The Video Game

As far as Mike could remember, Super Mario never used a shotgun to rob a prostitute.

Sonic the Hedgehog never ran over policemen with a stolen pickup truck.

But Vic Vance, however, had more flexible morals.

11 year old Ravin Manickam was Mike's cousin. And he had the one thing that Mike wished he had when he was eleven: a PlayStation 2. Which is why every time Ravin dropped by the Stone family house carrying the little black sling bag and the bright orange folder full of DVD games, Mike was ecstatic.

And since Cousin Ravin's parents knew nothing about the video game rating system, their kid got to play any game he friggn' wanted, regardless of how profane or violent or gory it was.

Need for Speed: Most Wanted.

WWE Smackdown vs RAW.

Resident Evil.

The game Mike enjoyed the most was Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. Set in a fictional city resembling Miami in the 80's, the player assumes the role of a dishonourably discharged soldier Vic Vance as he performs various 'missions' for several crime bosses - all the while rising through the ranks of the underworld. These missions include repossessing cars, picking up 'packages' and collecting protection money.

One particular day saw Mike furiously thumbing the PS2 controller trying to get Vic Vance back to his hideout as the Vice City Police Department sirens blared close behind him. Cousin Ravin was beside Mike yelling out directions as Mike's sister Patsy watched all the action from the couch.

"Turn left!" Cousin Ravin screamed. "Turn left!"

"Cannot la!" Mike said. "Dead end!"

"Got secret way out la!" Ravin yelled.

"Blardy hell! They shooting at me!" Mike hollered.

Mama Stone pretended not to notice the mayhem in her living room as she walked by with a basket full of laundry.

Finally, having gotten back to his hideout, Vic is shown handing a suspicious looking white package over to his boss Jerry. The 3D characters cussed at each other and discussed further strategy. Jerry is seen cutting open the package with a knife and loud sniffing noises are then heard (off screen, of course). 

Curious of whether the boy actually understood what was going on in the game which was obviously designed for adults, Mike elbowed Cousin Ravin.

"Weih," he said. "Whats the fella doing there?"

Cousin Ravin looked at Mike with a blank expression.

"He snortin' coke la!" the 11 year old boy said. "That also you dunno, ah?"

Mike and Patsy exchanged glances.

Neither of them remembered Pacman doing that.

The Bottle Dive

If it wasn't for the fact that he shouted too damned much, Physical Training Instructor Othman Saad would be an awesome dude.

Today PTI Othman would be demonstrating to the junior midshipmen the proper technique of doing a bottle dive. His lesson objective was simple: teach these bratty college-kid officers to jump off a diving platform and into a swimming pool without killing themselves. 

But of course, he wasn't gonna do it himself, so he demanded that a volunteer from the group step forward. All 42 junior midshipmen shuffled anxiously from one bare foot to the other. Tiles around the swimming pool were scorching their feet.

"Aku nak jantan sorang volunteer!" Othman yelled. "Cepat!"

Everyone looked at the intimidating diving platform two storeys above them. Nobody wanted to know what the view would be like from up there. Especially if it involved taking the quick route back down.

"Cepaaaat!!" Othman prodded.

"PTI," someone finally stepped forward with enough fake confidence to make Othman grin menacingly. No points for guessing who that someone was.

"Ha, macha!" said Othman. "Kau naik atas tu."

Mike made his way up the stairs to the diving platform. His knees began to feel like jelly. His heart pounded like crazy. Everyone else breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's ok," Mike convinced himself. "It's all in my head... I'm a hero... This is nothing la Mike..."

His squad looked like ants from up there. Othman joined him on the platform and began to yell instructions so everyone, including those on the ground, could hear him loud and clear.

When you dive, you're supposed to cross your feet and point them straight downward, so your whole body slides through the water surface as smoothly as possible. Mike knew that. He had studied it in Fluid Dynamics already.

Most people when diving make the mistake of looking down at the water. This might cause them to tip forward in mid-air, sending them plunging head first. You're supposed to keep your shoulders back and your chin level. Mike knew that. He had studied it in Solid Mechanics already.

You're supposed to pinch your nose with your right hand as you dive because the sudden rush of water into your nasal cavity is likely to create the illusion of drowning, even when you actually aren't. Mike knew that. He had watched a Discovery Channel feature on it already.

He was all psyched to take the step forward across the edge of the platform. The water would be there to cushion his fall with open arms, he told himself. He took a deep comforting breath, even though it felt as if his heart was pounding in his throat. Just before he could shift his weight forward,

"Hoi, macha!" yelled Othman, pointing between Mike's legs. "Pegang pelir kau tu! Penting!!" 

All of us on the ground roared in laughter.

Mike didn't know that, of course - it was common sense.

The Deepavali Dinner

Despite the fact that every uncle he shook hands with gave him an envelope containing cash, money wasn't the main reason why Mike loved Deepavali so much. Neither was the obscene amounts of mouth watering home cooked food, even though Mike's aunties were all divine goddesses of spicy dishes. Forget the new Padini khakis and Polo shirts, Mike wasn't excited about that either.

What really got his motor revving were the firecrackers.

What's that you say? They're insanely expensive? They're illegal under Malaysian Law? If you play them, you risk going back to school missing a few fingers?

"Tell me something I don't already know, " Mike would tell you.

For as long as Mike could remember, playing firecrackers was a yearly ritual which came hand-in-hand with his family's Deepavali dinner. As a kid, he began with the Pop-Pop snappers. Then he moved on to sparkles, next graduating to spinners and thunderclaps. And by the time he was 16, the was lighting the family's twelve foot long Chinese firecracker.

Mike then retired to supervising his younger, more death-defiant cousins as they became old enough to play 'light-the-fuse-and-run-like-a-maniac'.

One year, Mike found himself reading the instructions on the side of a rocket shaped firecracker the size of his forearm. "Big Boom! Fun! Fun!" the poorly drawn cartoon children on the cardboard box declared. 

Mike's uncle who got the item said they were smuggled leftover fireworks from the closing ceremony of that year's FIFA World Cup. It said 'Made in China'. "By whom?" Mike wondered, looking at the size of it. "The Taliban?"

Mike began contemplating whether or not it was wise to trust an 11-year old to set fire to that much compressed gunpowder. Cousin Ravin, however, told Mike to stop being a pussy and allow him to light the first one.

Using a large Sprite bottle and handfuls of wet sand, Mike set up the apparatus of death near the edge of the playground. He then gave Cousin Ravin a 5 minute briefing about the proper ignition procedures involved, but it was pretty apparent Ravin was just waiting to get his freak on.

With a steady hand, Cousin Ravin lit the little green wire. As soon as it started sparking, he and Mike did a Charlie Chaplin run for cover. For the first ten or fifteen seconds, everything was silent. Almost as if the firecracker wasn't going to go off. Mike actually considered going to check up on it.

Then, without warning, the rocket shot across the playground and into the night sky with a deafening scream which left neighbours' dogs barking for half a mile in every direction. The furious 'thud' which followed when the rocket exploded in the stratosphere was so deafening, Mike was pretty certain that if there were angels up there, one of them must have yelled "Opocot mak kau!!"

For the entire town of Sentul to see, the sky turned into a colourful garden of sparks.

"Blardy hell!" Mike screamed in excitement, shaking the 11-year old boy by the shoulders. "Did you see that?! Did you see that?!"

Cousin Ravin was still in shock to say anything. His system wasn't prepared for what had just happened.

"Fulamak..." said a Malay guy from behind Mike. "Kuat tuuu...."

"Kuat giler, bro!" said Mike, his blood still pumping like crazy. "Bro nak cuba satu?" He rummaged through the black plastic bag and pulled out another one.

As he turned around to offer his fellow Malaysian another rocket, he noticed that there were two of them. And they were wearing police uniforms.

Why, Michael? I sighed. This is the fourth story that ends with you getting screwed over by a cop.