The Next Level

Yes, it had a catalytic effect on the way I saw things. You know, I am trained to believe anything I want is stupid, unless it goes with my father’s ideologies. One of the downsides of having a father, I suppose.

There were drops of ashen blood falling on the ground as he approached me. The dame by my side was oblivious to his presence, sipping away a Screw Driver, tugging at the leg of a roasted chicken.

His lips curled and smiled a smile. Of knowing. Of knowing something I didn't. One that gave the impression he is a higher-order being.

“Amongst my greatest worries right now is hair fall. Yes, you heard that correct. Hair curled into the teeth of combs, into the bristles of brushes.

Everywhere.

This is like one of those phantom scares.

There’s always a remedy.

Wigs.

I’ll die before I get myself one”

And she dug deep into the chicken.

The lady you are pleasing
is looking hungry and cold
Don't look in her eyes
You'll see what you've sewn.

Memorandum of Understanding

Minnie and Growler have been given away, to Commando Dog House.
Last week Growler had jumped into a neighbor's well. And refused to come out. People gathered around, threw down a log tied at the end of a rope. But he refused to budge. The water was only up to his knee-level, I hear. Eventually they managed to pull him up. And pasted our dogs' temporary caretakers with a compensation fine of 3000 INR. And the dogs' temporary caretakers, located in Kollam, cried out to us, saying they could take it no more; that these weren't normal dogs as they had expected them to be. Hence, they journeyed on our Scorpio back to Trivandum. Now, they can't stay here at our place cause of the wolf-howls.
These used to happen around 1am every night. One of them start off, the other catches on and then they raise their pitch and reach a resonant frequency. This gives my creator sleepless nights. The guy becomes neurotic, tapping our windows in the hope that the dogs will hear the rattle and keep quiet. Little does he know that the creatures are lost;  lost in the creation of a beautiful music perhaps only either of them can appreciate. My other creator, when she loses her patience, gets up, goes down to the kitchen and tries talking some sense onto them. She goes through the good cop-bad cop routine. In the end, she resorts to a more universal language. Throws a bucket of cold water onto them. This seems to quieten them up. It amazes me why the dogs never caught a cold when they were here. Maybe I was too busy with my own.
So, my brother gives them to Commando Dog House. He signs an MoU with the Commando Dog House authorities that says he is never to come back and inquire about them or talk to them henceforth. Frankly, I don't think I'll recognize them among a pack of naadan dogs. He makes a one time payment of 4000INR to them in the hope that they'll be getting Chicken Biriyanis every alternate day. And he leaves the premises, paying off our guilt, letting Commando Dog House do the dirty work for us.    

Une Femme Fatale

There is an eligible dame. The right frame, the right posture and flipping the pages of the right book. She stands by the shelf to my right. I hold my book higher hoping she’d catch a glimpse of what I’m reading and come down and talk to me and go out for a coffee, fall in love with me and call me in the night in a hushed, moist voice to tell me she feels thirsty whenever she is horny and I’ll get to fuck her afterwards.

But sadly enough, she has a deep, manly voice.

The second wave

To you, the one in strife; lost
in the deeds of the past; lost
in the deeds of the past; lost
in the deeds of the past.......

Keep fighting
Keep fighting lest we die.
Everything is futile.
Nothing is futile.
Accept the duality.  

The Sound of Poo(p)

I am able to secure the latch just in time and seat my rear on the seat. Not that not securing would matter much, I am in my house and there is nobody around. Anyway, let’s give it a few moments before I start telling you about the whole thing.

One.

When people talk about the future, they usually talk about apocalypse. And chaos. And wars. The game I finished playing recently had its premise in that in the future there will only be private military corporations (PMCs, as they have it), where each private company/entity will have their own trained armed personnel…..

Two.

….And these armies will wage war against each other. Countries are no longer relevant it seems. They will break down as people start alienating (repercussion of technological advancement I guess). Alienation brings apathy, which brings an absence of fraternity. This breaks down that very glue that holds them together….. 

Three.

…..But what if? What if in the future, there is nothing. There is no fighting, no war, no chaos. What if people get too bored to do all that. It's too petty and time consuming, they'll reason. Unwanted physical torture, they'll say. Perhaps it will all be played out in the head. Everything becomes minimalist. Conversations, Speeches and the sort. People might exchange words, at the most threatening words. There will be that undercurrent of threat in these exchanges. But nobody does anything. Dormancy. Until there comes a point when someone snaps….

Thud.Or Splash.

I don’t know how to describe the sound of Poop. Least of my worries, though. Now, to the matter I wanted to tell you--                                                                      

Sex

is 3-D interactive porn with sensors installed.

Geekdom.
Martyrdom.

Deep Water Sea Diving

You give up something for something

for some its worth it, for some its not

some know it right away, some take the plunge

and validate their knowledge 

or rue.

10/10

If bodybuilding were about building shapes, I shall be up there.
One regular semi-circle coming through

180 mL

I had 180 mL
waiting.
I used it on a show.
All that is left is the title;
To be inked
and forgotten.