Foreword: Story of Bettina’s insane psycho-super mum. All about feng shui, tarot divinations, weekly furniture re-arrangements, meditations, chants and curses.

Bettina can stand neither her mum, nor her new-found boyfriend.

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Hi. Hullo everyone. I am Bettina Adams, or Betti or Tina or Nana (that’s what mum calls me.)

I live with mum. Just the two of us, in our quaint tiny house perched on the far end of Bourgeoisie Lane. Mum is constantly cursing Daddy, telling me I should never acknowledge him or she would practice her most deadly spells on me. Well, what really happened between my parents and their whirlwind romance, I am really clueless. Mum only claims that Daddy (or Dad?), left with a supposedly younger, sexier blonde who will bring upon his early death, as soon as I was born. He is supposed to be an irresponsible jerk in my mind. I am supposed to hate him.

However, now that I’m already 17, it doesn’t really bother me anymore.

Well, Mum is not unattractive, if you consider her brilliant hazel eyes, which sparkles sometimes under the sun, and her full pouty ruby lips, almost kissable. And her figure never whispered that she had given birth, to me.

However, Mum is not normal. She worries me sometimes. Other times, she just frightens me- her gothic personality, speaking in weird languages like Arabian, preoccupation with feng shui, good luck charms she claims to connect with her psychic realm, and worse, she orders me to walk or sleep in awkward positions sometimes, in order not to mess up with my aura.

I cringe whenever I recall how I had to attempt on an arduous humiliating journey to school last month, wearing purple from head-to-toe and having to venture in the North-Easterly direction because I had a ‘dangerous green aura’ hovering above me. I felt like a total brinjal. I was just lucky I didn’t get smashed to nothingness, walking in the crazy traffic like that.

Even my house is..quaint. Painting of werewolves, corpses, rigor mortis, evil symbols and pagans. Can anyone ever imagine how they torment and twist with my imagination everyday? Asphyxiated with fear, I tremble madly even when I sleep sometimes.

Thank god I had my Visha, my best friend. A Black Persian Cat with piercing eyes.

I can’t stand her anymore, she is a total freak. But I always tell myself she’s my only kin. So I tolerate.tolerate.tolerate.

As I gradually accepted my fate, I found out a strangest thing. Completely ironic. Mum seems to be changing. She started to feel, or even, look more normal, not weirder.

Her thick kohl liners were replaced by pearly eyeshadows, and in shades I vow I would never expect her to use! Like pearly pink, turquoise, shimmering stunning green. I am really not too paranoid. If you all understand colours were something devoid of in her life.

Next is her wardrobe, her normally eccentric dressing of long black shapeless robes and occasional yoga outfit had been taken over by feminine blouse, V-necks and I still cannot believe my eyes, when I saw her leaving home in an absolutely stunning slinky violet empire-waist gown, hair in a slinky chignon and face all made-up, the other day. Also, she never wore stilettos. Not to mention 3 inches.

Something seriously was not right. I decided to investigate.

I planned carefully. A Thursday would be perfect, because she had ayurveda yoga class- something which she attends religiously. Tonight spells my absolute perfect chance!

I waited patiently till the door shut with a firm bang, and I ventured to her room, heart in my mouth. It was the place I was always afraid of, for she had incenses and statues and scary things inside. But, my burning curiosity edged me closer and closer, and in I went.

I found her diary and discovered that she had a boyfriend. I had to breathe really hard to stop myself from hyperventilating. For this man was utterly disgusting.

His name was Terry Gordons Lo Hei. All I can say is, he’s stinky and pot-bellied. It was plain horror when I saw something stuck on mum’s mirror- a picture of him, with his greasy tuft of balding hair and exploding face, kissing my mum!! I didn’t know what came over me, but can only recall muttering some chants I couldn’t have known and passed out.

Terry Gordons was found dead a week after. He died in his bathtub. Nobody knows how he died. But, a Black cat was found lurking around his apartment before his death.

~end ~