Sunday, October 10, 2010

The Confession of a Murderer

It was a Sunday morning. The sun was shining high up in the sky, mercilessly scorching every exposed being. There was no chirping birds, not a hint of breeze. The dogs were lazing under the shades, oblivious to the fighting cats in the backstreet. It was a huge neighbourhood, full with selfish city dwellers. Where there are humans, there are tales, brewing. Every turn of corner brings another story, perhaps a boring one, perhaps not. One of such, or rather, a confession, is to be told, by the very murderer.

In the house, among hundreds other, loud music was blasting out from one small room. The vocalist of Paramore was screaming at the top of her lungs. The curtain blocked the sunlight from streaming in through the room's only window, but there was the fluorescent light. In huge contrast to the weather outside, the room was cold at a perfect temperature that one would never want to leave to venture into the roasting oven. It was a simple room, with a wardrobe, a bed, a medium-size mirror, a big white table, rack full of books and files, a fridge and a microwave. A standing fan was left forgotten in the corner. The story began with a crave for popcorn. To be specific, a crave for caramel popcorn. Making popcorn is easy. You grab some popcorn kernels, throw it into a microwave bowl, add in a little oil, cover the bowl and start heating up at high power. Then you wait. For a minute or so, the heat will slowly build up. Then, one by one, the kernels start to pop, accompanied by the wonderful popping sounds, simply music from heaven. Not long after the birth of the first popcorn, the mouth-watering smell of popcorn starts to fill the room. If you don't watch it, it would then turn into the less than appealing burnt smell. Still edible though. When the kernels have done transforming, take the bowl out. It should take less then 5 minutes. You would want to use mittens or a piece of cloth, because the bowl would be blistering hot. With the popcorn done, the next and the last thing to work on is the caramel. (of course, this is the lazy-bug version. The proper way includes coating the popcorn evenly with caramel, then baking it for an hour) Caramel is the melted and browned sugar. Contrary to the simple definition, making caramel is highly dangerous, requiring patience and experience, as it gets burnt easily. A trip to the loo is all it takes to pronounce it a disaster. According to the almighty World Wide Web, what you need to do is to heat up the sugar first, stirring frequently, till it turns brown. Then you need to add in water to dissolve it to the perfect consistency.

Well you might wonder, what does making caramel popcorn have to do with the murder? It most certainly was not the murdering of popcorn. You see, things usually happened at the most unexpected moment. (because if it's expected, then it would have been prevented, thus not 'happened'.) The last step of the whole process, the seemingly harmless act of adding the water, made all the difference. Regardless of the tempered glass, certified microwave-safe, the lid of the microwave bowl (which I used to heat the sugar) cracked at the contact of cold water and the extreme heat of the glass. Just like that. Just like that. It left me gawking, for a couple of seconds. And to top it off, the caramel was burnt.
Much effort for nothing.



Bonus:
The eulogy
The lid, it had served well, it did. Throughout the years, regardless of storms and thunders, it had never failed, surviving through the endless abuse, delivering gourmets and failed attempts. To perish when it was about to make a historical point is most regretted indeed. Rest in peace, and rest assured that, in years to come, you will always be in my heart. No matter how many lids that I shall break in the future, you will always be my number one.

by
The Murderer