The Imperials

Prince Faakhir

It was narrated from 'Abdullah ibn 'Amr that the Prophet (blessings and peace of Allah be upon him) said: "There are four characteristics, whoever has them all is a pure hypocrite, and whoever has one of them has one of the characteristics of hypocrisy, until he gives it up: when he makes a covenant he betrays it, when he speaks he lies, when he makes a promise he breaks it, and when he disputes he resorts to obscene speech."

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Umme Qulsum POV:

"Boys, behave yourselves!" My brother lectured as he drove the car furiously with his brows furrowed on the lane ahead of him. "I don't want to hear a single complaint from anyone. If one of you ends up in jail, I'm not rescuing you. Especially you Musa!"

"Pish posh, jail isn't that bad as you make it sound dad." Musa answered defiantly, leaning back on the back rest of his seat. "They have good quality food, and they'll even let me see your face if I want to."

"Yeah, electronically!" Harun snickered under his breath. 

"Oh, you shut up!" Musa snapped with a frown. "You haven't even there."

"Back at you--" Harun retorted. 

"Musa," My brother yelled, keeping his eyes angrily fixed on the road ahead of him. "I will not come to see you. All I said is behave yourself when I drop you off at the palace. Harun, make sure he does. Do not crush my reputation, understood?"

"Allahu a'lam (Allah knows best), no promises." Musa boasted.

"What did you just say?" My brother shrieked, aggressively grabbing the empty plastic water bottle on the cup holder beside him and flinging it back towards Musa's direction. "What do you mean Allahu A'lam, Allah has given us the ability to control ourselves?"

"You missed dad!" Musa laughed. "Whatever Allah had written for my destiny in the book is is as it is. The ink has already been dried. So, if there are mishaps, don't look at me. Look at Harun--

"Woah, where the hell did I come from?" Harun snapped. 

"Uh... We learned this in science. Mama's stomach!"

Harun facepalmed himself, while my brother flung another empty paper coffee cup towards Musa's direction from the layers of trash laying around on the floor of his car. For the record, my brother Huzaifah was the messiest man in the world. Even the small space of his car was laminated with all variations of recyclings from paper cups, magazines to plastic bottles, and whatnot. No wonder his wife never wanted to ride the same car with him!

"Missed again dad!" Musa easily dodged the paper cup as it hit the back window instead, stumbling lifelessly on the back seat.

"I can't do this Musa! Umme Q, take over and throw something at him, make sure you don't miss him this time. I'm currently busy driving and I shall not be disturbed." My brother ordered.

"Sure, no problem!" I answered with confusion, glaring at the trash bin of a car I was sitting in. "So... uh, what should I fling at him?" I quizically scoured through the layers of garbage and picked up one of the essay papers laying on the floor amongst other recycling objects, preparing to crumple it.

"Nooo," Huzaifah cried, grabbing it out of my hand. "Don't pick up the papers like that, their my researches for work. They're life's hard work. They're gems!"

"Then why the hell are they laying around?"

"Ugh, kids like you won't understand. Throw something else at the dumbhead Musa!"

"The magazines?"

"No!"

"The coffee cups?"

"No, they could be reused again. Are you insane? You know what, don't even touch anything in this car!"