Some guy called my mom at the office today, talked in a very low voice. Sounds young, and sounds like me.

Mom just said, "hello, who's there?" and after a brief moment of silence, the guy just broke out crying. Pathetic.

"Ma, I got caught and they beat me up, you gotta save me!" he implored. In mandarin.

Mom got worried, she thought that I was in trouble, probably at the mercy of uncouth Hokkien degenerates.

The tears and the crying and desperation sounds very real, very practised.

"Where are you now?"

The crying did not stop, no coherent answer.

Major flaw there, for she knew that I rarely used mandarin back at home. Nor would I cry so hard if I got beaten up or captured.

"Now tell me, what's your name?"

More crying, probably a few choked sobs in between-gotta keep it real ya know.

"C'mon, tell me your name and where you are."

He told her that he couldn't, for they would beat him up again if he did. Hm, how odd. I thought real kidnappers would want to encourage that, since bits and pieces of genuine information dropped here and there would really give the general impression that someone is really in trouble, even if it may or may not be me she's talking to.

She passed the phone to my aunt, and called me through her cell. She wouldn't explain much then, and just told me not to leave the house for the moment.

My aunt, on the other hand, continued to grill the fella, but after two more attempts at getting him to tell his name and location, he hung up. That left them feeling slightly panicky. The office phone did not have the ability to record incoming numbers.

They later figured out that there had been similar incidents happening throughout the country. The papers did a cycle on it not too many editions ago. Apparently, it ran most rampant throughout the Peninsular, with stories about Hokkien and Cantonese speaking mothers suddenly had their children calling for help and ransom money in Mandarin. All lies.

Now, it seems that they grew enough balls and prepaid credit to phone random numbers in Sabah. They must have thought that wired cash is much easier to handle than loot dropped at designated rubbish bins. Maybe the shorter phone numbers doesn't tire up their dirty fingers as much as those longer KL ones.

Now that this thing had reached my ears, I must say, I don't know what kind of appropriate feelings should I really have now. These days, my temper ain't so great, ya know.

But know this, by antagonizing my family, threatening them with the suffering and possible lost of their kin, and aiming for money and benefits surrendered not by honest means, but through that of grief, fear and tears, you now made yourself a new enemy.

Know this very well, if I ever found out who you are, you better hope that your prayers are well rehearsed by heart, for I will not let you go, nor will I forgive this trespass and fakery.

I care not if there's just one of you or a legion. If you would to show as much as just an inch of your foul tail again in my life, I'll hunt you down.

Oh, by the way, if you can still dream, you better dream about me. Yes, me, in front of you, smiling, and you might even like it. It all depends on you, you see. Now, look closer, at my hands, or better yet, my fingers, at least three inches in your scamming neck. For me, I'd like it better if you would just look at your own face changing colours with dramatic effect, with your body using up whatever little air that's still left in your lungs. Sometimes, it's like one of those things that bite but doesn't really draw blood nor holes. Hehe.

Labels: crime, impostor, real life, scam