[continued from STAGE ONE- PLANNING (TO PLAN) ]

Only a genius plans.

– J

So, after careful thinking, these are the steps for me to follow:

1. Prepare.

2. Execute.

And lists of things to accomplish:

1. Strong but not so much prominent muscles.
2. Fast, to run away quickly.
3. Endurance.
4. Not so tanned skin.
5. Body that could recover quickly.
6. Facial expressions shall not betray myself.
7. Able to disguise myself as different characters.

1. Do not easily give up!
2. Always remember the ultimate goal!
3. Authorities are not as smart as me.
4. Do not leave any evidence behind.
5. Be prepared for action all the time.
6. Never forget to be good too.
7. Success always come to me.
8. Do not fall for anyone.

1. How to pick a lock.
2. How to speak in different accents.
3. How to makeup.
4. How to be innocent.
5. How to talk to everyone.
6. How to transform into another gender.
7. (waiting to be updated)

1. Leather clothing.
2. Portable electronic devices.
3. Sturdy rope with hook.
4. Diamonds.
5. Transformable briefcase/suitcase/backpack
6. Digital watch.
7. 90% dark chocolates.
8. Makeup set.
9. Stationery.
10. Sterilization equipment.
11. Isolation headphones.
12. Manufacturer-untraceable notepads.

This is the initial list, when now I am still an amateur with exactly zero experience.


[continued from PROLOGUE]

With successful planning, I already win one-eighth

or zero point one two five

or twelve point five percent of the battle. –J

Ok, now I’m battling against myself, shall I plan with an electronic device or just the traditional pen and (lots of) paper?

For the former, I could ask for a custom-made e-Floor, that is, a floor that is actually a huge screen running the latest OS on the floor. If I were to go with this option, the size of the floor shall fit a quarter of my Chamber of Wits. Approximately 20 metres by 20 metres shall be enough I guess? The plus point for a digital plan is that I could always expand my thoughts limitlessly and effortlessly. And creatively. And colorfully. Not-time-consumingly. Artistically. Awesomely. Fantastically. Nicely. Beautifully. Slickly. Cutely. Heavenly. Deliciously (where did this came from?!) Ran-out-of-adjective-ly. Yet it requires a lot of time to build a new floor, and should it be touch-resistant or not? Or do I need to wear special clothing to operate the machine? Fine, scrap this.

For the latter though, I would be contributing to deforestation which in turn leads to a temperature rise and finally global warming and later melting icebergs and then a rise in sea level and oh my gosh my house will be flooded and I will lose everything. Of course, traditional is always best as I will get that amazing feel on that piece of writing material, a white paper, with an extremely large size. The thickness shall be just right, perhaps 0.2mm would be nice, the texture, ah the texture…it shall be smooth but not until the point where I could trip on myself. I would even prefer it slightly scented with a mild foresty smell. That’s heaven, but please put in mind that I would be using those to plan for hell. Next the pens, multi-colored, brightly colored ones! Well, we remember better with colors, I certainly do not want to forget any details. Plus, I could flaunt my creativity with colors and maybe one day these ‘crime blueprints’ or you could just say ‘evidence’, would be exhibited in a glamorous gallery, hopefully in a nearby future (I hope I am still alive and well by then, so that I could visit and admire my masterpiece again).

The verdict will be: the humongous and smooth and flat paper and the colorful pens.


[continued from My Vow]

There is a criminal in everyone’s mind.
— J

Yes, I can do this.
Well, at least I couldn’t see why can’t I. Yes, you can punch me in the face straight to my nose and make me bleed for my arrogance, if you dare so.

You see, I have everything. All of the qualities to be what I want to be (the ultimate criminal).

I have, youth, the most important of all, wealth (equally important), wits (very important too), physical fitness (super vital) and plenty of resources (the most vital of all).
I am perfect and almost fictional.

My Vow

I vow,

To be the ultimate criminal,
To be the most feared of,
in the past, at present or in the future,
To train,
To prepare,
before starting a reputation,
To call myself J,
J for justice,
To achieve all of the above,
and call it justice.

I vow to complete My Vow.

A love letter by an alien, to an alien

Hi you,

We met last week in school, you were training to use laser guns and you accidentally shot one of my ears off. It grew back, no worries.

I…have a confession to make.

Even with my cuboid dysfunctional brain, I could conclude that, I love you.

Your eyes, one at the front, one at the back, one on the left, another on the right, are so perfectly placed I fell in love with it.
Your nose, so tiny and barely visible yet I could see it through my magnifiable vision. It is cute, I would like to pinch it (sadly, i am born with claws and don’t worry I will not hurt you with it).
Your ears, so beautiful. I remembered seeing it in the Earthling Biological Science textbook, you have ears like the Earth creature called, voila, elephant. It is so beautiful.
Your mouth, perfectly round yet so cute. I would like to kiss that very much, I truthfully wish that you would give me the chance to do so even if my lips are a perfect square.

I love your everything.

Your smile, although your lips are still a circle when you smile, but I can tell it when you smile, I swear. It is always heartmelting.
Your attitude, hot and cold, polite and rude, you are always different at times. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean that you have disociative identity disorder. I just love the way you are.
Your skin color, pink and green checkered boxes, matches my turquoise and orange stripes. See, we were bornt to be together.
Your running around in my head and taking of my precious time, I think of you everyday, every minute, every second, every millisecond, every nanosecond, even every picosecond.
The way you walk, so graceful, leaving a slippery trail and the sweet smell of you. I just don’t understand why other people hate that smell and slime. I just know that I love you.

I promise you, I would make you the happiest person in the Universe.
I would hold you until whenever.
I would never let go
I would love you.

Even with my cuboid dysfunctional and lovedrunk brain, I could conclude that, I love you.

Would you consider giving me a chance, pretty pretty please?

True love,


“You’re gorgeous,” he said.

“Don’t tell me that, show me,” she said.


How do you show someone that she is gorgeous? He had a peculiar answer for that.



Made her breakfast, homemade sausages shaped like ‘G’. Accompanied with her favorite latte. If she was flattered, she did not show any sign of it.


Asked her to marry me. With a round ring, she said she would think about it. She was not impressed.


Gave her a necklace made by a famous jeweler with a letter ‘R’ on it, for her name and the letter ‘R’. She finally smiled at me, but it was still a just-friendly smile.

mental note to self: need to show how willingly I am to sacrifice for her.


Made her her favorite cookies, all ‘G’ shaped in a ‘G’ shaped box. She thought it was store bought, but still seemed happy. I think she is starting to like me.


Running out of ideas. Sent her an ‘E’ shaped box filled with paper cranes. She did not look happy. Can’t she see that I’m going crazy over her??


Wrote a love letter to her, accompanied with her favorite chocolate cake, its circular in shape. She did not read the letter in front of me, wonder how she feels…


Arranged ‘i love U’ on her office desk. Her colleagues laughed at her, she was not happy.


She was reading the news when suddenly she saw a big ‘S’ on one of the breaking news. She could not speak for a few moments and when she regained the ability to talk, she  started to cry.

Headline read:



She never had a hard life, yet the reality of life made her suffer.

Despite her age and maturity, she had never really sweated (but she was not fat). She never though that one day, after years of spending cash like flowing water, she had to learn to save and make money. To buy something, though what she intended to buy was not that costy, but she had to work hard for it.

I once asked her, “Are you sure it’ll be worth it?”

With that confident and a bit arrogant smile, “I am certain.”

So there goes the quest of hers, her smooth hands started to become rough — a result from washing too many plates, she said that she needed quick money, though I never thought it was necessary. She spent time working for hard earned cash, rather than buying the latest fashion wears.

She really changed, to a better person.

As her best friend, I knew everything and associated with her lies to her parents. For the question of morality here, we both thought that keeping her parents in the covers will be the best choice.

After a few months of dishwashing, she got enough money to buy a calf. Her new pet, she told her dad. We can get free milk, she said to her mom. Nearing to success, she told me. This is not the end of the story.

Somehow she had the tendency to buy the calf the best grass to graze on and proceeded to more sweat-trickling jobs. It was not long until she had a lawn at her family’s backyard all to the going-to-be cow.

Actually, her parents knew the truth, because I verified the facts for them, well half of it. They did not know that their pampered daughter will sacrifice this much in the name of love.

She had mysophobia, she hated touching livestocks. Yet she was milking the cow rather clumsily, a novice apparently. Then she processed the milk with a method she discovered from the meagre supply of books in the library. She was very near to success by then.

The only thing now that could be detrimental to her pursue would be time.

They had not met since he wanted her more mature, more independent. She wanted him to wait. He agreed. It was painful for both of them, especially him, he did not know how long the wait would be. He was afraid that she might change her mind. He was afraid that he would not see her again. He was afraid that he might regret what he have said (he did, a little). He was scared that he could not love her anymore.

None of them broke their promise to each other.

Right from the smell of it, he knew that she worked hard. He was a bit broken looking at her now not-so-perfect hands and clothes from the last season. Yet the look on her face was unmistakable, she have changed. For him. The cheese would be the proof, that was his favorite cheese which was specially formulated and the production for it stopped years ago, she recreated heaven in his mouth. And in his heart.

With the new her and her handcrafted cheese.

It was worth it, I declare.