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"Dad, dad! There's a monster in my closet!"

His eyes flung open, startled, having almost drifted off to sleep. But he heard his boy calling, and he knew he was needed. "But every single night?", sighed the father. "Why do I have to kill the same damn monster every single freaking night??"

As he opened the door and turned on the hallway light, his son was halfway under the covers, the blanket pulled over his face, with only his round frightened eyes peeping over the comforter. Seeing his father, he visibly relaxed and pulled down the sheets, revealing such a relieved and sweet smile, that the father once again remembered why he played this game, night in, night out. Just to see my son smile; I would do anything.

"Dad, I think the monster in the closet is trying to get out again."

"Really? Didn't I tell it last night it was to not bother you anymore?"

"Yeah, but I don't think it listens. It's a bad monster."

"Yes," agreed the father, "Bad monster indeed. I think I'll have to teach it a lesson."

With that, the father took two swift strides to the side of the closet, and thrusted the sliding door to one side. "Ah ha!" chortled the triumphant father. "With my powers of Beeboo, monster be gone!"

The kid smiled, beaming with glee and pride, knowing that his father had once again saved him from the bad monster. In fact, the monster was so afraid of the "powers of BeeBoo", that each time his dad opened the door, it would run away.

"Son," said dad. "I'm going to buy you a bell. Each time you get scared, just ring it, and if I don't come and rescue you, the bell will scare away anything bad. Okay?"

"Okay, daddy. Fanx. I love you." answered the kid.

"Me too kiddo," said the father, ruffling his kid's hair. "Now sleep. The monster won't be back."

The next day, the father took an hour off work, hunting for a bell. Finally, reaching a second hand/surplus store, he found one. An old style bell found in hotels, where you'd press the top with your hand to ring it to bring to attention of the concierge. "Not many shops uses these anymore. Cool. This will do nicely."

The father was happy with his purchase. Maybe it'll finally bring this "monster in the closet" business to an end once and for all.

That night, while tucking his kid into bed, the father showed him how to use the bell. "Lookit, kiddo. Just press the bell and I'll come running. But if I don't, press it again, and the monster will be scared off too. Remember, once for me, twice to scare off monster. Got it?"

"Yup." said the kid hessitantly. "Dad, will it really work?"

"Of course" answered the father confidently. "Because I've instilled the powers of Beeboo into the bell. That means when the monster hears two rings, he'll run for it, never to bother you again. Goodnight."

As soon as he closed the door to the kid's room, the bell rang. He opened the door. "What is it?"

"Notfing," shrugged the kid, eyes twinkling. "You forgot to give me a goodnight kiss."

"Oh," grinned the father sheepishly, leaning over and kissing him. "MMmmmm-ah. There, now goodnight."

"Night."

For the first time in a long while, the father could sleep without having to wake up. What bliss.

Next day, while sitting at work, the phone rang. He picked it up, it was the school. Something happened to his son, and he was to rush to the hospital right away. Slamming down the phone, he quickly told his cubicle mate that his son was in the hospital and he was leaving early. Grabbing his coat, he tore out of the building, towards his car.

When he got to the hospital, there was a doctor and the school's vice principal waiting just outside of the room. "What the hell happened? How's my son?"

The doctor spoke. "We did everything possible. We tried to recessitate him."..... the words then became garbled, catching sniplets like "head trauma", "hit and run", "internal hemorrhaging", and "no pulse on arrival."

The father stood for a brief second, back against the wall, then in one quick motion, slid onto the floor. He sat there, looking up, completely dumbfounded. Mouth moving but no words sounded. His lips quivered, his mind trying to wrap around the words he just heard. "No, this can't be. Not my son. Not my kid! NO!"

The next thing he knew, he was being helped up to his feet by the doctor, principal, and a nurse passing by. They were all asking him if he was all right. "Bloody hell. What a stupid thing to ask. My son just died from a jackass who ran a redlight. How can you even have the balls to ask if I'm all right?"

He stood up on his own, pushing the people away. He fought his way into the room. The doctor tried to warn him, but he was already inside. He saw his son's tiny foot sticking out of the bed sheet, mangled and bent in the most unnatural angle. His stomach lurched, and he heaved out his lunch. "This is too much, this is f-ing too much. My son, my poor, poor son."

He reminded himself that this was just a body, that his perfect little boy had gone to Heaven. Yet, he just had to see his child's angelic face one last time. The slight echo of the doctor's words "head trauma" pulsated faintly, but he ignored it. When he lifted back the sheet, the face was no longer recognizable. It was a pulp of red mess. He didn't flinch, nor did he retch. Instead he gently stroked his son's hair, and started crying. That was all he could do, stroke his blood soaked hair, and cry. He didn't move, he didn't sit, he just stood, crying and shaking his head.

That night, exhausted, the man laid in his bed. Too hurt to be tired, too tired to feel the ache in his heart. He stared at the ceiling, trying to both accept and deny what had happened just 5 hrs earlier. He wanted to cry still, but the tears no longer came. He was too spent to even produce tears. He wanted to die, thinking of perversed ways to end his life and join his son. There was nothing to live for, no one to care about. His life was meaningless now, why go on?

As he once more brought up the mental picture of his son smiling each time they did anything together, he heard a ding. Faintly at first, he thought that he was so exhausted, his mind was playing tricks on him. But as he shook his woolen feeling head, the ding had become a little more louder, more clearer, more instistant. Ding. Ding. Ding.

"What the....", thought the man. "This is crazy. I really must be hearing things."

He stilled his body and his breath. For what seemed like an eternity, there was nothing but silence. When he was sure that everything he's heard was imagined, he even almost smiled, chiding himself for being so stupid.

*D I N G*

The bell! The bell he had bought him. It rang. No!

He sprung up, and ripped the covers off. NO! My God, NO!

He raced out bed and ran to his son's room. The door was closed. He must have closed it when he got home earlier tonight. He listened. Silence. Nothing. Nudda. Zilcho.

*D I N G*

The unmistakeable sound of the bell rang. It was coming from the inside of the child's room. *D I N G*. One ring to call him, two to ward off the monster. NO! "I'm coming baby. Daddy will make it better." What was he saying? His son was dead, but he heard the bell! Ding

He opened the door, half-expecting to see his son in bed, the covers pulled up to his eyes, ringing the bell. But he wasn't there. In fact there was nothing, nothing but a neatly made, empty bed.

His eyes darted to the closet. Still closed. "The monster.... "

As if from a horror movie, the closet door slowly slid open. The father stood there, transfixed, terrified, his legs shaking. He wanted to run and scream; wanting to verbally deny what he was seeing with his own two eyes. "This can't be...." But the door kept sliding, revealing a dark crack, getting bigger at each frightening second.

Finally the door stopped sliding, and out came a shape of a child, half-crawled, half limped from the inside of the closet. The father was so scared that he pissed his pants, his mind screaming run, but his legs didn't respond.

The mess of blood and bone looked up, pointing to the father...."Dad, I rang the bell so many times, and you never came for me. Now it's too late...."

.....scary, no?





posted by losir at 6:53 AM

There are certain things I'll never understand. Like for instance: Why would you elect to wall yourself off from meeting potential friends? I just don't get it.

I mean, if you're the type of person who doesn't have many friends to begin with, why would you commit social hara kari by staying at home on a Friday night, at the beginning of a LONG weekend? Please, someone, tell me.

I'm reminded by Bette Midler singing "Glory of Love": You gotta win a little, lose a little....

See people, you have to take a chance and crawl out of your shell once in a while, and test the social waters. If you don't, you're never going to amount to much, because in this day and age, it's all about networking and communcation. The more contacts you make, the better your chances are to be happier in life, love and work. I don't mean you have to manipulate or leech off others, but good friendships go a long way, even if it's just for someone to hear you whine about your misfortunes. Sometimes that's all you need to dust yourself off and give it another go.

Kids, life's a party; and if you act like a hermit then you'll never be invited. Remember when you're 15, and there was that big huge strategically placed pimple that made you feel like Rudolf on Christmas Eve? Well, unless you overcome that trauma, your whole life will be one big puberty spurt, with nothing but awkward limbs and a seeming lack of hair gel and Oxy10. Have some self-confidence, heck, fake some. Whatever you do, don't show fear!

That's it, I'm done. Go out there and have fun. Try not to think you're inadequate (although you probably are....), throw yourself out to new people and act like you're greatful that you've met them, because in the long run, you just might.

....Deep inside, aren't we all just shy little kids playing grownup? posted by losir at 11:23 AM

Well, after 9500km, I had to change my rear tire. Things are not as easy as it seems.

Firstly, I don't have the necessary tools to remove the tire by myself, second, since I bought my tire from another store, I needed a way to have both the bike and the tire at Snow City.

I thought I'd have to drive my car to Snow, drop off my tire, drive home. Then drive my bike over and wait for the tire change. What a pain in the eye.

Well, the obvious solution was to carry my tire on my bike.... which as you've already seen, is exact what I've done. Please look at the second picture (taken from the rear). Note that I've used a sock to keep the tire from rubbing my bike's bodywork. I took a sock and taped it up to the wheel, so that none of the black rubber would rub off onto my tail section. Ain't I clever?? ^_^

The bungee net that I have also stretched amazingly far. I mean, it fit the circumference of the tire! I was impressed for sure.

Did I mention that there was a police car with officers at the end of my street who probably saw me carrying the thing, but didn't stop me? Yup. That got me nervous.

....forget necessity, it's laziness that's the mother-of-all inventions.

posted by losir at 2:07 PM

Fido Dido, Kawipilot, Helter Skelter, Yoyo(882), and I went out for a ride last night. Well, Yoyo had to go home early, so he wasn't really included in the festivities.

It's a real wonder that when you get 4 guys together on sportsbike, stupidness happens. I don't know who starts speeding, but it invariably turns into who can get from A to B quickest. It's not about the ride, it's not about the destination, it's about bragging rights.

I've been pretty calm this season. Sure I've had my spurt of excessive speed, but on the whole, with the horrendous gas prices these days, I just can't justify riding in first gear at ~110 km/h. So I've made a conscious decision to cruise more.

Well in a nutshell, bugger that idea. We certainly didn't cruise last night. (Disclaimer: We did not knowingly break the speed limit at anytime during the course of our ride.) But then again, I made an effort to not check my speedo. I know that ignorance is not a defence..... but um, I really wasn't speeding officer, I just passed some guy who was!

....Ask, and you shall receive, crank it, and you'll take it yourself. posted by losir at 11:33 AM

I've been thinking lots about traffic. Specifically, about traffic jams. Doesn't everyone wonder how they start, and why? Well I have, and here's my two Canadian cents. Which as we all know, ain't worth much these days. Then again, my thoughts ain't exactly precious gems either....

First, we must understand the driving behaviour pattern of the average Cager. (Cager, as you all remember, are poeple who sit in their car, believing that the structure, much like a cage, will protect them in an accident, come hither or nether.) Your average Cager doesn't understand physics, much less driving dynamics. For example, s/he only knows that the left peddle is to stop, and the right peddle is for go. What they don't understand is inertia, or the lack of it. When they see traffic up ahead begin to slow, and brake lights begin to appear on the cars ahead, our Cager will go: "Hmmm, traffic up ahead beginning to slow, the left peddle is to slow/stop, I should use that now."; thus, applying brakes. Of course, the Cager behind him/her will also brake, and so on, so forth, until everyone is slowing down to a crawl. This creating a traffic slowdown, leading to a jam.

Toronto city traffic, much like any other metropolis, is frought with tailgaters and hurry-uppers. They love to dart in and out of traffic like they were in an Indy race, lapping slower drivers. I mean, I know everyone's in a rush, and even I have darted in and out on the odd occasion (actually I rarely do it in my car, only on my bike, b/c I can manuveur/brake/accelerate so much better), but sometimes, it's not worth the risk to save an extra 5 minutes. Of course, if you needed to use the washroom badly, I can certainly sympathize.

Whatever, the reason is, these drivers causes slow downs. Remember, the average Cager uses his/her brakes at the slightest provocation, and if these Indy wannabes dart in and out, the Cager will panic and exercise their right to slow down.

What we have to teach these inept Cager is the theory of inertia. When you release the "gas" peddle, the car does NOT keep moving at the same rate. (Cruise control notwithstanding) Infact, when you lift your foot off the go peddle, it actually begins to slow by itself. Hark, can you believe it? Yes you can!

What I'm saying is this. As long as you're not following too close, you don't need to use your brakes to slow down. Let off the gas. Yes, that's it simple.
This will actually alleviate some of the traffic congestion caused by your insistance on slamming on the brakes each time you need to slow down a little. That brake light is a warning, it's telling other cagers you need to slow enough that there's a chance you have to stop. But a lot of the times, if you're not tailgating, and you have enough space between cars, you can actually let your foot off the gas, cruise, and then keep going, all without braking! So look far ahead, and judge traffic movement. If way up ahead, the cars have stopped dead, then chances are you may need to as well. Slow down early, but without braking. There's a chance that you can actually maintain momentum, so that when you get up to the troubled spot, it be clear enough for you to go. I know that you can't avoid braking all the time, but you can avoid braking EVERY time. So learn it!

I've been experimenting with this technique, and it works like a charm. Yes, I'm moving at a snail's pace, but at least I'm still moving. Psychologically speaking, it is much more refreshing to be moving a little at a constant rate, than pure stop and go traffic. At least for me, this is true. I know that our roadways aren't plentiful enough to accomodate all these vehicles on the road at once, and there's no way to solve traffic jams, save building so many roadways that it exceeds volume. If your highways are anything like Toronto's, there's always going to be "trouble" spots, where 2 highways merge into 1, etc. But on the whole, it is people who apply their brakes prematurely that starts the slowing down of traffic. We're a lot like lemmings, following one car in front of the next. Monkey see, monkey do. That type of thing.

Get your foot of the gas and learn to judge distance. Don't rely on just your brakes. If you want to get home at a timely fashion, learn to help your fellow Cager drive better by not making them panic and letting them hit the brakes too often. If you follow this one simple little rule, I assure you, you'll feel better about yourself and your commute home. Give a whirl, and let me know if I'm right....

....Of course, cutting in and out of traffic can be kinda fun.
posted by losir at 11:42 AM

Glorious Monday morning. My mood was darker than black coffee left to rot overnight in an unscrubbed cauldron.

My day began at 8:55am. I woke up with a jolt, not realizing what time it was. I had forgotten to set my alarm the night before. Thank goodness I no longer sit in front of my boss' office, so I can afford to be a tad late.

When it was all said and done, I was at work by 9:45am. I saw my fellow riding buddies, Kawipilot and Helter Skelter; and we chatted until 10am. Whoops. An hour late. The shame.... During which time we found out a new rider who also works for the Company, had crashed his bike earlier in the month. Ouch. Hope you okay, Mr.NV!

I went to my cube, ready to do some real work. I noticed how eerily quiet my area was. Looking around, there wasn't a soul at work. Could I be the only one in today? Was everyone that late? Oh ssss-hut your mouth, I forgot, it's 10am. I had a townhall style meeting today with the new VP. I double-timed it down the stairs, barely making it in before he started speaking.

Yada Yada, we're great, but we can do better. I laughed inwardly. I know I can do better, but I can't say for the others that I know are pulling their weight. I don't think people were happy with that.

Okay, like you care about my work. Anyhow, I'm kinda busy now, so I better get back to it. posted by losir at 4:20 PM

Sorry for the lack of updates. I didn't have access to an internet connection.... That and even if I did, I was too lazy anyhow.

Let's see what you've missed:

Saturday morning. Nice hangover, thanks Wilco for giving me a splitting headache Saturday morn, each time we hang out, beer seems to be our best friends. I was totally dehydrated too, since I didn't drink any water before going to bed. Thank goodness I had the mind to stop at the local convinience store and buy 2 jugs of Powerade or whatever it's called. Good stuff for hangovers apparantly. Actually I dunno, but it seemed to have done the trick. I guess any liquids could have hydrated me, as long as it wasn't anymore liquor.

My alcohol tolerance level has dipped dramatically (I only had 4 beers). Then again, my beer gut is also shrinking fast. So it's a good tradeoff I guess.

Oh, here's an advertising bit for Parker Bros. Power Sport. I just bought a set (front and rear) of Michelin Pilot Sport tires from them for my 929. Cost me $414+tax. Came out to $471 and change. You might be cringing and go "Ouch, you got ripped off." But bear in mind 2 things. 1) The nearest quotes any other shop gave me was $275 (CAD) for only the rear tire. 2) Shipping from the States, the exchange rates was already $222 (CAD). Add in the duty (average 13%), cost of shipping ($9.95 US + UPS/FedEx $30 CAD), etc, I actually bought it cheaper locally. The orginal quote for 1 rear tire was $273 from Parker Bros. With a little haggling, I got it down to $235, the front was only $137 more. I also should mention that arguably, the Michlen Pilot Sports provide the best feel and grip when mated with my CBR929. Sure it takes a little longer to warm up.... But still, Honda choose to ship with the Pilot Sports. So it can't totally suck, can it? And yes, I happen to like the Pilot Sports, thank you very much.

This goes to show that motorcycling is NOT a cheap sport. Anyone who says so doesn't ride hard enough. I've been pretty gentle though, as my set of tires lasted almost 9500km before the worn out marks appeared. That's not too extreme really, but I only took it on the track once, and I didn't do many burnouts. On average, it lasted pretty good. At least one full season.

I had several topics which I wanted to write about, but they're all lost on me right now. Maybe when I get to work tomorrow, I'll remember. In the meantime....

....Keep your feet on the pegs and your right hand cranked. posted by losir at 12:21 AM