Bigfoot in my Backyard

The day begins like any other in my now laidback life. Well, not like any other in that I am forced to wake up before noon.

"Jenn-IFER!" my Mom's sweet voice trills at the bottom of the stairs as I snuggle deeper under my blankets. If I don't answer maybe she'll stop.

"Jenn-IFER!" Slightly louder, some irritation creeping in.

"JENNIFEEEEEEER!" in stentorian tones. She was a teacher and she knows how to make her voice carry.

I gotta get up now or she'll be furious. Thing is I only fell asleep at four. Then I woke up for about one hour, listening to the bloody rat (we keep killing em, they keep coming back) scratching outside my door, and the lights of passing cars playing on my walls.

So I stagger down, looking like death warmed up, and there is Mom, with her cup of kopi susu (we LIKE Nescafe, deal with it). She has a newspaper propped up on the table and the moment I appear, starts reading out all the articles. For my edification. Or extreme otherwise.

Thank goodness, she starts with the curly news that Bigfoot has been sighted in our backyard: the forests of Endau Rompin. (Actually we don't have forests, we have jungles with snakes that kill you and leeches that suck out a pint if you don't detect and burn them off in time, but let's not split hairs) I spurt coffee back into my cup in derision.

"Which stupid idiot believes that? Now I've heard everything."

"Nolar Jenny, there must be something to it. BBC is coming to see."

"So BBC is oso stoopid, what's the big deal?"

"Aiya, you ah...the Orang Asli spotted the bigfoot. See, there's the drawing."

"Haha, you sure it's not Uncle Joe, hiding out in the jungle after pulling a con job?"

Her lips tighten. Conman Joe is her brother, after all.

Then she moves on to an article about a 11-year old dying mysteriously of "infection of the heart", investgations into brutal murders, a few fatal car wrecks (every festival season, people die trying to get back to their home towns. Our highways are way haunted). Bad news, bad news, bad news. I cringe as I attack my peanut butter sandwiches.

Then we go visit a sweet li'l old lady and I listen silently as she and my mother go through the contents of today's paper again with relish.

"You read about that little girl ah? What do you think she died off ah? Not denggi, they tested for denggi, so it must have been something else."

Aunt shakes head sadly. "Hospitals these days, useless you know. You read about that girl who was bitten by a cobra on her wedding day? The stupid clinics didn't have the anti-venom. So she died. So sad, so sad, what to do?"

And then they move on to snatch thieves who kill, and hired killers who walk up to your car when you're at the traffic lights, and liquidate you.

And I think, my sweet innocent Yeti, are you sure you wanna visit? It's a jungle out there, you're not safe. And now to top it all off, the tv stations are coming. You know what that means.

So seriously, go home Sasquatch. If you wait till next year (Visit Malaysia Year 2007), maybe you can get a good deal and stay at the six-star Datai in Langkawi. You'll have to settle for farmed caviar as the UN has banned trade in the wild variety, but times are bad, we must all make small sacrifices.