A Fool and His Money are Soon Parted

A Fool and His Money are Soon Parted

It was Christmas time again! The air was chilly and had that uplifting mood that would want you to get in on all the fun. People were running around the streets, bustling and hustling and there was that tone of happiness that rang around every corner of every home. Amidst all the noise, you could hear the faint chattering of families who were busy making last minute preparations to their feasts. The lights were up, and the trees were adorned with numerous flashing lights and shiny balls. There was no doubting it. Once again, it was “that” time of the year.

Let me to give you a brief history. Many many years ago, a Savior was supposedly born on this day. Many many years later, people would forget what really happened on that day, yet persist on the grand celebrations and festivities that they oh, so enjoy.

And then there was me, peering out the window to catch a glimpse of the quickly turning world outside the walls of my home. Occasionally, I would turn to the door and greet another one of my relatives, some even from the farthest leaves of the farthest branch of our family tree. Some of who have even traversed great distances and braved harsh weather just to come to our place to partake in our annual celebrations. But I couldn’t blame them. It was part of our family tradition. It started many years back when my great-great-grandfather supposedly had to fight off a “zombie” in the middle of a thunderstorm just to make it in time for dessert. Needless to mention of how he supposedly had to cross a mountain hopping on one leg because a tiger bit off his right foot while he was climbing said mountain. But personally, I’d say the whole story was just a hoax or got lost in translation (my great-great-grandfather had brain damage and spoke in his own language; my older relatives who were there personally assumed/translated from his hand gestures) Anyway, end result, no excuse will be tolerated. Those who fail to comply would be temporarily “disowned”. How I pity my great-grandmother who is on her deathbed suffering from stage four cancer.

It was half past eleven when everyone gathered around the tree waiting for the clock to strike twelve and make a mad dash at the numerous gifts just waiting to be opened - another family tradition, and one that I had never been a fan of partaking. Well, at least not until we got magically reunited with our “long-lost family” from a supposed distant rather brawny and athletic branch resembling quarterbacks who bore no resemblance at all from the rest of us. I once had an aunt who loved this family tradition. Yes, I had.

The real highlight for me is the giving of angpaos. Angpaos are little red bags filled with money. They come from the Chinese word “ang” meaning red and “pao” meaning bag. Legend has it that these bags fell off Santa’s sleigh around the time he was having an affair with the Tooth Fairy. But that’s just some crazy fantasy that I can’t believe parents tell their children who are less than six years of age.

Now, there are three things I like about angpaos and one that I hate. The first thing I like is, well, they have money in them. And thanks to my family’s generous side and scary traditions, they must all contain around five thousand. Something about a demon doorlord suddenly appearing out of nowhere to take all the money of whoever gives less than that amount, brought about that idea. The second thing I like is that my family tree has got a lot of leaves, and because of that, we get a lot of green…if-you-know-what-I-metaphorically-mean. The third thing I like is the grace and dignity of the entire process of giving angpaos. They are distributed in a more civilized manner than that of the gifts. No elbowing and tackling and all that other hip-dislocating stuff that my aunt had to go through… Angpaos would have been perfect, if it weren’t for that one last thing.

Thing is, I am turning 18 on Christmas day. My birthday just doesn’t get celebrated as much because of the fact that my birthdays are about me and Christmas celebrations are about everyone. Frankly, everyone else in the family also wants to be important. Now, the sad part about me turning eighteen is that, by next year, I am considered of age and am no longer entitled an angpao but am instead obliged to give angpaos to the younger children – lest I want some distant relative of mine to dress up as a doorlord and come at me from nowhere and steal all my money. In short, this was my last chance, and I wanted to make it count. I was determined to save up as much as I can and work very hard for a whole year. That, or I could just slaughter the rest of the kids so that I didn’t have to give them any money. Well, that just wasn’t an option at the moment.

Surprisingly, one of my uncles suddenly walked up to me and said, “Hey, aren’t you turning eighteen now?” Quite nervously, I replied with a plain yes, but my uncle then proceeded to announce it to everyone, shouting, “Hey guys, She is turning 18 tomorrow, let’s bring her up front and have her do the “ritual”!”

Everyone else then suddenly cheered with my uncle and they all nudged me forward to the center of the room where there was the biggest bottle of champagne I have ever seen. So big, that when you pop the cork open, it could rival a cannon in sheer force and sound.

As a sign of my coming of age, I was to finish the whole bottle in one drinking. A tradition that I am very sure did not come from some family legend but merely came about due to the vice of most of the members of my family. I wasn’t too worried though. Okay, so I am. There was no way I could ever finish that thing without bursting my bladder a couple of dozen times. Not to mention replacing my liver a couple of hundred times. But I guess that’s just the thing, no one but my great-uncle Barry finished the whole bottle. Sadly, he died just a few days after. So the tradition was pretty much changed to drink until you pass out at which point the rest of the family members would finish the rest of it. I could just pretend as though I were to pass out after a couple of sips and my problem would be solved.

I had a little help from my uncles and they lifted the huge end of the bottle, slowly tilting the end so I could gulp down champagne. I take my few couple of sips and then BAM! Some new feeling suddenly overwhelms me. I wasn’t sure if it was the taste or just something about the really crazy night. But foolishly, I decided to take just a few more gulps. And then a couple more. And before I knew it, I was chugging down the whole bottle until the very last drop. My family members were probably cheering wildly. But I didn’t care. All that mattered was that newfound wonder, that exquisite taste, and the heavy smell of that champagne. And before I knew it, it was over. The whole bottle was finished, and then I blacked out.

I woke up a couple of hours later, lying flat on the floor, and I had the most wonderful feeling in my body. I was like floating in the air with soft melodious music playing in the background. Everything looked of cotton candy and of clouds. The sky was pink, and I felt as though I could move effortlessly through the air, gliding gently yet quickly across the streets, my feet never once even having to touch the ground. I am guessing right now that I was not sober yet at that time. But at that time, how was I supposed to know?

I passed shop after shop and I was whizzing past everybody very quickly yet with a slow motion effect. Cars were probably skidding off their lanes trying to avoid me, but for me, everything looked so peaceful with fluffy white clouds and a harp playing indistinctly in the background. I floated into a mall and looked at shop after shop, admiring the displayed items when all of a sudden, one of them talked to me.

He seemed very small at first, but I could have sworn he began to grow in size from what seemed to be able to fit in the palm of my hand to about the size of an average person. “Come buy me!” he said. “What?” I replied. “Come buy me!” he repeated, “I’ve got all the latest stuff, not to mention, all the coolest apps!” “You can talk..” I replied, rather mesmerized. “I’m Siri!” He said with a laugh, “..and I want to be your friend!” “Well, all right. I guess we could be friends.” I replied. “You have to buy be!” he said with a smile. “But, how? I haven’t got money.” “Don’t be silly! Those red bags in your pockets should suffice!” “Oh, um, alright. Here, you can have them.” “Yay! I just know we’ll be great friends!”

I handed all the red bags to what seemed like a vending machine at that time and it let Siri out of the glass case it had previously been stored in. I felt a sudden chill all over my body, as thought I was forgetting something, and I looked around to see if someone was watching me. When I turned back, I couldn’t find Siri. He was nowhere to be found. But when I looked down at my hands, I was holding a box. It wasn’t that big a box and was more of a plastic container. It felt kind of cold and smooth. Then all of a sudden I began to feel very hot. Everything was starting to get back to me. I was no longer suspended in midair, the clouds were all gone, and the sky was grey. All the noise suddenly struck me, people talking with each other, cars passing by, honking loudly. I began to realize how far I was from home. Walking towards the street, I called a taxi and gave him my address.

After some time, I was finally back home. I still felt very hot and my head was hurting. I felt very weak and wobbly. The cab driver gave me my bill, a rather costly sum, but nothing my angpaos couldn’t handle. I reached into my pocket and felt around, trying to find my money. I was able to pull out some pieces of torn red envelopes but I couldn’t find any money. I was shocked and was in disbelief. I kept searching frantically but I couldn’t find anything. Fortunately, my mom ran out the front door to come fetch me. Turns out, they were all very worried on how I suddenly ran out of the door after gulping every last drop of the champagne. She paid the cab driver and she helped me walk up the front steps.

To this day, I am still unsure of what really happened that day. All I know is that when I got back home, I had a new iPhone and that all the money I was planning to save up were gone.