t recognize the name. Could be an alias. I flipped the card over and over idly in my hand while my mind wandered. I’d need to grill my sources on this one. Normally I hated calling in favours but I figured since I got presidents behind me, I had more power than I usually did. I sighed, and pulled the stack of paper out from the envelope again.

I started to look over it again, just like I had the last four times. I stopped. Already knew what the gig was about, and all the pieces on the chessboard – why was it bothering me that I didn’t know who the players were? I couldn’t stand unanswered questions.

Who were ‘they’?

I stood up from my chair and shuffled over to the window. Streaked with grime and caked with dust, it’d seen its fair share of hell. I couldn’t bear to clean that window. Would’ve felt too much like painting this shitty city up in makeup and giving it high heels. I didn’t like living in Lost Haven and I didn’t make a secret of it. Which was why I was tempted to take up the job – 5 million would let me live comfortably in somewhere nice and classy. Like Manhattan.

Like a kid’s mother, though, I wasn’t comfortable with things that I didn’t know where they came from. Call me paranoid. But I had a habit of looking in the mouths of gift horses. I sighed, again. Did it really have to come down to this? I made a choice the only way I knew how.

I flipped a coin.

To be continued

part 2
In walked trouble, brunette as usual. She walked – or rather, glided into the room. The kind of broad that made you sit up and then some, but that’s not saying much, especially for me. Wasn’t that I didn’t want to. Despite all that she was the innocent, rich kind, the type whose shit smells like roses. Black dress. Funeral, or one of those classy broads. Red leather purse. Gaudy enough to tell me that she just came into money. No classy dame would wanna be seen with that thing, I knew. Suitcase… Holiday? I could tell this would be a good day.

“I was in the area and I saw your sign. Are you a detective?”

“You don’t look the type to just drop by, missy. And the door coulda told you just fine.”

“Haha! They said you were a witty one.”

”Who’re they?”

She ignored my question and went straight for the crux of the matter – no one ever had a sense of humour anymore. Makes me wonder why I bother.

“I need you to find something for me. I’m told you’re good at that sort of thing?”

“Yeah? That the same ‘they’ you were talking about?” Before she got the chance to offer the witty rebuttal they all seemed to like giving, I continued.

“Look. I’m a busy man here… I ain’t got time ta look for whatever it is you lost. Call lost and found or something, yeah?”

“Busy enough to doze off in your chair? Look, Mr. Garrett, I’m very willing to make this worth your while.”

Maybe the realisation that she’d caught me napping stung me. Maybe it was the ‘worth your while’ comment. Or something else. All I knew was that she was right, I had nothing better to do, so it was down to playing findsman. I HATE playing findsman. But then again, I also hated eating leftover Chinese. Left a bad taste in my mouth. Wasn’t the only thing.

“How much?”

“How fast can you finish the job?”

“Depends on my motivation.”

The suitcase sprang open, and I decided maybe findsman wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“I am prepared to offer you 5 million dollars, Mr. Garrett. Half now, half upon completion. The details of the job are included inside the case. Have a good day, Mr. Garrett, and I hope to hear from you soon.”

Just like that, the chick was gone. Reminds me of my last relationship. Make that only relationship. Details.

Details. I dug through the suitcase and found a manila folder tucked underneath a wad of bills. An array of photos and text greeted me as I opened it up, looked pretty open and shut to me. So why get me to do the dirty work? Looked pretty foolproof, but then again fools had a rep for defying expectations. Then I got to the gist of it.

To be continued

part 1

The sun rose with practiced bravado.

That made two of us. I staggered off the couch and towards the liquor cabinet for some breakfast. My head throbbed like I'd gone ten rounds with Tyson, or maybe ten shots of cheap tequila. Looking over at the clock I realised that I'd been asleep the whole of yesterday. Not like I'd missed anything important though, life had a way of going on without me. I downed the most important meal of the day, grimacing at the rancid, cheap, vodka burning its way down my gullet. I looked back at myself, empty, distorted, and fragile. Mostly empty, though. Story of my life.

I tossed the bottle in the trash and sat down in my chair. The ceiling fan spun lazily around, doing nothing more than blowing hot air back down at me. In case I hadn't been blowing my trumpet enough, my name was Theo, Theo Garrett, private eye. That is, I would be one if I could get a case. Right now the only case I was interested in was one filled with my friend, JD.

The door rang, springing a spark of false hope that the sign on the door wouldn't be a lie after all.

To be Continued

Heh. Been way too lazy to update.

Found some awesomely trippy sites over the past couple weeks.

http://www.weebls-stuff.com/

^_^

And http://www.ritsumei.ac.jp/~akitaoka/saishin-e.html will make your brain hurt, or your eyes melt. One of those.

www.addictinggames.com for all your boredom curing needs.

You are a noble warrior.
You belive there is no true evil, and that everyone
can turn onto the good side. You spare your
enemies when they admit defeat. You fight with
a passion. You save those in need, and put
their saftey first. You use a long sword, and a
shield.


What type of Swordsman are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Fight with honor, fight for justice!

... And stuff.

HW's guide to surviving SIP:

1. Skive at every possible opportunity.

Skiving is of course the best way to cure stress, fatigue, and pesky notions of working hard. Pick a spot somewhere secluded while you don't have any duties assigned. If possible move a couch there so as to ensure ease of skiving and maximise skive potential. Have a stash of snacks and food there in case you're snowed in and have to survive for 3 days before help arrives.

2. Get to know your co-workers.

Getting to know your co-workers is yet another vital step. Familiarising yourself with them is the best way to go, in case you're forced to skin one of them to survive in arctic temperatures. A big man is better for this than a small woman, though you can fashion weapons out of her bones to fend off predators. Also, getting to know them helps in finding people who sympathize with your plight and are willing to swear allegiance to you.

3. See the outside world as often as you can.

Seeing birds and the sun is far better than seeing dust mites and that flickering fluorescent light over your head that just won't stay lit. Also, getting fresh air just means that you breathe less of the hallucinogens that they pump through the central air-conditioning system. Beat the system!

4. Cherish your off days and free time.

Every hour that you spend free is one less hour for them to twist your mind and turn you into a finely tuned killing and filing machine. Also, free time away from the office is a chance to plan your escape and break free without their video monitors spotting you and sounding the alarms.

5. Remember the law of inverses.

The more you enjoy your time, the faster your SIP will seem to pass, and the greater chance that they'll hire you again, sending you back to square one. Of course, when you do go back to school you'll just wish you were at work again, where you 'didn't have to do no dang projects and homework'.

Remember, either way, you can't win!

King Crimson - Walking on air

Close your eyes and look at me
I'll be standing by your side
In between the deep blue sea
And the sheltering sky
If we find no words to say
To the rhythm of the waves
Then we'll both surrender there
Walking on air

And the worries of the day lie down

Under cover of the fading clouds
The secrets of the night
Come alive in your eyes
You don't have to hurry
You don't have to try
Cause you don't have a care
You're walking on air

Haven't really been doing much that warrants a blog entry. So we'll sing instead!

Another 10 reasons why I love you:

1. You're wonderfully kind and caring.

2. We're too similar.

3. You love animals

4. You go out of your way to treat me like a king

5. You've shown me many new experiences, opened me up to newer possibilities

6. You love food =p

7. You don't mind when I call you

8. You make me feel loved and important

9. You always surprise me day to day

10. I just do.

I feel pretty tired. Pretty much settled into work, is that what's brought on the fatigue? Resigned self to spending another.... *checks donut of misery* 139.97 days to go on SIP. Missed CCN day today because of a last minute job, too. Gragh! At least I get to spend next Tuesday with kitten... I hope. Must check the schedule when I get to work tomorrow. Speaking of which, I have the dubious distinction of having to work this weekend, while everyone else is enjoying the off day. Sigh. Must not let that get me down! I guess off days are off days in the end though.

Been feeling lethargic lately. Probably the early mornings, I'd say... Ah well. It's National Day tomorrow. What does that mean? To me it's just another day. I've pretty much lost track of normal week times, now it's either "working day" or "not working day". Heh.

Upside is that I've been seeing kitten everyday so far this week ^_^ Thanks love, I don't know how I'd have made it through without ya! You bring this joy to my life that nothing else can quite live up to. Also, I've been a shrink to a couple of friends - who turn away feeling lots better and praise me later for it =p
The doctor is in!

Odadjian is a Giant Dragon that carries a Flamethrower, and has an Extra Head, a Massively Swollen Skull and a Metal Jaw. Strength: 9 Agility: 8 Intelligence: 15 To see if your Giant Battle Monster can defeat Odadjian, enter your name and choose an attack: fights Odadjian using Strength Agility Intelligence

Long time no update. Anyway, yesterday was easily the best day I had! Yesterday was me and kitten's 3 month anniversary, and it was the Sum 41 concert which I didn't have to pay a cent to go to. Gwahahhaa.

Anyway, left the house earlyish to go to Raffles City SC to buy the flower bouquet. They only had 2 purple tulips left so I picked a nice pink one to go along with it. Then over to Chocolate Box to buy some choccies and write a note to go along with it. By the time it was about 1.20 so I had to rush a little if I was to drop it at the front desk, which was my original intention. But when I went over there, she was just coming back from lunch with Pam and so I was kinda caught =p she called me just as I reached Raffles Place, I was trying to keep it a secret from her but kinda failing. Made her worry a little as I didn't sound myself, which was true since I was really trying to keep my surprise. As it turned out I walked out from the MRT and she and Pam were right behind. Sigh.

She was surprised, to say the least, and walked me downstairs to the MRT to wait for my train with me. We chatted a bit and then I was off to work >_<

At work, nothing special. Bummed around waiting for something to happen. Then finally at about 7 or so Arti (Mulchand) was done and we went over to Fort Canning for the concert. It didn't really start until about 7.50, when Pug Jelly or whatever they are came on stage to open for Sum 41. Too bad they were terrible. Haha, now I know why John doesn't like them at all. Saddest part was when the drummer threw his sticks into the crowd and the crowd threw them right back. And one of them was talking to the audience on the mic, and they cut it to stop him talking. Funniest thing ever!

About 30 minutes after that Sum 41 finally appeared to much cheering. Concert wasn't too bad, was pretty fun. My first big concert anyway ^_^ I left at about 9.35, half an hour before the concert ended, to go meet Kitten at Dhoby Ghaut MRT. Hee, turned out she received 2 tins of Mrs Field's cookies as thanks for covering an event at Junction 8. Added to the flowers and the chocolates she got from me today, that's one big load to carry. We walked over to PS since she hadn't eaten yet, and the only place that seemed opened was Macs. So there wasn't much of a choice in the matter. Tian came down later to join us to eat, crazy Tian as usual. Met her earlier during the concert, too, complaining she was too sticky and sweaty from headbanging in the mosh pit too much. Haha. Tian left earlier than we did, though, so we just finished off our food then went on back. Kitten insisted on sending me back, so we took the train up to Yio Chu Kang to take the 70. We got down near my stop, and I walked her to the 88 bus stop to take her bus. Kitten gave me a tin of Mrs Fields to take back, and we waited for her bus to come by. Sent her off then it was back home for me. Bummed around a bit and then finally crashed for the night.

Well today was like day 3 of my SIP. I'm slowly getting into the groove of things. Generally most of the people at STTV are quite whacky, and funny to be around. Generally easy going bunch. That didn't stop me and John from likening SPH to a prison that we willingly revisited daily. We devised a system for it:

On monday, it would be known as Auschwitz, cause it was the beginning of a work week. Tuesday, the Gulag. Wednesday it'd be known as East Germany. Thursday, we still hadn't decided what to call it. Friday was Cuba because it was the last day in the week. It's funny that way. Oh yeah, we work from 2 to 10 from monday to friday for the first 2 weeks at least. Gerry (Geraldine)'s our supervisor for the most part, she's quite enthusiastic and bubbly for a person stuck without a social life. She's also the director for the news. She's awfully good. Arnold and Michelle are your quintessential newscasters, they seem kind of unapproachable but they're actually quite friendly. Arnold's from SJI, hail hail. Ah.... Vanessa and Gerard are both Director's assistants. They've more or less been tagging along with each other since Uni. To ESPN, then here. Like each other's shadow, haha. Don and Jennifer are the editors, they're somewhat older but they're still quite energetic and enthusiastic.

Ah well. That's just the gist of it. Basically me and John help out with the production of the news every night at 9.30. We help gather stats, stock info, and collate everything for viewing later. We also help to create the scripts and etc, and hand them out to the newscasters. It's a little hard to describe but as it goes along I'm sure we'll understand it more.

I'll continue this later then, just thought I'd write on what we had to do so you people would have an idea =p

Gah. Work today wasn't bad, but wasn't that great either. I guess I'm just adjusting from holiday mood to work mood, I'll grow accustomed sooner or later. Woke up at about 6.45, gave kitten a wake-up call (silly baby was lazing in bed for about half an hour when I called). Then got ready for work, left the house by about 7.45-7.50 to meet John at Braddell at like 8.30.

Walked into the toilet at Braddell to find John there, so bonus. Went to the building, expecting doom and gloom, not sunshiney happiness. Went to the front desk, got directed to the guardhouse. Saw Liling. Went to the guardhouse, got directed to the security desk. Got our work passes. Went upstairs, got there by 8.45, then waited for like 20 minutes while a couple of other people got attended to (including Liling) before we did.

Finally, got brought to sign our contracts. Standard company stuff. I think, not that I’ve worked for many large companies before. Heh. Make that *any* large companies before. Learned about our induction programme, got brought to the teaching facility to learn how to use the marvellous software. We started with ENDV, which is what we use to get our feeds from the wire services from Associated Press. Then moved on to Coyote3, which looks bloody archaic and ancient. I can’t believe the whole company is using that. >_<

Broke for lunch, so we went to the cafeteria. Not as big a selection as I thought there’d be, but then again there are always various coffeeshops in and around the immediate vicinity. So no worries there. Bummed around the lobby till about 1.50, then went upstairs to learn more about the library. They’ve got an extensive magazine section, I guess I’ll check through it on my downtime. Learnt a little about LotusNotes, and the reference sections. Nothing too out of the ordinary, or exciting. Then.. went to the art/photos section and met Mel, the cartoonist. Funny guy, friendly too. But he’s not that great of an artist. XP

Breezed through that, then went to back to the teaching fac to learn LotusNotes properly. Nothing too exciting or noteworthy there either, but then we got to leave by 5! Whoo! Just hope I get to leave at that time tomorrow too.

John said he was going to go meet Kris in town, as his “only tether to sanity”. John’s funny in that antiestablishment way. He more or less inspired me to do what I did next, I took a train down to Raffles Place to wait for Kitten, having tried to coordinate with Pam as to what time they were finishing. At about 6.10, she finally appeared, and I got up to get behind a pillar. Then surprised her when she came by. =)

She walked to the train station with Pam and their new friend, Jasmine, then said bye as they got on the train. I then got on the train with her and hugged her all the way to Pasir Ris. Gawd I missed that girl. *sigh*

When we got to Pasir Ris, went to Old Chang Kee to buy some fritters and the like. Bought a can of vanilla coke, sat down, talked a little, ate, then I had to go home since mum was nagging. =p If all goes well I can meet her tomorrow too… Hopefully.