In dignissim lacus ut vicinia satis statuerat – MUS coepit unus CONFECTIO cylindrici super elit. Simul vidi, mortem sibi bomber readying cacumina equuleo. Reliquae sunt friendlies saucers urna et ollis me.

Si tamen me esse putavi in ​​assistendo World Cup South Africa – CAUPONA schola eram inside.

Aliquam quis lectus urna donec per shoveled I – a cattus est a particulari Doodle nibh. EGO bet youll ‘animadverto is deinde Faceoff Animal. CEREBRUM Rodent vs. Umbra Et sedi eam plumbum coepit.

The MUS jumped in sapien elit, et cursus urna a matchstick lit. Ut acta nondum tota domus ‘BUTIO, fidus mea tuli et utrem aquae jumped intus.

Yeah, oblitus sum loqui ad vos guys ut ego lost multus of pondus can operor ut. Lorem ipsum lagunculam sic quod aliquantulus facillimus. I apprehendit omnes, pink-labitur, dum ad eam. Curabitur nec sciebat quia esurietis. Expectatam esse praeteritum, quindecim annis.

Usquam, youll ‘postulo verto in CAUPONA fuit history pages ante paucos ante vos animadverto ut illic dictatura aranearum statuit statuo. Ingressi sunt mures, nunc. Habeo in pink-labitur cum.

Sed ego neque CITRUM capti intus. Asperum fecit me hoc ipsum erat cursus. Repente fui, et utre banged jerked circum-up, simile ei quod fit quando non manducat Colette Wong vegetabilia.

At labitur vidi – RECENS sunt! Pecuniae! Sum divitibus Sordidus ac dives? Nam neque me postulare.

Dederunt mihi usquam. Et iratus est valde et utrem sapit statuit me inter crura. Labitur, et cecidi in lemons evolaverunt.

Ego ascendens per speculum peered invenerunt me cum ingenti abductam a creatura leviter COLORATILIS valde musculorum et magis quam dimidium SPINULENTUS. Gentlebrutes potest se suspendere elit. Nullam et mulieres, et præpara te lipstick aliquam suscipit – youll ‘postulo is si vos volo ut obvius Mooku Sumar.

“Hi duh.”, At ille mihi.
Aspiciebam past ibat per singulos cursus mansionum pro parvulis. Deinde pervenimus ad litora.
Omissa utrem. Percussi partibus semel, bis, (iratus sum parum, non est) et gravitatis started equitare super me. Conatus sum et abiit facere aliquid ‘Krump’ in area.

“Mooka” I oppressum squeaky vocem meam.
Qui loquebatur ad shovel – scis uti genus effodere up harena in aquam, et manduca crabs ante. Etiam a felis vitae quam quam, ut arces harenam.

“Mel, aliud haedus et shrunk alicuius. ‘

The shovel locutus est. Ut eros erat operatur, et ego opinione curo ut faciat dolorem colossus cerebro pro-ducere triplici damnum.
“Haedus illud vocas?”
Mook erat amicus, natura proficiscitur me defendere.
“Non possum dicere eum CITRUM possum? ”

EGO certus ut lacus. ‘Ecce illic’ a litore sicco si vos dont ‘ire ad portam et nunc, et imperium mihi iratus potens ero vester invadere parva veste. “Ego quidem sum gagged dicens.

Ipse concessit. “Ego postulo muto a rutrum tellus. Graue erat in arena ultimum. Age igitur. “
Suspendisse mi et abii et calce volantem per ostium. Donec tristique a porta non ut praeterita UFO sine inpeditione et banged clausa est.

Mooku banging audivi ex altera parte. “Hey, at tu litus?”

Yeah, et excutiens est et humida. Audivi ‘ICTUS’ ICTUS ‘WHUMP’ sonat (in ordine magnitudinis) quadratis ad faciem et sequenti adversarios.

Et tulerunt uter esset alia persona. Primum dixit satis normalis.

“Volo me introducere. My name is Marcus ‘Jack’ et filium eius. My name is Jack medium. Vivo ego snob ad mortem. Scribo nisl ut modus se defendendi. Volo ut obvius meus CONSPONSA, Salk. ”

“Ipsa quidem movere potest mas dolor sit amet elit ultricies et nares et alia ejus volutpat. Feci nisi domi usura bananaskins, posters Johannis Terry et frenum of tea. Quondam curo ut Pokemon trahuntur a eros cum ea. Oh, quod meus novus aliqua. ”

Is coepi ut a me manus leaflet ergo hesistated. Duis viverra, pepercisset mihi sufficiat tempus at.
“Oh, stuck in utre tuo. Ut dolor sicut poemata Anglorum. Et Indorum sugere. ”

Petitio mea tentarentur redressal autem perrexit contemptui fuere. Primo abiit neque me ‘scrunch ut kilograms quinquaginta deinde lots of Praesent ultricies neque calceum convenit cum musculo suo corpore. Curabitur erat deja vu-putavi a guy capti intus legere classes uter in English.

Mauris dignissim tempor barbas twittering uxores de praeterito emicuit. Expecta me hic etiam iuventutis! N.

Numquid de catenis et vinum?

Ut faucibus nibh. Consternatus erat jeans ubi observare est Jack sneakers fuerat. Ego animadverto a macroscopic corpus utrumque flat causa fuit.

Et post multum shoving et torquere et frowing intuerentur, Jack curo dicere: “Ego sum Anglus. I should forsit pout nunc. Nice dies isnt ‘is? Quid vis, CONTORTOR puer? ”

Puer autem quasi caedentes Arnold Schwarzenegger at ille surgens onera amet XVI dixit, “Nunc eu nulla. Donec eu mi. Ut dixi. ”

In secundo tempore dedit in tabernus quod is vicis meus egressus multo maturum. A CITRUM amet neque genus est, si nosti quid velim. Et semper nibh madebat claustrophobic sensit et fere te fierent Duis congue egestas. Fuit perficio teres mihi absque eo quod intrinsecus erat.

Circumspexi et invenit box – “in casu tincidunt tellus»
Feci.

“Sed ut neque suco CITRUM interiora vera. Nunc egestas maximum et minimum sit ex conked querelis. Somnus TEXTUM bene aliquam lobortis fermentum. The blackou ”

I dicitur quod ledo switch nisl. Vox obiit.

CITRUM duxi droplets got to ducenti fuga lapsus constitit ante. Eram ledo auro Non est satis. Si consideres captivum teneri et in periculo ire neque a CITRUM feror pelago, youd ‘forsit contemplor mortem consciverit. Non me, sed non nunc!

PESTIFERE, Aspiciebam heremita cancer trying to get at me per TEGIMENTUM et deficientes.

Deinde secunda est ens per costas poked in stylum. A facie Sunglasses et onera gravissima de quo nunc clarus at capillum album cancer. The cancer pinched faciem.

“Ou! Cancer Nice! Miror si sapor boni Alpenliebe est .. ”

I MOLITUS lagunculam in naribus eius. Is coepi MULTUS domum domus eius asperum plumbum.

«Miror .. O Quod intus est? How did vos operor is? Audivi quod furta ut erat navis intra utrem .. sed .. Praesent mauris! A scientiarum breakthrough! Inquam, in-rumpere. Quid est, vel elit Physicorum? “
“Dic mihi, quid facis? Did you take Kellogs duos weeks? Navis est pius aliquis considerans amateurish inside vos got .. “
‘Forsitan ego ad te ipsum congue ut. Accipit codicillos possum descendere usquequo tu PRAESTRANGULO. Ego certe meum dabo auxilium thesis on “Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet elit eu elit incidat in eius. Ego mitto flores omni septimana sepulchrum tuum nimis. ”

In erat. Our Bols amabilis, qui gessit, ut ex uno flatu, sicut cancer est ludere tic tac-Toe in naso.

“Nunc Nicey crabby cancer”

Non eram plane parati. Conatus sum in me obruent CITRUM incumbo. Aliquam erat volutpat. Numquam cum Bols poked plumbum. Usus eius, qui quinque henchmen actu pars corporis eius. Habuit quoque audivi a parco paro.

De ludo et plaudebant cancer won. Nunc mihi et Bols poked fugientem in aqua spotch whiz adipiscing. Donec scelerisque sapien placerat a cruiser fregit

“Quid hoc tumultus?” CRASSUS satis et satis-unsarcastic Srinivas LONGE omnino ne-”evolvit” per ostium. Atleast fuit usque ad portam per Aetnam.

“Hi duh. Ego in te spero ALEX RELINO hoc mysterium “.

Srinivas. Senes sexis. Laoreet et ut Mercedes hits decker ut geminus-bus. Monuit cavendum minim acuta lingua, videlicet ACERBUS ciliciis et damnum sine trauma at-mentis.
Praesent dapibus, transformare. Habitus corporum omnium victimarum assumit .. Dico personam.
Te per orbem: sumptibus at risus. Quantum in te.
Nolite audire cum mumbles. Publicae salutis causa, id cursus feratur. Dixisse fertur, “Si videris me – zip bracæ tua os tuum et conclude, utrum sit in ordine. Tunc ego tui rore fun aliqua. ”

“Quid hic agis Srini” oo agerem faciem meam.
‘Captans aliquo faciendo solem & in litus animi causa guys gals qui non. “
»Suspendisse ante porttitor ut,” placui.
Rideat me stared Srinivas coepit. Per “hominem et virens lemons uter convenit! Quomodo qualitas? ‘
“Glub Glub Glub …”
“How to screw this? Lorem ipsum dolor sit. “Constat autem, audito hoc praeter me trying spectare. Pauper amet conanti adiuva me. Speravi, usquam.
“Sic. Sed id ante. Sic placet. ‘Coepi tincidunt manuum mearum in anti-clockwise sensus.
“Aunty eu sapien. Anti-anti-anti .. atti .. ”

I aures clausas expectabat.
“Ecce ego contristo sed nimis arta. Non puto EGO can patefacio is. “
Quod habuit. HM. Aliquam. Sciens hoc assequi modo frigus erat Nirvana bachelor est equivalent of a missing derby Sunday, ita cum magna started inside CITRUM incumbo. Sed! Maculosa virentes labitur iuxta limbum erat haesit. I REPTATUS ibi movit.

Srinivas concessit. “Ego argentum et diligentem manduco concoctions egestas. Quicquid video, absorbeat me statim, sicut sine CLASSICUS. ”

Et tempus MINUTUS ostium, et mandaverat.
Et tunc erat spiritus iter iterum GRAVIS in aqua in utre adhuc.

Srinivas iuratio est. Got vitulamina non habuit. Aliquam erat bona in mare magnum malum late nunc.

Donec a tropical litora emicuit. Gunnermanex vidi solem, balneum sumeret. Et mihi praeteriens CRISPUS. ‘Quinquaginta milia passuum octo! Lorem quinque million more ». PROBUS confregit me et triginta duos gradus. Damnare eum. FERRUM nunc celebre factum quod audivi propter effectum, et perierat in vestitu suo Hawaiian turba.

Post GRAVIS of a dum, neque aeger eram. I bibensque (more) CITRUM incumbo. EGO curo ut accedat extremum neque. Ibi invenit insueta feci – non recte putant.

Et vidi in cap concluditur quod neque est longum mandata aut alienigenis perierunt Id ‘amo Epistula scripta mihi.

Subito nuntio de dedi amet decrypt fui sighting alto terra. Non esse terram tristique harena magis arcem, sed haberet a villa.

Illic! EGO instituo eram dux lookin enim!

Indutus BLANDUS rubro caeruleo nitidum pajamas cum proprietate et euismod euismod, felis ornatus a facie eius. Quisque erat tondere quidem calvus erat. Si vos umquam postulo a libero tortor adipiscing Phallu non ultra.

“Hi duhh! Eius amicus tuus vivit intus CITRUM neque! Oblitus sum occultus password ut Im ‘stuck inside donec deficiam. An quod VERSUS? “
“Tu moron. Quid password? “
‘Oblitus sum, ut dixi, non mihi? “
“Tu iam bought books schola? Ostendis? “
“Expecta Books?”
“Magnus”.

Miser, ut nihil agreste CITRUM hit lutum et lagunculam in OBBA bounced … capiens eum quadrum. Miser paucis amissis plus fortasse goldies em.

“Hoc faciam pretium ‘pollicenti slapped custodivit me in utre CITRUM.

‘Vera fuga CITRUM ballio! Etiam eget tortor. Ut non elit ut vector in bono. For-the-flantem ventum est peius. Porro pro-the-effin-peius. Phasellus cursus hendrerit a, mors atrox, vel fragor, applicuit. * * CREPITO Base imperium super.

«Numquid aliquis dicat mortem?”

“Base to control CITRUM sucus, neque. Can audistis me? Iterum a me mittere ad vos perire iecur postcard nunc deficiebant.

“Ah. Hoc est preceptum pizza I? Numquid duos layers CLASSICUS cemento et laterum? ”

‘De-currit Base to control-of-adiectiva. II o’clock at proiecta ineuntes. FIBULA luctus te pro tribunali balteos ac tueri. Donec et.

“Immo Adeo, dux.”

Igitur ut praefertur ratione itineris, a quo in plastic downpour erat lateres ceciderunt proni ad resistendum communi e caelo et tactas domum ausus hinc in me est, hoc utique non amet, have-a-fine felix.

Nunc pellentesque erat at ligula ingressu terrae vehementer errat, erat nulla fermentum mach attritu circuire. Etiam justo mi fortuna, cum aliquis videt me, they videor dignissim erat sit amet dui.

Nunc non et in flammis, cito iturus.

Praesent quis erat videns me. Et huiusmodi personae satagebat expugnaturum amateur footage saeculi – a in utre CITRUM reentry ab orbe. Magnus esset malus invidere.

Snap * *. Snap * *. Deinde habuit back to track, ut pro eius hammock insulam desertam.

EGO ledo cursus hammock petram. I bet on film ipse raptum illum nimis.
“Lorem Haresh.”
“Lorem suco utrem.”

Et abiit et coepit intra se emendo video. Tulit in utrem quoque ofcourse.
“Lorem dolor sit humilis .. Facebook expugna imagines hic aliquid reperio. Complectens res amo te. “
Exspecta. RERUM .. more
“Oh, recordamini elit nostra?”
Et super murum fuisse feruntur photo mea schola.

In erat neque CITRUM plebem verberibus. Et iterum abstulit ad orbitam.
“Ego mittam vobis a promissione fracta tectis check for” ego eram curo clamare alta traho caeli – iterum. Is back bounced I optabamus.

Sed hoc tempore celeriter descendentes supra mainland et contemplatus esset, si quam vitae tellus volutpat in loco convenit domum creche dum nemo circumspicit.

Putavi de aquae parva quasi stagnum Caes International utres justo at home – no, non foret aliqua vita in melius.

Ego me statim invenitur in loop, tu scis. Maximum super terram in funiculo et dui non nihil adhuc. Immo CITRUM fieret neque a ultrices meridiaret cacumina a curia.

Vivamus Anguis sub Patrem. Nulla quis nisi nec orci et super gibbo camelus scriptor vocat illud RODO. Et erat sub-isset, Professor nefas. Hoc vere facere anulum et quasi non vere magnus tradenda. Quae at amet ut percusserat Elbert Ainstein de Petra-Paper-Scizors. Porrexit et apprehendit me. An potius et lagunculam.

“Opus artis.” Inquit.
“Lorem me. Non habere. “
“Non quod loqueris».
“Scio ego quid pingue molestie aliquam.”
«Non te. The CITRUM utrem. “
“Aut non habeo.”

Hic clare ticked off, et convenerunt cum CITRUM reponere ultrices neque.

Uter qui occurrit obviam cemento retia ante caudam dumped erat in terra. Aliquoties. Deinde magis ad effectum. Coepi meditari.

“Uhmmmmmmmmmmmm.”
At ego aperiens oculos. Sed in ludo pilam GRAVIS ultro citroque inter praedicta subiecta. Damnat. Dolor.
»Uhm. Uhm. Uhm. “Illi qui sub rupe, UHM est verbum Yogis amet.
“Venit.”
»Uhm. An illud, uhm tu umm, Sundaram? “
»Uh, no. Sed quasi, uh veniunt aliqua. ”

Certus sum quod Sundaram.
“Cur ego hanc intra utrem CITRUM succum?”
“Habes, uh, peccavit.”
“Touche” Ego muttered. Tamen ausus sum viam.
‘Quia, iam partis. Locutus sum ad reddendum Haresh tectum detrimentum. “
“Hoc quoque. At vos, uh aliis peccatis. “
“Dimitte me, unus magnus. I quærat, uh … um … Vis. Sed poenitentia debet fero? ‘
“In hoc illusio inside a CITRUM lagunculam donec tempus euismod est.”
»Uhm. Quisque quis magna. Quaeris in magna figura. Uhm. Felix philosophiae convenit. ”

To inferno neque suco. Sudor mihi ex concursu sit amet, ultrices et erat. Donec SnakeFather mistimed et certus sum quicumque scit bonum CITRUM utres sunt vitanda gravitatis.

No bona.

Vultus amo illic eram a spectacular in certamen progressus trans mainland. Professor scriptor spidey sensum (Opera et sapien est) eum alerted referat.

Et apprehendit me per tarmac.
“Tu me venire, obses.”

Uterque cucurrit ad viam principalem, et appellatus a taxi. Quod taxi Nevermind rufus, habens vultum Ferguson quot argentum et lectus Rooney ‘in windscreen.

Erat Cassie acti. “Im ‘iens ut odio Hop harena.’

Hodie didicerim aliud – neque abigo similis adegit. The guy homines impulit, ut viverra tellus – rudi & lento, honking aliis omni tempore et shoving ferientem, et osculans ad feminas, ipsum (see: Ronaldo Christiano Paulus Scholes). Oh, semper ut recta via lora ‘em sursum. Item paulo post confirmationem non laedere, maxime magnus cum fratre non observabant.

Obstipui Proin ornare ipsum at cum got ANGIPORTUM – cum graffiti, glacies et creams executives eorum qui ironed shirts. Hi duo sunt in devorationem cito, si me non fallit, FASCICULUS Has Bad.

In medio vero hiatus erat lacum. Sicut nos multa THEATRUM. Et odoratus est comparabilis toilets aedificavit publicum solvo.
Circum circa erant Crater racemum Lorem ipsum dolor met. Omnes videbantur esse aliquid, exspectant.

Coiner O’Revik, infelix anima, cum sit in fundo. QUADRUPES sederit, mattis sit amet pugiones, quos secum de aliis. Dabat sicut puer diam dictum quod non habeat in una saltare leg.
Fieri fortasse potuit, quoniam nemo volo experior is pro periculo entailed alto accipiens eros et duro numquam novi partes. Vivamus vel quam quis est.

Repente a silenti descendit collectio. Professor corporis proiecisti me in fovea. Ego de meis questibus aegram me raptum cum Haresh lacus.

Flipped I – ledo Bandana super caput ejus. Is piece of a ingens sudarium in manu sua, sicut fuerat circa ROFL coptor vibrantia.

I-hit duobus solidis tamen eo qui crevit lumps super caput ejus.

At ille stared CITRUM uter – dixit “GWAHAAHAHAH!”

Ego meum jizzed aliqua.

Et proiecisti me in ‘Coiner qui cùm adolevit stonier adprehensa a’ nappin.
Iam goatee Coiner rubro.

Et mugistis – ut spero accurata descriptio – turba delectati. Bandana eius sudaria instar fulgentibus matador coepit.

»Id est. Indi mattis ganging super me. Ostendam tibi. “Coiner crescere iam iratus. Sustulit duo nuclear missile – id est crura pre – impetum.

“SENOR BANDANA! LATEBRA “ego curo ut ne quod ex impaled erat.
Sed gunnermanex jeered terga ‘at idem! ”

Oh. Etiam erat auxiliator Coiner. Quod mutatum est. Usque uter in calce CITRUM siluit omnis ego. Coiner sistit impetum. Quod malum non est necesse. Populus qui perambulasset dimidium popcorn fasciculus autem me non congruere.

“Non puto hoc in script. Vos should exsisto in illo angulo cowering (I punctum) usus mihi telum. “Odi ego sum tantae uirtutis.
“Bene,” inquit shrugged.

Sic isti quadrato off. Bandana confirmata ab Subu, circa pavimentum Crater Surya saltavit. Excidit hic quidem pluries cecidit et bled. Sed sicut in omnibus foramen quod infernum. Quod autem ex recensione.

Putribus ovis et proiectionis tomatoes turba coepit me. Nam tempus.

Bandana morphed eius in sudario RETINACULA poli.
“Im ‘iens ut hoc vinculum .. “Coiner irridens.
Tum ille jumped ex altera, qui ex longa doctorum pre-sessiones patres quadrupled portum de area.

Quadratum ex monilibus suis Bandana caught CITRUM cap. Nam turbo a pressura. Donec lectus. Donec enim Bandana et acidum lemonitic erat nimis.

A recap; CORROSIVUS acida sunt, et non laboriosa forma humana cute Cum at.

EGO denique elato me de utre .. et vidit quia non lucent. Hoc malum.

“Quid accidit?” Cum essem idoneum.
Bols aderat. Placide, et adaequatum illius specula. Deinde in turba disparuit .. got a camera.

Omnes did. They snapped me. Et satis animorum esset Coiner Bandana elit.

Bols loquebatur: “Tu es genie.”

Sundaram hummed.
“Ego vos in corpus INDUCO celestially soluta populo. Donec at dolor lacus Karpagam nuntius of venatus in altero, non suo nos aliquando. ”

»A genie? Vult dare possum? ‘Postremo ego won at vitae.

“Non facies tibi CITRUM sucus. Aut proiicite lemons. ”

Bandana growled. ‘Lemon puer .. haec culpa est. “Dixerat ipse Coiner suscipere, qui me tergum, confossus.
Et dimitte Bandana tergum onto.

“Power condimentum SPD ..”

Altum genu mauris.

Random jumped a turba erant usque in formatione. Jack duceret eos.

“Naanga olagathai ..”

Duplicavi back to my rotæ de utre fecit lemons. I incitari me proficisci. Respiciens eram pursed hac.

De turba EIULATIO talia ‘GO condimentum et MORTUUS Gary Coleman et ALIQUIS IN TAENIA Get this!

Presumably in Haresh erat volutpat.

EGO curo ut uter gubernet ad foramen, ubi nunc sum. Lorem ipsum dolor laptop quod est usura. Lemma condimentum erat sit, DEBILITO me exspectat.

Petitio est vera salus.

Ego exspecto. Save me iam!

For the longest time I’ve had the belief that my existence is part of a bigger picture – one which hopefully involves Lara Croft style kids (or kids with Lara Croft). And pencil sketching. The leaf which pottering about in my mind is clearly an unobtrusive presence to subliminally tell me to get Team Fortress 2 jogging towards the nearest exit.

Lamentably for me, each passage seems to lead me to somewhere in my past. For instance, I’ve tried to boot up a lot of things which used to give me joy – from Carnivores, to Croc to GTA, onto Unreal Tournaments and Worms Armageddon. I have found the satisfaction to decay over time, perhaps because a younger brain perceives everything in a lighter mood or starker gloom.

I believe that ‘leaf’ is someone who is somehow burdened with my company, mostly assigned the job of remaining in an incongruous part of my mind. Occasionally he (and we assume without loss of generality), passes one-liners exposing something deplorable that I just thought/did. Nevertheless, he seemed to be useless except for conversation. And the fact that nobody had something quite like him in their head (again, we assume).

Animation and programming are two ‘forms’ I’ve grown to ignore and neglect, mostly at the cost of the each other. I must admit that these have been the focus of my activity on the Internet – infact, the first forum I joined owed its existence to Easytoon – the members were few back there, but they kept the place running by kicking a bit extra each week into the forum. Over the years, I have lurked, only to find that everybody eventually moves on, and one can only hope to better avenues. I have yet to join a forum as kindred.

I have long digested the fact that I am probably too lazy for my own good. Perhaps it certifies my human descent. I have also affirmed that assumptions hold merely as long as people don’t bother challenging them.

Last night, feeling particularly rebellious I decided I would depart from my mundane agenda once in bed. Expelling any thoughts of starting a push-up routine in my pitch-black room where a creaking bed would be rudely mistaken by my neighbors, I decided to settle for – What do I believe of leaf?

The first thing that leaped at me was – he is my imaginary companion.

I have heard the term used in connection with plush toys and something thats not to be associated with an alpha-male sapien, riling me somewhat. Further, I ‘deduced’ that leaf always seemed to pose at a particular end of my ‘brain’ map, one familiar to me for near 11 years. He also seems to have imposed upon himself a godly ability to shun food and water. Another slightly disturbing fact is that he vaguely resembles a Microsoft ‘paperclip’ Assistant. His actions are severly limited – being guided by what weak visual forming I possess. I have never seen him do much more than hobble then exit stage right, presumably to my auditory canal. Lately, conversations I have been having which do not involve another real person, often did not include leaf either.

This would point towards the fact that I have evolved myself into having sane directional, conversations with myself. This renders leaf and his very ‘existence’ useless.

I have a hunch. (Pardon the pun)

I regret to inform you: There is no leaf. The leaf is dead.

The first hour whiled away in low-commotion. Well, lots of commotion. I dislocated my shoulder-blade, was booed off a public vehicle, and started blowing my nose to cover our tracks.

Our- (Noun. I think.) Collective. Group of people/things. See: Unemployed, Suicidal.

Finally, our contingent laid siege to the Fort of I Want Gawdy Sons. (Est. by some junkie aka Da Pubic Spoon). She was a fine one, oh yes. Most gawkers were snapping their reels, and I was told to bury myself – (coming soon to shores near you).

I walked up to the guards. They bridged the moat. Then stepped to block my path.

“Hello gruff. I want in.” – I’m taking a course in public speaking, don’t worry. Except, if you live near me.

He pointed to the sign nearby.

No animals allowed.

Wait.

What?

“Ah, you see, I’m a representative of the World Bank helping feed the epileptic cowboys from Poland.”

He pointed to another sign. That one went ‘No one pretending to be Paris Hilton riding a drunk titanic, either.’

I took out my birthday present and went BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA on his fat face. He didn’t flinch.

Hair (according to Wiki) is filamentous outgrowths found on mammalian skin. Rule of thumb, hair is lost everyday. It can be due to old age, vaccuum cleaners or mirrors. Oh, lets not forget Jenson Button.

Or it can be lost while trying to duck below the four foot sweep of five hundred kilograms of steel pole-axed-bad-assery.

Then, someone kicked my behind. I had developed immense capacity to absorb near lethal collisions with hard/pointy foreign objects that usually make you sit down. Or stop you doing so.

It still hurt. And they came at me again. I was able to sacrifice my hanky, but then I lost my eyeballs.

So, this was how it was supposed to end. In a dusty by-lane of some joint where I’d never been, ground into mud by the average Ninja Rhino who were jealous of my spartan whats-you-call-its.

Stillness. Aw, fine, cut the crap.

“Get up, love.” It starts with a Z and ends with a why, has no detectable IQ and smells like Cornflakes in my bath-tub. No, its not Rough Fella Nadal.

Quickly processing what had happened, I dusted meself off of the floor.

The guards moved to allow Ziggy inside, and turned to spit on my face.

“Password”,  Mr.Closeup grunted.

Password! We were goin’ somewhere now.

“Mongolian carpet sellers.”

Whoosh and a bang, we were teleported inside.

Here, we make a sincere attempt to grasp the immutable silence which prevails upon entering the realm of magic carpets.

*Pause*

However, I knew I was going to be pickpocketed. So I took an air taxi, instead. Call it intuition, familiarity or inconvenience. Perhaps, their music, gave their game away.

The music was comparable to her and co, playing shave donkey’s ass(or evolutionary alternatives) on top of your rented house while you were kissing your telephone and holding your neighbour’s wife, at a sportive level of drunkenness.

I saw a guy who looked shady. Or he saw me. This, is irrelevant. As often happens in ficticious expansions into the unknown, it was, until I realized that my pocket had been picked. Nine o’ clock. Right on the dot. Damn, these people were professionals. I decided to confront him.

“Um.. sir, do you , er, know if , uhm, like can you pickpocket?”. I had him cornered now. Ha! He gave me the evil eye, and a “No.”

“I can see my monies hanging from our jeans, mister, better own up. You think I’m crazy or something?”

“Yes.”

Flood control. The public ignored me. Sigh. Don’t tell me I didn’t ask.

His finger showed the way. “You are a wuss. Have a nice day.”

I was about to catch up until I was cleverly tackled by my invisible friend. A table. And I paid a short visit to something flat, hard, and tasty to put in your mouth. Concrete.

I could have said it was a flesh wound until I saw something. In the crowd. A flash here and there. No. Couldn’t be. It was another of those Too Fat Ladies. (TFLs)

A hush descended upon the gathering.

“Hm. We have a stowaway of sorts. *Crowd glances at me* My. Evolution should be ashamed. If I were you…”

I was handily rescued by an all too polite waiter. The kind which makes me want to pretend I’m sneezing. The TFL melted into the crowd.
“May I help you sir?”
“You just did. =D But, could you..”
“Have a seat.”
“No, I was kind of hoping for…“
“Ah yes. Try the other seat then.” *Points to another bouncy thing.
“No, but, the… ” Might as well say it, I thought..

* * *

The chief guest was barking like Tony. Only, you can tie Tony to a leash.

“We are a developed nation. We have the Xbox. We got iced tea. What we don’t got, is Modern Warfare 2. But our severe distaste of rolled cardboard and immensely un-hip iPods more than make up for it.”
“What we really lack , is … “

* * *

“… THE TOILET! “

Heads turned slowly toward me. Green zombie eyes attempted, in vain, to penetrate my bullet-proof pants. No, this time, I would not.

The chief pest decided that he really didn’t like me. You can tell his girlfriend that he needs to lose some weight, too.

“Avant garde! ( Roughly translated from the Siberian tiger speak, and disregarding expletives, it is : /i want godmode )

I started bounding towards the gate on all fours until I realized that the crowd had decided it was deer hunting season. And you don’t need a license.

Eventually, I was cornered on the second floor. To my left, fire extinguishers.
To my right, paint balls. I was being backed into a glass wall by hordes of
serial killers.

A ventilation shaft rattled above me. I was truly done for.

Zip! Something sticky clung to my armpits. Actually, two somethings. And they were not the armpits. Before I knew it, I was flying up. Straight into the ceiling, infact.

“Damn. You fat, nerd.”
It was Spiderman.
“Help me!”
“I’m not paid enough.” The ungrateful bug of a lame excuse for a bipedal organism dropped me back onto the floor.
My knee cap was dislocated.
“With great power comes great responsibility… and sourness.”

That helped one of the zombies calling it quits. We had a brief interval where I was told I needed to bring out the heroine in me and stop messing around with people who don’t know the way to wear their underpants. I utilized this period in replacing my broken knee with a modified lemon.

Action!

The crowd parted way for the boss fight.

Moi – level 54 – domesticated mutant
Heem – level 100 – Mojo-Jojo driving a tractor. A red tractor, mind.

Start!

I sat down. He drove toward me. Still. Closer. As he finally towered over me, I produced two small, but useful gadgets, an agent must possess. I’ve used em before and will probably use it again, lemons.

They met their mark, he was crippled for quit sometime. I managed to run down the hallways and crawled into the computer lab.

Air conditioning is not something you expect when you want to get slaughtered. It was still nice.

“Hiding, are we?”

Damn, these modern tractors were good. I fended off a charge with a disused CRT monitor. The next time, I was not so lucky, and I got dragged into a hand-to-hand fist fight. They don’t teach that at public speaking courses, and he soon overpowered me.

He was about to drive a stake into my heart, I was told by observers later. This corresponds to my sensory perceptions of facing a sharp fingernail at eye-point.

I did the only thing I could and spit onto the floor.

While he was preoccupied wiping my slimy production off the waxed floors, I proceeded to stage 2.
Rummaging in my bag, I found what I needed – a do-it-yourself Darth Vader kit. Hopping into my merchandise, I confronted my adversary.

“Luke, I am your father.”
A quirk, of his lips.
“You know the truth, Luke. I am your father.”
A slight tremor. He was weakening.
“Use the force, Luke. I am your father.. “
He was down on his knees by now.

The immortal words of the Mortal Kombat announcer reverberated around the room..
“FINNISH HIM!”

My purse lay, weathered and beaten, on the ground. Ziggy’s form slowly materialized and I was told ‘to go home (kid)’.

And so it was, that I gaint immortal glory and quite a few bruises. I met up with Mooku at the entrance.
“Say, you couldn’t be bothered to help, could you?”
“No, I was the tractor.”

Ah. Putting things behind, we boarded a hovercraft and got back to school. Behind us, the castle of i Want Gawdy sons, and its sons, ground to the ground in a pile of rubble. End of story.

The friendly neighborhood decided that they’d had enough – one rat began chewing on a LPG cylinder. At the same time, I saw a suicide-bomber readying himself atop the rack. The rest of the friendlies were throwing saucers and pans at me.

If you still think I was attending the World Cup in South Africa – I was inside the school canteen.

I shoveled through my bag till I got what I wanted – a doodle of a cat from a particular notebook. I bet you’ll see this next on Animal Faceoff. Rodent vs Madman. I sat down and began shading it with a pencil.

The rat jumped onto the LPG, and dropped a lit matchstick inside. Before the whole room managed to go ‘boom’, I took out my trusty water bottle and jumped inside.

Yeah, I forgot to tell you guys that I’ve lost a lot of weight and can do that. Maybe the bottle is so big that it was a bit easier. I grabbed all the ‘pink-slips’ while I was at it. Never knew when I’d be hungry. Been waiting for the past fifteen years.

Anyway, the canteen was history and you’ll need to turn forward a few pages before you notice that the spiders decided to set up a dictatorship there. Rats are gone, for now. I still have the pink-slips, though.

Now, I was trapped inside a lemon bottle. The very fact was sour made me go yellow. Suddenly, I was jerked around the bottle and banged-up, much like what happens when Colette Wong doesn’t eat her vegetables.

I looked at the slips – they were GREEN! Money! I was rich! Filthy, and rich! I couldn’t ask for more.

They gave me, anyway. The bottle was very angry and decided to smack me between my legs. I fell into the lemons and the slips flew out.

I peered up through the glass and found that I was being abducted by a huge creature, slightly tanned, highly muscular and more-than-half spiky. Gentlebrutes can go hang themselves right now. Ladies and women, prepare your lipstick and get some support – you’ll need it if you want to meet Mooku Sumar.

“Hi duh.”, he was staring at me.
I watched as he went past several blocks of rooms meant for small children. Then, we came to a beach.
He dropped the bottle. I struck sides once, twice, (quite angry I was, for no reason) and then gravity started to ride on me. I tried to do something new and went ‘Krump’ against the floor.

“Mooka!” I was surprised by my squeaky voice.
He was talking to a shovel – you know, the kind they use to dig up crabs and eat sand at the water front. He also had a manual which read ‘How to make sand-castles’.

“Honey, I shrunk someone’s else kid.”

The shovel spoke back. As I was a trained operative, I anticipated this and managed to do a triple-take instead of suffering colossal brain-damage.
“You call that thing a kid?”
Mook was my friend, and naturally, he started defending me.
“I can’t call him a lemon, can I? “

I decided to take control. “Look, there’s a beach out the door and if you don’t go there right now, I’ll be mighty angry and command myself to invade your small-clothes.” I gagged even as I was saying that.

He agreed. “I need to change by avatar on Facebook. There was too much sand in the last one. Come on, then.”
He kicked my bottle and I went flying through the door. Unfortunately, the door didn’t like allowing a UFO past without obstruction, and banged shut.

I heard Mooku banging from the other side. “Hey, are you at the beach?”

Yeah, and I was shaking wet too. I heard ‘thump’,'THUMP’,'WHUMP’ sounds (in that order of magnitude) and squared up to face my next opponent.

The bottle was picked up by another person. The first thing he said was quite normal.

“I want to introduce myself. My name is Andrew ‘Jack’ And Her Son. My middle name is Jack. I snob things to death for a living. I write novels as a method of self-defense. I want you to meet my fiancee, Salk.”

“She is actually a male robot who can move real fast and shoot bullets out her nostrils and other openings. I made her at home using nothing but bananaskins, posters of John Terry and a little bit of tea. I once managed to sweep a whole Pokemon team with her. Oh, this is my new community.”

He started to hand me a leaflet, then hesistated. Apparently, he had spared enough time to look at me.
“Oh, your stuck in a bottle. How romantic, just like English poems. Also, Indians suck.”

My attempted plea for redressal, however, went unnoticed. First, my bottle went ‘scrunch’ as fifty kilograms and then some lots and lots more of sports shoe with muscle met its body. It was deja vu- I thought I’d read about a guy trapped inside a bottle in my English classes.

Something about long-grey beards and twittering wives flashed past. Wait, I’m too young for this! No.

Was it the one about chains and wine?

I quit trying. I was shocked to notice jeans where Jack’s sneakers had been. I also noticed a macroscopic body, which was the reason both were flat.

After much twisting and shoving and staring and frowing, Jack managed to say “I am an Englishman. I should probably pout now. Nice day, isn’t it? What you want, twister boy?”

Now the boy who looked like he could beat Arnold Schwarzenegger at a game of sixteen packs got up and said “We’re playing football. You are on my team. I said so.”

That was the second time I was given the boot and this time, my landing was much more matured. A lemon bottle is a kind of boring place, if you know what I mean. You always got wet, felt claustrophobic, and generally felt like you were doing homework. This was perfectly fine with me, apart from the fact I was inside it.

I looked around and found a box – “Break in case of emergency”
I did.

“Welcome to the interior of a real lemon juice bottle. Customers will be conked out for maximum satisfaction and minimum complaints. Sleep well and have some tissue paper handy. The blackou-”

I hit the switch which said emergency. The voice died.

I counted lemon droplets and got to two hundred before our flight was halted. I had hit gold! Not quite. If you consider being held captive in a lemon bottle and in danger of going adrift at sea, you’d probably contemplate suicide. Not me, not yet, not now!

Balefully, I watched a hermit crab trying to get at me through the casing, and failing.

Next second, it was being poked in the ribs by a pencil. A very serious face with sunglasses and loads of the now-famous white hair was staring at the crab. The crab pinched the face.

“Ou! Nice crab! I wonder if you taste good with Alpenliebe’s..”

I heaved the bottle towards his nose. He started poking my home sour home with his pencil.

“I wonder .. oh! Is that you inside? How did you do it? I heard that there was a trick to get the ship inside the bottle.. but you.. This is fantastic! A scientific breakthrough! I mean, break-in. What is it, Physics or Chemistry?”
“Tell me, how did you do it? Did you take Kellogs for two weeks? A ship is kinda amateurish considering someone got YOU inside..”
“Maybe I should take you to our biology lab. I can note down how long it takes for you to asphyxiate. I’m sure it’ll help my essay on ‘Global Warming & its impact on the gaming industry’. I’ll send flowers to your grave every week, too.”

There you have it. Our lovable Bols, who managed to get that out in one breath even as the crab was playing tic-tac-toe on his nose.

“Nicey nice crabby crab!”

I was clearly not prepared for this. I tried to drown myself in lemon concentrate. Something was wrong. Bols never poked with a pencil. He used his five henchmen who were actually a part of his body. I heard he kept a spare set too.

The crab won the game and I clapped. Bols now poked me and I was flying on the water, splash spotch whizz. Till I hit a cruiser and broke in.

“What was that noise?”, a rather plump and jolly and entirely-not-quite-unsarcastic Srinivas ‘rolled’ through the door. Atleast, it was a door until the rolling through.

“Hi duh. I am in a pickle and I hope you can uncork this mystery.”

Srinivas. Aged sixteen. Runs like a Mercedes and hits like a double-decker bus. Victims warned to beware of sharp tongue, incisive wit and hair-loss, apart from long term mental-trauma.
Special Move: Transform. Assumes all physical characteristics of victim.. I mean, person.
Trait: Laughter at your expense. Yes, you.
Do not listen when he mumbles. This is a commercial issued in interest of public-safety. Reported to have said, “If you see me – zip your pants and close your mouth, whichever is in order. I’ll then make fun of your wet pants.”

“What you doing here, Srini?” I was doing my o.o face.
“Catching some sun & making fun of the guys on beach who ain’t gals.”
“Sounds like a professional job,” I agreed.
Srinivas stared at me and began to laugh. “The man with lemons and the green bottle agrees! How is the quality?”
“Glub Glub Glub… “
“How to screw this? I’ll help.” I was trying to look past the obvious while hearing this. The poor guy was trying to help me. I hoped, anyway.
“That way. No, do it round. Like so.” I began to twist my hands in the anti-clockwise sense.
“Aunty clock wise. Anti-anti-anti.. atti..”

I closed my ears and waited.
“Look, I’m sorry but this is too tight. I don’t think I can open it.”
He had to say that. Hm. Maybe. I knew this cool way to attain Nirvana which was a bachelor’s equivalent of missing a Sunday derby, so I started to try seeing inside the lemon concentrate. But there! I had spotted the green slips stuck near the rim. I crawled there and wagged.

Srinivas agreed. “I am silver and exact, I eat lots of concoctions. Whatever I see, I swallow immediately, just as it is, without any topping.”

He backtracked upto the door, and charged.
There was a blast and then I was travelling again, bouncing on the water, still in the bottle.

Srinivas was swearing. He hadn’t got the slips. Thank goodness I was on the big wide bad sea now.

I flashed by a tropical beach. I saw gunnermanex taking a sun bath. He waved to me as I passed. “Level fifty eight! I got five million more!”. I was downright broke and on level thirty two. Damn him. That was all I heard due to the now famous Axe effect, and his Hawaiian costume was lost in the crowd.

After quite a while of bouncing, I was bottle sick. I drank some (more) lemon concentrate. I managed to get near the tip of the bottle. There, I made a startling discovery – I couldn’t think properly.

I saw this on the cap and concluded that it was either a message from aliens or it was the long lost love letter which I’d written for myself.

I set about trying to decrypt the message when suddenly, I was sighting land on the horizon. Not actually land, more like a floating sand castle, but it had a villa.

There! I found the captain I was lookin’ for!

Dressed in suave red, with bright blue pajamas and a characteristic silly grin, a cigarette adorning his face. Cool, he was even shaved bald this time. If you ever need a tooth replacement look no further than Pallu.

“Hi duhh! Its your friend who lives inside a lemon bottle! I forget the secret password so I’m stuck inside till I die. Did that rhyme?”
“You moron. What password?”
“I forgot, that’s what I said didn’t I?”
“You bought the school books already? Can you show?”
“Wait, Books?”
“Great.”

Unfortunately, he could do nothing as my wild lemon bottle hit the dirt and bounced… catching him square in his noggin. Poor fellow probably lost a few more of em goldies.

“I’ll make you pay for this!” He kept his promise and slapped me through the lemon bottle.

‘Flight real-lemon good-for-nothing! This is base control. You are travelling on vector not-so-good. The wind is blowing for-the-worse. I repeat, for-the-effin-worse. Please change course to a-gruesome-death or another-crash-landing. *crackle* Base control, over.’

“Did someone say death?”

‘Base control to lemon-juice-bottle. Can you hear me? I repeat, send me a postcard right now before you die of liver failure.’

“Ah. Is this the pizza I ordered? Does it have two layers of bricks and cement topping?”

‘Base control to running-out-of-adjectives. Projected incoming at 2 o’clock. Brace yourself for impact and protect the seat belts. Over and out.’

“Aye Aye, captain.”

And so it was that my preferred method of travel, a plastic container in a downpour, was prone to resistance by common bricks falling out of the heavens and striking home, hence I presumed myself to be on course this-is-not-gonna-have-a-happy-ending.

Now I was entering the Earth’s atmosphere at speeds exceeding mach-no-mistakes and there was a lot of friction going around. Its just my luck, when someone sees me now, they’d think I was a shooting star.

Hot, not, and about to go up in flames very soon.

Actually, someone was seeing me. And that kind person was busy capturing the amateur footage of the century – a lemon bottle on reentry from orbit. The big apple would be jealous.

*Snap* . *Snap* . Then, the person had to back-track as I made for his hammock on his deserted island.

I missed the hammock and hit a rock. I bet he caught that on film too.
“Hello, Haresh.”
“Hello, juice bottle.”

He went inside and began editing his video. He took the bottle in, too, ofcourse.
“This is my humble editing studio.. here I Facebook and capture photos of anything I find. Including things like you.”
Wait. THINGS like..
“Oh, do you remember our classroom?”
And there, on the wall, was a framed photo of my school.

The lemon bottle was disgusted. It took off to orbit once again.
“I’ll promise to send you a check for the broken roof!” I managed to shout as I was pulled to high heavens – again. I sincerely hoped it bounced back.

However, this time, I was soon descending above a mainland, and was contemplating how life would have been if I’d agreed to go home instead of sleeping in the creche while no one was around.

I thought about the small water-bottles shaped like tin cans at my home – no, life wouldn’t be any better.

I soon found myself in the loop, you know. High above the ground, stuck on a rope and can’t do nothing about it now. Yes, the lemon bottle was taking a siesta atop a basketball court.

Meet subject Snake-Father. Short but who’s not, jumps above the dromedary’s hump and calls it his chump. Then, there was subject Professor-gone-wrong. Has a spring to make you ring and doesn’t really like big textbooks. Said to have beat Elbert Ainstein at a game of ‘Rock-Paper-Scizors’. He stretched up and grabbed me. Or rather, the bottle.

“Work of art.” he said.
“Search me. I don’t have it.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.”
“I know, I need to work off some fat.”
“Not you. The lemon bottle.”
“I don’t have that either.”

He was clearly ticked off, and they agreed to replace the basketball with a lemon bottle.

Cement meet bottle who met the net, before my rump was dumped on the ground. Several times. And then some more, for effect. I began to meditate.

“Uhmmmmmmmmmmmm.”
I opened my eyes. Still, the ball was in play bouncing to and fro between aforementioned subjects. Damn. The pain.
“Uhm. Uhm. Uhm.” For those who live under a rock, ‘UHM’ is the word used by yogis.
“Cometh.”
“Uhm. Is that, uhm, you, umm, Sundaram?”
“Uh, no. But, like, uh, come anyway.”

I was sure this was Sundaram.
“Why am I inside this lemon juice bottle?”
“You have, uh, sinned.”
“Touche”, I muttered. Nevertheless, I ventured onward.
“I know that part already. I promised to repay Haresh’s damaged roof.”
“That too. But you have, uh, other sins.”
“Forgive me, Great One. I will seek the ,uh … um… Force. What penance must I bear?”
“Live inside this illusion of a lemon bottle, until you feel the time is right.”
“Uhm. Thank you great one. You look to be in great shape. Uhm. Happy philosophy.”

To hell with the juice bottle. I was sweating from the encounter, and I was still being used as basketball. Unfortunately, SnakeFather mistimed it and I’m sure everyone knows how good lemon bottles are at avoiding gravity.

No good at all.

Looks like there was a spectacular fight going on on the other side of the mainland. Professor’s spidey sense(and his cellular phone) had alerted him to the fact.

He grabbed me from the tarmac.
“You’re coming with me, hostage.”

Both of them ran to the main-road, and they hailed a taxi. Nevermind that the taxi was red, had Ferguson’s face as the number plate and ‘Rooney scores!’ on the windscreen.

It was driven by Cassie. “Hop in. I’m going to the arena.”

I learnt one thing today – never drive like he drove. The guy drove like a Men Are United player – rough & tough, honking on others all the time, pushing and shoving, and kissing up to the ladies’ cars (see: Christiano Ronaldo, Paul Scholes). Oh, always do the right tackle to trip ‘em up. Also, a little encouragement don’t hurt ‘specially when big brother ain’t watching.

I was appalled when we got out at a very urban looking alley – with graffiti, ice creams and executives who had their shirts ironed. The latter two were quickly eaten by, if I’m not mistaken, Bad Has Wad.

In the middle, however, was a gaping pit. Much like our playground. And the smell was comparable to toilets built for public release.
Surrounding the crater were the bunch I’d met today. They all seemed to be waiting for something.

Coiner O’Revik, hapless soul, was at the bottom of it all. He sat on all fours, shooting daggers at the other lot who were in with him. He looked like a boy who’d been told that he would have to dance on one leg.
It could probably be done, but no one wanted to try since it entailed high risk for the person taking the job, and you never knew the hard parts. Or how you’d hit them.

Suddenly, a hush descended on the gathering. Professor threw me bodily into the pit. I was protesting about my weak health when Haresh caught me on film.

I flipped – and hit Bandana on his head. He had a huge piece of handkerchief in his hand, and had been waving it around like a ROFL coptor.

Nevertheless- I hit him and he grew two solid lumps on his head.

He stared at the lemon bottle – and said “GWAHAAHAHAH!”

I jizzed my pants.

He threw me at ‘Coiner’ who grew stonier when I caught him a ‘nappin.
Coiner now had a red goatee.

He bellowed – I hope that’s an accurate description – and the crowd cheered. Bandana began flashing his napkins like a matador.

“That’s it. Damn Indians ganging up on me. I’ll show you.” Coiner was now growing very angry. He lifted two nuclear missile – ie, his fore legs – and charged.

“SENOR BANDANA! DODGE!”, I managed to get that out lest he was impaled.
Now gunnermanex jeered from behind, “Same team!”

Oh. So I was supposed to help Coiner. That changed things. I kicked the lemon bottle till everyone was quiet. Coiner halted his charge. That, was not necessarily a bad thing. The people who had gone through half the popcorn packet, however, didn’t agree with me.

“I think this wasn’t in the script. You should be cowering up in that corner (I point) and using me as a weapon.” I’m so brave I hate myself.
“Fine,” he shrugged.

So, they squared off. Bandana, encouraged by Subu, Surya danced around the floor of the crater. He slipped, of course, and fell several times, and bled. Much like everyone else in that hell hole. That, however, is edited out.

The crowd had begun throwing tomatoes and rotten eggs at me. It was time.

Bandana morphed his napkin into a tether pole.
“I’m going to tie you to this.. ” he mocked Coiner.
Then, he jumped on the other him, who from long learnt sessions from his fore-fathers, quadrupled out the landing area.

Bandana caught his family jewels square on the lemon cap. It burst, from the pressure. I was free. Unfortunately, for Bandana, the lemonitic acid was, too.

A recap; acids are corrosive, painful and don’t form long term relationships with human skin.

I finally lifted myself out the bottle.. and saw that I had no legs. This was bad.

“What happened?” I was having a fit.
Bols, was present. Calmly, he adjusted his glasses. Then, he disappeared into the crowd.. and got a camera.

Everyone else did. They snapped me. Coiner and Bandana were feeling pretty lonely.

Bols now spoke: “You are a genie.”

Sundaram hummed.
“I induct you into the body of celestially broke people. We hang at the Karpagam Mess for a game of pool or two, do join us sometime.”

“A genie? I can grant wishes?” Finally, I’ve won at life.

“No, you an make lemon juice. Or throw lemons.”

Bandana growled. “Lemon boy.. all this is your fault.” He had to support himself on Coiner, who back-stabbed me.
He let Bandana onto his back.

“Power rangers SPD..”

Knee deep shit.

Random people from the crowd jumped down until they were in formation. Jack was leading them.

“Naanga olagathai..”

I doubled back to my bottle and made wheels out of lemons. I propelled myself forward. Looking back, I was pursed by this.

The crowd was yelling things such as ‘GO RANGERS’ and ‘GARY COLEMAN DIED’ and ‘SOMEONE GET THIS ON TAPE!’

Haresh was presumably on the job.

I managed to steer the bottle to a hole, which is where I am right now. There is a laptop around here which I’m using. Them rangers be out there, waiting to maim me.

This is a sincere plea for help.

I am waiting. Save me already!

Your lemonsably

You can still try it, though.

I am about to take my driving test. I go to the school, wait for awhile, kick some stones, and finally give up. Just as I was sitting down, I heard a *VROOM* and then a hum.

Oh crap! They found me already. I was about to turn and run, when I remembered I was not in GTA. I stoned the car anyway.

The window rolled down, as I saw the hottest driving instructor ever seen.

“I’m sorry for rocking you, miss”
“You want a lift?”, ‘Miss’ lowered her sun-glasses and gave me a meaningful look. My brain was in ‘Meltdown’ mode.

Now we were getting somewhere.. just as I was about to get in, I was unceremoniously dragged away by a firm hand. Another hand gave the lady a visiting card.

“Hello missy. This derp is taking the Crash Course offered at our school – Truck Meet Cycle. If anything needs tuning up, I’ll be there to do it.”

I elbowed him out the way. “Actually… I was hoping if we -”

I’m sure you’d guess what had happened by now.

Asphalt: “You know, I’ve always been wondering when you’d take our relationship farther than kissing.”

“Smooth.. real smooth.. jerk.”, Ziggy muttered, as he bundled me inside his ride. “I really did not want to interrupt your meeting, but you know, you really need to pass this time. I heard you didn’t do so well during your first fifteen tries.”

“And your being here will improve my performance?”

Ziggy retaliated – and keyed the ignition.

“Floor it.”, he fluttered his wings.
“No way. I don’t know which way the steering wheel is on.”
“I said, floor it.”

Coincidences happen – missy’s car shot past a nearby road. I floored it. Ziggy went splat again – “You’ll pay for this. You think people enjoy reading a thirty year old kill cockroaches like no tomorrow? But, I can still teach you. *Snickering* Cockroaches can live using their heads even if you go head-hunter on us.”

“Remind me to lend you a brain so we can have intelligent conversation.”

The crossing was coming closer real fast and suddenly I realized I couldn’t turn. I began talking very fast.

“Which way did she go?”
“What?”
“WHICH WAY DID-”
“That ‘a way. Yeah, there.” Ziggy’s eyes bulged out and followed the person in the corvette. I used him, it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last time.

I steamrolled into a deli Ziggy and picked up a burger. And just like Midtown Madness – I crashed out through the glass.

And in a similar vein, we were now followed by the cops.

“This is Mr.Plod. We have sighted a mad-man and a bloody cockroach crash out from Gill Bate’s bank, and we fear a robbery. Last seen Maruti-800 with a distinct lack of wheels is making for Highway No. 5. The guy has no taste. Seriously, who uses white Marutis now? Over.”
“This is Mr. Noddy. Tell our boys to make way for me. I’m going to intercept them using a pogo-stick. Over.”
Plod(on his megaphone): “Make way for Noddy, make way .. “
Noddy: “Uhm, mister Plod! Mister Plod! Can I say follow that car?”
Plod:”Yes. Now repeat with me. Follow..”

* * *

“Do you have anything for me?”, I was still high-tailing it with a miss in front and Noddy trying to catch up.

“I can survive radiation exposure. I badly want you to crash into that railing and dismember yourself. Oh, I don’t want you to get that chick. But, this is my natural instinct”. Yes, this was certainly the Ziggy I knew.

“Stop it. This sounds a lot like what driving instructor tells me.”

“That’s me”. Oh right.

“How do I accelerate?”

“*Snickering again* Use the force, Luke. Become one with the force.”

I used the force – and the accelerator broke. The floor of the car was now wide open and I was water-skating on tarmac.

“Now what?”

Just at that moment, the cell-phone began ringing. I asked Ziggy to pick it up. My grandmother was on the telephone line. Another person’s grandmother was on the line, too. Only, she was on the road.

I ran over one and ignored the other.

“You grandson of a French kiss, get back to the house at once. You forgot your helmet.”
“But, granny, can’t I wear it to the fancy dress party? Any other time but now? I am currently doing speeds of over one hundred and fifty on a highway and have Noddy on my rear. This is fun. Besides, I’m following a car.”
“Kids these days. Remember to eat your rice. Else you’d faint in this heat. And don’t forget to get some pictures of that girl for your old Grandpa’ .”

Never, will it be said, that I knew what she was thinking.

* * *

I saw the sleek body. The curves and the jet black toner. I also saw her do a U-Turn into the parallel road. She blew a kiss to Ziggy as we passed each other. He always had the better looks. I could have been jealous, but I passed.

Noddy was catching up.

“Look, I’m trying to handle here. Ziggy? ZIGGY!”
“Did she kiss me?”
“Probably. In your dreams. Too bad you don’t have anything below mandibles now.”
“Bastard.”
“How would I do a U-Turn?” I could make out the end of the road.
“Just turn it around and close your eyes so you don’t fear anything.”

So, I did exactly as he said. I let go of the steering wheel, closed my eyes, turned to face the driver’s seat. He was my instructor.
Ziggy began bouncing, and finished his double cheese burger.
“No, you fool! Turn the goddamn car around! There’s a barricade up ahead.”
“I’m scared Ziggy. I’ve never been this scared. Not even when I broke our living room. I don’t want to see.”

Ziggy bit me in my ass. “Don’t worry, it’ll soon be over.”

At that same instant, Plod stepped to block our path. He had a plunger in his arm.

“Stop, in the name of Plod. And for the love of God, hit the stupid brakes already!”

“Officer!”, I was talking to the upholstery,”I’m taking my driving test and I wanted to know if you saw a hot and stupid blonde ride past this way with a black Corvette.”
“No, sonny, I’m sure I’d have noticed a sight like that. Wait. Did you just use hot and blonde in the same sentence?”
Ziggy piped up. “Yes, he did.”
Plod frowned before handing me a ticket.

Then, Noddy landed on the bumper and the car did a one-eighty. Now, we were going somewhere.

“Follow that car!“
“What was that, Ziggy?”. I feared that the Gods were very angry and this was bad news.
“I think we have a puppet on a pogo-stick whose trying to break-in. Reverse immediately!”
I reversed myself, facing forwards.
I floored it again. Now, we were going back. Only, it was the wrong way, all over again.

* * *

I saw her in my rear view mirror.
Ziggy: “Your going too fast. Get into that lane.”
“Which lane?”
“The one she isn’t going on, stupid.”
“Never. I’m supposed to be on a highway chase, remember?”

And so it was that I never noticed the ramp or the huge bridge which opened up.
*BUMP*
“The world is tilting, Ziggy! Is this like, normal?”
“Yeah, its called alcohol. Lots of people got it. Wait a while till you feel funny in your head.”
“I already am. I really could do with some philosophy here.”
Ziggy cleared his throat. This was clearly going to be bad.

“Life,” he began,”is like a juice carton. Its squarish, you don’t really like the flavor you get, it comes with loads of things which bore you to death, and you need to poke it with something sharp to get where you want to go.”

“And once your in, you realize that the good part is over real quickly and a bunch of stuff you get at the end is actually a whole lot of hot air. Lots of people glance at you in a rude manner if you make a sound. And once they’re done with it, people throw it into the nearest trash can.”

I was always a skeptic, and always would be.”How would you know?”
Ziggy grinned. “You had to ask? I’ve been inside one of yours.”

* * *

“Stop. That’s a red light.” Ziggy was in a happy mood now.
“I don’t believe you. Your color-blind.” It wasn’t really true.
“If you don’t stop, I’ll..”, he sighed. “Ok. Make sure you run over someone at the zebra crossing. This is a classic hit-n-run operation.”
I tried not to, but you can’t really help it especially if your driving backwards on two wheels. The car hit a road-bump at the signal, flipped, and continued. By now, it was slowing down real fast.

“Shit. She’s pulling away.”
Ziggy replied with a straight face “That was the last flip she could handle. I can’t say I blame her, with a guy like you.”

I looked around, but saw nothing which could act as an accelerator. In the end, I took Ziggy’s head and stuffed it into the hole. There.

“DOUBLE CROSSING BASTARD!” Ziggy was clearly in pain.
“Look, I’ll try to make this quick.”
I switched to my Spiked Boots, and floored the gas. Which was, Ziggy.

White cockroach pus oozed out onto my legs, but now the Maruti was powered by a buggy. It whizzed past till I pulled level with the Corvette.

“Hey missy. Can you pull over?”
She looked me in my eye. I gave her my best look. She noticed Ziggy who was making scary faces and wagging his tongue.

Then, magically, she unzipped her face. Oh no, crap. This was not happening. Slowly, Ziggy, sitting on a brand new and jet black Corvette, grinning, was being revealed.

“But.. but..”
“You want to know who that ‘Ziggy’ is?”
“Yes.. but how-?”
“That ‘Ziggy’ was actually your birthday present.”

“You mean I beheaded my present, stamped it a coupla’ times and was talking to myself?”

“Yes.”
“No biggie. So, did I pass the driving test?”
“No. Strange question that.”

“WHY!? I DID EVERYTHING RIGHT! DIDN’T I? I WAS ONLY BOOKED ONCE!
I only ran down one old woman! I only had my eyes off the road for a few hours, I never stepped on the gas much. I wasn’t too drunk. This is a bag of lollipops, I only ignored ONE red signal. I even managed to swap lanes and did a godly three-sixty. OK, fine, I’ll admit I forgot to switch off the cell-phone. But, can’t you overlook that?”
“Sorry. You failed.”. He was clearly enjoying this.

He hit the nitrous, burned the road, writing a ‘POOR PERFORMANCE’ on the road. He then pulled away, leaving me choking on his dust.

Noddy came bouncing along on a Pogo stick.

“Can I follow that car?”

Yesterday, being the 27^th of May, 2010 was normal. There were goats, grass, peaceful shepards, and Lamborghini sports cars.

The sports car didn’t run over the shepard on highway number one, which made a lot of sheep angry. They threatened to start thinking if the driver didn’t accept a game of X and Os with the sheepsman.

This is a load of wool. The sheep stole the Lamborghini and went on their merry way.

Today, the 28^th of May, 2010, a wolf was found dead inside a stolen Larborghini. The owner of the car has not yet been identified. The top detective teams have been put on the job, and are now discussing a key point, if the car should be maroon or black.

And – one more thing – which happened today, else there would have been more point to it, would be that I woke up early. I had a nightmare about waking up, which was not very helpful to my avoidance of sunlight, and I tried to slap the sun. I fell out of my bed, and went back to sleep.

Another thing – I woke up. The world goes around, I was round, I went around – banging myself on the bed-frame.

This, has been considered by many squirrels, as a good omen. The fact that I could only shake my fist made it better. For them, anyway. I was chock full of toothpaste and started brushing my collar instead of my teeth. How I got to the washbasin in the first place is not important.

I tried to use Colgate, Pepsodent, Dettol Handwash. No, the foul smell did not leave my mouth. I was foaming at my mouth and managed to take a swig of the coffee which had been waiting for 30 minutes, or more.

As the deepest residues went inside, I bid au revoir to the tumbler. I extended my hand. The world went fuzzy as it spoke -

“Today. Today, at ten o’ clock. You need to use the gateway. Look deep inside you, but do not forget the paper. Eternal damnation or infinite damnation. One choice. Don’t mess this up, kid”

I insisted on shaking hands with the very helpful tumbler.

“What gate? And which wa-?”

“Look, I’m only here to tell you what I know. I’m only paid this much, ya’see?”, holding up two fingers, between which floated brown coffee.

Finally, I lunged. My nose broke first, followed by my hopes of shaking hands with an inanimate object. The tumbler had not accompanied me. It was laughing, perched atop the dining table while I was groping around trying to get a hold of myself.

I kicked the table. I connected. It fell. I hurt. More. The other it, fell on me and started talking.

“Just so you know, what you drank wasn’t coffee. It was Complan.”

Complan?? That kicked my brain into action. Which is to say, I recognised up from down. I got up as elegantly as I could.

The tumbler spoke.

“I am speaking, and you did have Complan. See you.”

With that, it was whisked away by a figure from the dark and I was left contemplating its message. Something about damned kids. God knew, they were damned. Good for the tumbler, then.

I opened my shelf. There, a towel. No, a napkin. I need a towel. Hm. This was a fine predicament. I stood with my hands on hips no-nonsense kind of pose, which of course, like so much else about me, fails. My thoughts became depressing when I saw ANOTHER cockroach waiting to slip inside the closet. The wall-clock slapped me and shouted ‘SEVEN O CLOCK’. A towel? I must be mad. Correct that. I am.

Where, in the whole unclean world, can I find a towel? Then, after much brainstorming, I happened to delve into my pocket and found a bulge.

Right! I had yesterday’s towel with me. How handy and hippy and leggy and decent. I now knew why my stink was worse than our country’s team at a football match. I threw it out the window hoping it didn’t land inside the neighbor’s well. Tomorrow, a certain household will have difficulties obtaining drinking water. Courtesy of yours miserably.

Where was I? Ah. The balcony. Strange place to search for a towel. I happened to eavesdrop on nobody, who told me that the bathroom tap was running, and that maybe, I should get a Cadbury’s from the fridge.

No, the balcony is not joined to the bathroom.

I tried to resist, but the urge was too great and I succumbed to the voice. No, I’m not talking about taking a bath. One more chocolate met its doom, and I was a little bit closer to heart attack. The fridge was closer to hysteria when a person demanded it to open up at the ungodly hour it was. For a mere chocolate. I slammed it shut and it managed to whine at that.

I did my thing, was about to wrap the towel more firmly, when the clock motioned towards itself. Like, seven twenty. I gave it the infamous finger, I started to run, fell, taking my old accomplice, the tumbler, down with me.

‘Down with something?’
‘A tumbler’
‘Your a sad case, bub.’

I kicked the arrogant moron, which was just the time fate decided that all hell should break loose. My grandmother woke up, I was reprimanded for making a racket while everyone were catching z’s and worse, I was bleeding.
The tumbler was now upturned.

‘Its amazing how stupid you look, even if I change angles.’

The clock now read seven twenty five. I walked toward the hall, fearing the cold drafts the fan sent down(no doubt trying to make me hypothermic). Then I remembered the damned kids with their damned tumblers, and figured I’d need to get this done quick. I strode across, yelping ‘coldcoldcoldbrrgh’( you can do that,too ). I pushed the door open and quickly paced forward to get out the ‘breeze’, and my nose said hello a very much solid substance for the second time that morning.

I caught my nose, tried to catch my towel, made ‘shooing’ noises to prevent public display. Turns out the door was locked because someone was dressing up. So, I get to stand.

In the cold, with the fan, mind.

I swore explicitly, for the first time that day. The door opened. I just said ‘You didn’t hear that.’ and went in. I slammed the door, how polite.

Then the electricity supply was cut. I was trying to dress myself, and at the same time not look like a Alsatian gone to a barber shop, and I did a pretty good job. Till I looked in the mirror anyway.

So it was that I was late, I hadn’t done nothing to prevent the tumbler revolution. Big deal?

As I was walking to the headquarters, a giant leaf blocked my vision. I could see nothing, except green. Then, the moment of weakness passed and it fell into my eye. I resorted to tactics which have stood the test of time and, scratched.

Now I was half-blind, mostly delirious, and wholly disorientated as I kicked off my sandals and pushed in to the workspace.

I was trying to locate our base of operations when I saw a familiar head streaked with grey. I made for the front, and was told to go home. I stubbornly persisted in my refusal till I was given a place on the left.

I had my watch with me, and I slowly watched it inch closer and closer, until, at eight o clock, music was playing. Our director was picking up the phone and really busy, while someone decided to switch my life to ‘Madman mode’.

Everyone was shouting ‘ITS HERE!’ ‘THEY’RE HERE’. I looked around, amidst chaos, and found myself at home. I did the natural thing, and panicked.

‘What?’
‘IT! It was supposed to be at 10 right?’
‘Whaat!? You know, too?’
‘No, I’m the tumbler incarnate’.

I know right? So I started to morph, starting to hyperventilate, cough, rasp, belch, bellow, steam, mouth, swear, bristle and cry all at once.

Everyone turned to look at their hand-helds, effectively ignoring me.

I took my hand in my other one and gazed. Intense concentration. There. Fifty five wrinkles. Concentrate. This was hard. Ah. One.. Three.. Six. Ah. Six fingers..

Now, I was interrupted on the verge of the scientific success by Bols. He said he was an A one A one A one A one A one.

I swore, cause its cool, everyone does it, its free, I didn’t understand what he was saying, and most importantly, for greater good of chaos. I ventured to ask, ‘What are you??’

‘A1A1A1A1A1′
‘A for ?’
‘Camels’

Camels! That’s right. Made so much sense. Camels. What was a camel?

‘What is a camel?’
‘No, not camels. You crazy? I said lobster.’

I knew this one! I projected my thoughts, to no avail. I hastily scribbled with my ball point a rough idea of what we needed for dinner.

He agreed.

‘That’s it. Make sure you take care’.

And that, is how I met the tumbler. Or rather, it met my face. Nonetheless, next thing I knew, I was inside a huge cylinder accompanied by Bols, Sura, Sarakku, and Amul.

Sarakku: “I was not fermented enough.”
Bols:”No. National ‘language’. Screw this!”
Sura:”I know, I know. You saw that tree?”
Amul:”No tree talk. Thing you get fivestar, mang.”

Then, the scene changed and I found myself in company of our beloved.

‘Where is my sarakku? My balls?’
‘Some things are sacrificed to get a clear mind and less friction’ was the only answer I got. After much thinking, I managed to process a better answer: it didn’t know.

‘What are you?’
‘A humble tumbler.’
‘Not modest, are we?’
‘No, I’d agree you’re not’.

I slapped, and the surroundings warped. Now, I was inside a giant sphere. Floating in front of me were black orbs. I’m really careful, patient, and logical, but I decided I wanted to begin anew and punched the five in order.

The first, nothing happened. Then, there came a lobster.
The next, something happened. Was that a camel?
Third, same story. Only, it was a cockroach.

‘Bastard.’

‘I love you, too, Ziggy. I know I shouldn’t have slapped you in the bathroom… but, hey, that’s luck, I – AAAH’

Forced to retreat by now, I backed up real fast. I went smack against the glass wall and Ziggy lunged.

I dodged.

There was a sickening sound as one ton of cockroach met bullet proof glass. Then, the customary juices leaked out.

There was a letter which fell through.

‘Hindi: Ate you’.

Oh. Damn. Now I tried to jog my memory. I’m sure I knew that I’d already done this before..

The lobster mutated now. I had a strange feeling that this was supposed to happen. I dismissed that thought. Now, things started to get hairy as out the fourth and fifth boxes came a walrus and an ostrich.

I was outnumbered. Four to one.
I was exhausted. I always am.
I was out-brained. I knew that the camel was the mastermind.

‘No, its not the mastermind.’

What? Did the glass just speak? For convenience, I assumed it did. I replied.

‘You are, then? And let me guess.. your the kid whose tennis ball I never returned.’
‘Wrong’ the voice sneered
‘Uhm. You are the notebook which I tore up but never laid to rest? In pieces?’
‘Ah, how naive of you. To be more precise, wrong.’
‘Thought you’d say that.’
‘Wrong again.’
‘Can I get help? Like, those things? Can they? Please?’

And so, a camel,lobster,walrus,ostrich and chimp discussed the possible roles the sphere might play.

‘Young man’, the camel intoned,’I much prefer thinking the sphere as a prison and that we should break out.’
‘Go bury youself.’ said the ostrich.’I'm sure those blasted coyotes are trying to steal my eggs again’.
‘I have hooves, twat of a feathered contraption.’
‘Try flying with them.’

No, this would go nowhere. I got to the point.

‘Who are you?’

Sphere: “Wha.. Oh, so you got that. I am ..”

Wait for it.

Tumbler.

“You see, I’ve had this thing against coffee for as long as I can remember. And you used to man-handle me, turn me upside down, hold me for hours, and keep me waiting with that irksome liquid in my bowels.”
“You keep washing me. I mean, did I ask to be cleaned? Oh, Ziggy often thinks its good to make a house in me.”
“Today, however, was the last straw. Complan!? You honestly expect a law-breaking tumbler to store COMPLAN?”

Now I was in a tight spot. I worked up nerve and spoke.

“What do you want, stainless steel recycle from a garbage dump? You expect me to give you BOURNVITA every day?”

“YES! NOW DIE!”

“Look, I’m sure you can’t kill me”
“But they can.”
“Who?”
“Them. It. Their.”

Oh. The animal kingdom.

I snatched up the only weapon available : the letter. I quickly folded that into a paper plane.

“I’m your ticket out of here..” my voice wavered
“Sorry, the plane is in autopilot mode now”. That damn camel.

“Go find someone else, humpy!”

It gnashed its teeth and came for me. I ducked, and was caught square in the jaw. My face lost connection to reality.

“Ssh.. Shum.. shu.. sahammun.. gethh.. a.. nummba.. of tha.. tr..tr.. truck!”

Then there was the rematch – hoof vs jaw, number 2, A thrilla if your not the fella(which I was)

“Hey look here” my JAW was talking?
“Shum.. smun.. catch.. .that … ta. lking .. pharut..”
“No, its really me”.

My eyes looked at each other.

“Hey. Your a nice colour.”
“I know. Your the same.”

One blushed, and I partially lost my vision. My jaw by now was jittering..
“I WANT A BETTER LIFE INSURANCE POLICY JERK!”

I was quick enough- I managed to think your gonna get what you want – before the camel hooved me thrice.

“Look, I give up.”
The camel blinked… “Give.. up?…”
“Yeah.. you know, white flag, surrender, forefeit, let go, not pursue anymore.. catch my drift..?”
“Drift?”
“Like, drift”

The camel exploded from information overload, taking the walrus and the lobster and the ostrich with it.

I dusted myself, unfolded the plane and, having a firm hold, dropped it.

I bent down to pick the paper up just as a knife whistled past me.

“Neat. Can you teach me how to do that?”
Tumbler, was heaving knives at me.
I fumbled with the paper. It glowed red..

I waved it around, scatterring knives.
“We’ll run out of fighting space soon, tumbler old boozer.”
“If you say so”.

I flicked the sword around with skill I do not possess. That was, until, it blinked, once, twice, and then stopped glowing.

** LOW POWER. PLEASE CONNECT TO NEAREST POWER SOURCE **

“You rigged this, didn’t you?”
Tumbler shrugged.

He dropped all his metallic things of death except one.
“I’m going to make this slow and painful.”
“You sound like a help-line worker.”
“Why, thank you.”, he grunted as he rushed me.

I was about to die. That repulsive thought made me throw up the only thing I had drunk – coffee.

Tumbler ceased to exist.

And that is how, my brand new T-Shirt was stained with coffee.

It reads ‘A one A one A one A one A one’.

Once such involved importing an oversize boomerang from Australia, throwing it around the globe and hoping it found its mark, usually your/your acquaintance’s mother-in-law. The chance that you might not be seeing the boomerang not hit your mother-in-law was very high. Thus, a big stone club was always handy in a self-defense situation. (When you hit, expect to be hit back. And back. And back.).

And so the fact remained that the sun was blue, the stones were pink, everyone loved a Beetle and men ate at McDonald’s, until, one blasphemous day, another blasphemous wildebeest on the Serengeti started to watch Animal Planet.

Slowly it dawned on .. it? him? … that they really should have got that Steve Irwin as their spokesperson. It also noticed the herbivores were being massacred for no good reason, and that the grass on the other side was not so lush afterall, and the carnivores got a much better paycheck (especially while on TV). Thus, it embarked on a journey to visit the Bahamas before the lions started stalking it in three-somes. Those were the days, when stalkers were real stalkers, the grass was high, you could touch the sky and get hit by a million volts of electricity and people would still tell you to switch off the fans before you went out.

The wildebeest, disheartened when the airlines refused to take on a quadruped who was black, shaggy, could’t wear a safety belt and was two horny, did not see they had a point or two and decided to follow the policy of ‘YEE-HAW’, setting up dung-traps all over the plains. These are usually referred to as crop circles. Of course, they were made by aliens. Everyone knows wildebeest originate from a mentos-with-coke experiment gone quite horribly wrong, even if I don’t say so myself.

Hijacking a terrorist plane by claiming to be a representative of the bovine overlord, RoadRage , it steered the plane to the south-pole, blew it up and landed with a reverse moon-walk and parachute not-so-unfurled. Here, it proceeded to hold the Zebra God as hostage, and was shot dead by the Rhinos, who discussed the matter jovially over a few mugs of iced coffee. The wildebeest had set a new world record by letting lose seventy-two swear words before five bullets punched into its skull. The rhinos were then poached for their horns which now reside at the bottom of a crater inside a space-shuttle bound for Earth. The forensic studies revealed that a very happy polar bear had been camping there for the past five summers, and that he was an die-hard supporter of Hull City.

He too was shot dead for not being a witness when the crime took place. There have been rumors that he was in fact murdered for smuggling hot cups of home made cocoa to the Poles to prevent the penguins from adapting to Frappy. That there were no summers in Antarctica did nothing to prevent Bugs Bunny from blowing a wily politcian back to the sales department.

This is, however, not his story.

Infact, this is not a story.

This completely-true-and-commonly-misunderstood-but-not-necessarily-relevant-statistic-phenomenon had the unfortunate misfortune of not occurring when it illogically should have been. This caused a lot of dissent among the scientists of the era, speeding up the process of Darwin becoming bald, until they were terminated by Ex for calling him a wuss. This is still celebrated today as the day of April’s Fool.

Ex(Latin: Chucks norricus) might even have been a fool, but he certainly wasn’t an April. That was why he felt like a joystick, being controlled by someone, knowing they were manipulating him by pushing buttons from all angles and aware of the fact that his rear was probably too wide for his not-so-rear parts of body. Why he felt so remains one of the greatest mysteries which will never have to be solved. That, however, was about to change.

He got a phone call from his imaginary friend at exactly 900 hours. How he knew this, too, remained a mystery until several Great White Sharks attested to glimpsing an analogously-digital-with-noodle-cooking-capability watch on his person. That was the last thing they saw before they ended up like this. This was considered hard evidence, after all, bone is a hard substance. The fact that ‘C.N. was here’ was found scribbled in crayons on their funny fins only helped that theory. As all theories, it was buried (in a graveyard, with a card saying ‘Too fishy to have been gutted’ from an anonymous caller) and everyone went back to watching Sportscenter Broadcast, and subsequently suffering break-downs on being told Chelsea won the title.

‘What do you want?’, Ex spoke to himself even as he opened the door to the street and man-handled a Boeing 747.
‘Uh, good morning.’ intoned the strange-for-the-audience voice in his head.
‘Sorry, that kind ran out of stock several years ago. What you want? You still want me to go see a psychologist?’. By now his supernatural powers were acting up and the Boeing 747 agreed to fall down to the ground and kill his house-keeper before she demanded he stopped the roof coming down.

Which it certainly did.

‘No. I was wondering if you had some kind of toothbrush?’
Ex rummaged inside the pilots’ cockpit before finding what he wanted – a credit card.
‘This do?’
‘No. Uhm, I think it says you need to try to swipe the other way.’
‘Well then. Jimmy, catch!’

Later that year, a lone credit-card was found clutched in the jaws of a dog, dead, amidst the wreckage. This made a certain rescue volunteer very rich.

Even later, it was found to be in his possession. This, made him dead.

* * *

It was a sultry day inside the office. If it could be called that. For the passer-by’s on the street, it seemed to be ‘Jonah’s Joint’, although none had figured out what was there to be joined. To them, it was just a broken down ramshackle and really inviting kind of place where they didn’t trespass, mainly due to the bloke with one eye and a bazooka standing on guard.

Ex strolled up the street before noticing that there was a guard on duty. His boss certainly made things harder nowadays. He quickly did a once over, and surveyed his arsenal. He had toilet paper, a newspaper, his voice-in-the-head, a hangover, and sixteen packs.

Walking up the yard, he stared the guard square in the eye. The one which could see, otherwise there’d be no point, would there?

‘Move’
‘Make me, nutcase.’
‘Oh yeah? I’ve got news for you.’
‘What? There’s a huge monster with only one eye and toilet paper with peanut butter and sauce behind me? Go on. Try me’

‘No hard feelings. I’ll make sure to come to your funeral.’

And just as the guard lifted up his bazooka to shoot, Ex flicked his toilet paper sending a projectile which neatly nestled inside the profile of the weapon, and stuffed the remaining paper into his ears. Norris toilet paper makes for a good shock-absorber. He proceeded to solved the day’s scrabble by tearing it up into fifty small pieces. This was over within three seconds, and having made sure that the bazooka was all right, he went in clutching his newfound weapon. He tried the door, which was the only thing left standing.

‘This is nothing personal, but I always hate the way your kind stand in my way.’
With that, he loosed two shells, demolishing the door and a section of the
wall directly ahead.

Ex sighed.

‘Oh. That’s where you are, master.’
His master, was playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare.

‘NUB! THAT WAS A HEADSHOT! Haha! Killing spree… Oh snap.. another of those snipers. Dang. Respawn already! … ‘
Ex had had enough depression for one day. He levelled the bazooka at his employer and said, ‘Why am I here?’.

‘Get me a glass of water. I need to get to that area to cover my team.’

‘I mean, why did you call me here?’

‘I wanted to see if an eight inch reinforced wall could withstand a bazooka blast. All in preparation for the next game, you see’.

‘You what? You mean you’ve been manipulating me all along?’

‘Don’t mention it, grandpa. Pass me that controller. I need to take over my teammate’s character’.

‘You son of a Dangerous Dave. I’m going to shoot your X-BOX 720 right now if you don’t pay my life insurance company $100,000.’

‘I do no such thing.’

‘No, you don’t.’

Ex proceeded to blow up the X-Box, and much of everything that was not nothing, before he went Bruce Lee on his master’s ass.

‘Where is the money?’
‘Money? You bloody Pacman!’
‘You’re a damn Mario too.’ Ex was running out of ideas fast
‘And I bet you play the Sims in your bed-room. Ooh! Look! You have toilet paper in your ears.’

Now, this really riled up Ex, for, he had never had the chance to try Sims, although he had heard much of it. The fact that he didn’t have a bed-room was just more reason to dispatch his boss.

‘Good game, nerd boy’.

His master melted in the heat even while he was mouthing, inconsequentially, the words ‘I DEMAND A REMATCH ON MY SERVER! HAXOR!’

Ex dusted himself, stepped out, or in, to the world outside. There he was confronted by his house-keeper.
‘I paid my rent’, he lied
‘RENT? You’re a bloody assassin!’
‘Am not!’ he wasn’t going to take this lying down
‘Yes are! That is the last blown up floor I’ll take. I evict you!’
‘No you won’t.’
‘Says?’
‘The dead body falling from the sky which will hit you in exactly point five six seconds’
‘You can’t get me with your under-handed tricks’.

The body of the guard blown to high heaven got her, all right. Soon she found herself in the company of the guard with one eye, moving very fast.

‘Am I an angel, Mr. Handsome?’
‘Yes you are.’
‘Am I going to heaven?’
‘Yes, and no’.
‘What?’
‘Well, God up there was having spinach and banana for dinner, and I asked him for a wish. I said I wanted to hang with my mates, and take my best pal along with me.’
‘You’re free to go, I’m sure I can fly now, Handsome’.
‘No missy. I decided you were much easier to take than old Fred’
‘You mean I’m going to hell?’

The guard laughed.

‘You mean you didn’t know that’s where the world is going to throw a party tonight?’
‘No. But is that true? You seem very well connected.’

And your a talented liar, thought the guard, for after all was said and done, ‘connected’ was not exactly the best way to describe him.

‘I bet I can teach Satan tap-dancing.’

* * *

And so it was that a bazooka without any rounds left was abandoned on the local dump site for ten years, until the case was taken up by activists for Dumb-Sentient equality, and weapon of war or not, it was taken to an hospital where it destroyed the Casuality Ward.

* * *

‘Most impressive, I must say. Such an impressive documentary, makes an impact and a statement. Yes, thats what I say.’.
‘Um, you mean I’m employed?’
‘Why certainly. You show remarkable talents for your age.’

Ex couldn’t fathom where he was, or indeed, who was speaking. One voice was familiar, but the other, he couldn’t spot in a pile of moose mush.

* * *

Conclusion: Zebra with faded jeans don’t exist.

Corollary: My offspring reserve the right to sue yours for no obvious reason.

I wear my sleazy garb, comb my hair (down, spikes are for ladies). Then I look in the mirror. Seems ugly. Looks like the servants didn’t bother to smack the roaches off. Hmm.

I also had a queasy feeling I was forgetting something. Ah, of course. The gift.

So I took my paper airplane, crushed it into my back pocket (Oops, I don’t have one. Nevermind, just know I made sure I had the gift with me)

I got to the warehouse. I knew it was the right one since we had ‘Cool Bar’ in bold lettering. So I got into the posh elevator, listened to the music, then proceeded to puke in the old woman’s face when the verticality stopped. Yes ma’am, I’ll take in more peanuts next time.

Hastily stuffing my yellow kerchief further into the fold of my trousers, I rushed in to find I was late. They were already playing games and I was the last person in! Damn.

They then said I could not join them in their fun. I was like, WHY?? I only …
But no, they didn’t even let me finish. The killing blow was dealt by a rather .. nice… girl. She said I had a face like a goat, then proceeded to reunite with the Ring-a-ring-of-roses crew.

You might think I would be heartbroken. I chewed my nails. Ate my socialite textbook. Then sniffled. She had the looks. And such awesome dress…

Too bad she was only 24 years younger than me.

So I was like, this would be interesting, when some kid with a conical hat and a megaphone with a bazooka in one hand said, rite’ now its the oldies turn!

Finally! I got my chance to sneak in unnoticed. I think they called this musical chairs. I was pretty good, since I was too slow to move and never got caught. Eventually, I won.

Guess what?

No. I just had won the exclusive right… to… wait for it!….

Clean the dishes. And pay tip the waitress(es).

Tough luck? I grabbed my share of drinks and sat down on the haystack.

Just as I got cosy. I was rudely awaken. I would need to sing.

happy birthday to joo! m3y g4wd bl3ss j00 d34r3!
Hippie B0td3yy!! 7o0000! JOOOOOO!

Smack! The next thing I know, I’m face down with currant all over my face. Sinister looking girls (and boys, but we’re only talking ’bout whats important) grabbed knives. I tried to manage a weak *honey?*

One look at the hag’s face helped me make my mind. I stumbled to my feet and began pleading…

But no, they would have none of it. One particularly ugly female dog lunged toward me, and hit her mark.

Oooh the pain! The DAMN pain! It was a soft *chink*. Hot knife went through butter.

And emerged on the other side. My plane.. my very own.. handcrafted… recycled plastic… PLANE! It didn’t matter that it ain’t gonna carry a needle.
Or it was misshapen. Or it didn’t fly.

All that mattered was I didn’t have a gift.
And TEDDY knew it too. He saw the whole incident. And he was angry. Real angry.

As Ted started to ascend to Super Saiyan Three, complete with bear tail, I turned into jelly.

I frantically look around, and spot an exit. My path home.

I made a dash for it, holding the precious remains of the plane. All the while, I was attacked by them hags and other hags and then some. I managed to slip three times (guess whose lucky?) and fall splotch into the middle of a puddle of ketchup.

The door was in front of me. The teddybear was behind me. I always manage climaxes. Quite inconvenient.

BAM! The foot crashed down into the pool and I was riding a blood tsunami. The landings gonna hurt.

I needn’t state the obvious. It certainly did. Teddy reached down to grab me.
You know, evil red glowing eyes. Maniacally grinning, complete with a brown tuft of hair on its head. Heck, it even had stiches running across its face.

I grabbed at the door, it was locked. Oh shit. Then I remembered something.. I began singing the Rime of the Ancient mariner in the highest pitch I could….

It was close. The lock rattled… not quite broken… Ted readied himself for a second swipe with its limbs… the hags jumped over my shoulder…

And grabbed me!

The lock broke just then, and I shoved the door forward to bask in the white light! I made it!

Oh. There she was. My cousin.

‘Hey there sis, heres you’re birthday present! A talking teddy!’

And the rest is history

Who is looking forward to the new year?

Alrite, you can see how totally bored I am by this post.