the adventure of inspector wahab

"What the heck"

"Only 3 kilos and the whole world needs to know? Fuck you la Hana. Who needs to know about how much weight you lose when it doesn’t change anything? You motherfucker." 

"Lan, kau dok mencarut-carut apa tu. Kau ingat mak ni tak tahu?" what are you cursing at Lan? And you think I don’t know? It was something along that line and it echoes across the small apartment from the kitchen to Azlan’s room.

He ignored his mum and continued scrolling the timeline up and down, up and down until nothing is left for him to devour, but his mind keeps on bringing him back to that girl's post. There is something about overweight girls and their self denial that really irritate him to the bones, and he can’t let this one go for all that is holy.

Ugliness is incurable, but weight loss is only a healthy life away. These Facebook posts on this product and that product are scabs from this whole cosmetic business. Everyone knows but those ignorant stuffs keeps on appearing on his Facebook timeline, and God knows how Azlan wish they’re smarter than this.

"Only 3 kilos, and you still look like a wreck you fat slob. I can't see any difference. How can you be proud of that? Have you ever heard of the word exercise?  Go for a jog for fuck sake."

Azlan takes a deep breath and his fingers begin to dance on the keyboards with all the profanity he is capable of.

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It is not a great morning for Inspector Wahab. It is only 5am, and he just drove all the way from the warmth of his wife to meet a dead kid in an unknown neighborhood. A girl just hung herself in the living room. She had been put down to the ground by somebody long before the police came, and the rope has been removed from her neck leaving a intricate pattern pressed on the cold dead skin. A new guy accidentally kicked a part of the broken chair on the scene, but everyone just ignored it. Inspector Wahab takes the identification card handed to him by his assistant.

"Nurhana binti Hassan,"

"Ah fuck this. Fuck all of this shit, I'm out,"

Now this case is going to be big for a week in the news and there, another sleepless nights for whoever that is going to be replacing him after he submitted his immediate resignation notice. He's been stupid enough working day and night when he could sit back and enjoy endless vacation if he had just sold his lands in Kedah earlier. No more police stuff and underage suicides for him.

"Say goodbye to Inspector Wahab shitheads,"

He's glad that the dead kid's dad called the police immediately. Inspector Wahab is tired of half decomposed bodies that smell nothing better than how they look. The only few things that is bothering him is the dad's whereabouts, and the closed tab of Azlan Rooney's Facebook page on the laptop full of Hello Kitty stickers in the girl's bedroom. More works for him in these early hours.

“Bali or Bandung? Or maybe I should perform the umrah first?”  Thought Inspector Wahab as the new guy repeat the same question he just asked a few moments before.

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"This is the best thing of the week, and its only Friday!" Exclaims Amir.

"Hana hasn't been replying your Facebook comment yet since last night you retard. I can't wait to see her face in the class," he keeps on swiping his iPhone screen up and down, up and down. Then he takes a look at Azlan who has not stopped yawning since the moment they exited Amir's dad's BMW. 

"Do we really have to talk about that fat slut? Amir, my Manchester United jersey, please make sure it’s an S size."

"I won’t wear any M okay?"

"What? Hahahaha fuck you la Lan. I'm gonna buy you an XXL."

"How big is an XXL actually?" 

That is the last thought in Amir's mind, before his instinct takes over at the sight of the speeding Proton Waja and he pushes Azlan out of the way with all his strength. The impact was so immense it sends Amir flying few meters away from the crash site. The sound alerted few passerbies who are usually numb in this cold morning air as it could be heard from the nasi lemak stall on the other side of the road.

The Proton Waja immediately leaves the scene, screeching and leaving trails on the asphalt. The road in front of SMK Taman Indah becomes congested that morning. Azlan totally forget about the Manchester United jersey and the differences that the sizes could make on his out-of-school appearance. Amir is now folded limbs to limbs in the pool of his own blood, a good excuse for the sight of a person vomiting from a distance in Azlan’s peripheral vision.

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Hassan is smoking for the first time in years, and he is on his fifth cigarette.  He takes out his wallet and manages to gather around RM14 worth of banknotes and coins. He regrets not going to the ATM first before he begins his fatal hunt. His work clothes since last night are drenched in sweat, and he is stuck in the middle of nowhere with his now fuel-less Waja. His shivering hands are gripping tight on the steering wheel.

"Dear God. Why is this happening to me?"

"Maybe you should just kill yourself. Then you can be with your daughter in hell,"

Streams of tears is racing down Hassan's face as he wonders if his sins are too much that God just have to take everything away from him. He exits his Waja and decides to leave it on the petrol stations car park, and he begins to walk on the side of the road. As he passes a thick spot of bushes, he takes out his phone and car keys and throws them away for good.

Hassan's plan was to cross the border and find a place to hide, but now he doesn’t even know if that is possible. He still regrets not turning back and finishes the job. He will come back, he promised himself. Even if he has to be a beggar in Thailand for years, he promised that he would come back for that boy.

He would get his revenge for his only daughter and skin that bastard Azlan alive. If only he had hit the right kid.

“Wrong boy Hassan. Wrong boy,”

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IPOH: The suspect for the hit and run case in that killed a student in front of a school in Subang two days ago was found dead last night on Jalan Maling with a large amount of drugs in his possession. He was found by the locals in a location more than 200 kilometres from where he lives, and declared to be dead due to overdosing on drugs by Assistant Commissioner Chu Kai Sok.

"This is an example of a good connection within the police," according to him.

He was first missing from his house after he called the police, informing that his daughter had just committed suicide. He was then involved in an accident in front of SMK Taman Indah that killed Amir Hafiz bin Khalid Romzi, 15 and escaped from the scene in a Proton Waja.

He is suspected to be under the influence of drugs during the accident. According to the neighbors, he worked night shift most of the time and used the drugs to help him stay up. His daughter's suicide is said to be caused by the depression due to his recent divorce.

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"These reporters are so fucking good. Right? And believe me they know how to get paid right too,"

"I was thinking about killing you along with him boy, but you really remind me of Amir every time I look at you,"

"Whiskey? You?" Datuk Khalid's voice then echoes on and on in the spacious office. The two other people in it never said anything yet.

Inspector Wahab nods. Maybe some whisky can help him to forget what happened last night. He needs a clear mind to plan his dream retirement.

Azlan keeps on running his dead eyes on the article again and again while ignoring Datuk Khalid. He is now aware of the fact that it doesn’t matter if he tells everyone the truth, everyone would still believe what is written in the newspaper. Hell, they would cite it. He should have said thank you to Datuk Khalid as his mother told him to, but he doubts that he would remember it when he got sober.

"Everyone is a killer. Mine is just an unfortunate accident,"

"I did not just kill three people. I did not kill Amir. I’m innocent for God sake,”

He put down the newspaper, and shifts his gaze towards the book racks. He then tries to make meaning out of the scattered vertical titles on his left.

"What's his name Wahab? Hassan right?" Inspector Wahab nods again as he put down his now empty glass.

"I asked him kid, why did you kill my son? Before he even answered I stepped on his face again and again until I realized I was jumping on him! Like on a trampoline you know? His ribs caved in when they picked him up! Feels good you know. Feels good,"

"No guns kid. No guns, just plain old hiking boots"
"Can you believe that he's walking to Thailand? Crazy right?"

"We were supposed to be in England now my son,"

And Datuk Khalid goes on and on.

Azlan finished his search for meaning in the book racks, and turn his head towards Datuk Khalid, and he sees what Amir would one day turns out to be, if he were destined to live long enough but he’s now dead before all that could happen. Datuk Khalid has drunkenly mistaken Azlan for Amir, as he slips deeper into the alcohol.

Inspector Wahab asks for another drink, as he tries not to think of how he could postpone his plan to sell his lands in Kedah. In another years maybe, for he now have more than what he planned for. Hell, with the money Datuk Khalid just paid him he could book a ticket to Mecca and never come back. Maybe the sight of the Kaabah would somehow help him to forget Hassan's face.

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Hana can't stop looking at herself in the mirror. The diet plan she promoted on Facebook really works. The 3 kilos she just lost really shows.

"This is so much better than exercise," she turns around and around looking at her own reflection. Her young curves are now exactly in between perfections, as other girls had told her. She can't help not to notice how Amir was looking at her all the time, and she feels loved. But it is not Amir that she wants. She’s not into rich boys and their whole pompous charade.

After around half an hour worth of gossiping with her mum on the phone, she decided to take a bath before she gets to bed. As she feels the water dripping all over her, she tries her best not to think of Azlan and his majestic moves on the field.

It's like he had a third eye high in the sky, reading way before each of his opponents acts, mercilessly scoring goals after goals. One after another he takes everything from his inferior enemies and comrades. Goals after goals, like an angry god punishing weak mortals. When the whistle blows she would come running down the field towards him and celebrate his glory in his arms. Around them are their kids, miniature Azlans ranging from 3 to 9 years old.

The sound of the beeping rice cooker wakes Hana up from her midnight daydream. She then scrutinize the food in the refrigerator to make sure that it would still be good when his dad got back from his night shift. After double checking the locks on her front door, she sprints with all her might towards her bedroom and dives into her bed. As she lifts her laptop onto her tummy, she notices a notification icon on her Facebook, and her heart stops beating for a fracture of a second.

"Azlan Rooney,"