There was this girl who came to me, told me she loved me.
That's a story you read somewhere else, not here not now.
Did you hear the one about how I nearly got involved in a multi million dollar birthday cake scandal, which very nearly landed me up in a jail?
I think not. The news papers and reporters were snubbed down so they won't report the incident. This girl who had passed her matriculate exam famously was behind everything. She received an award of accolade direct from the then chief minister for this (passing the exam famously, not for being behind everything)
First a flashback:
(woing woing woing woing woing...)
It all really began on a rainy day in late 19 _ _, when young Thomas pinched his beautiful wife Tracy when no one was looking. Tracy turned and looked at him embarrassed, blushed and pinched him right back (“Take that my naughty little husband who behaves naughtily and pinches me when my back was turned just for an instant! Ha!”). And you think our young Thomaskutty, who is in the prime of his life, would stay silent after she pulls a stunt like this? No way would he stay quiet, and quite understandably too. One thing led to another and a beep-bata-bap-bita-boom, after nine months Jenny Thomas was born on Aug 23, 19 _ _.
Cut to present time, a few months back:
(woing woing woing woing woing...)
Now the year is 200_, and it is August 23 again. Jenny subtly let her colleagues know that it was her birthday (“and you lot better celebrate and make it special!”). Her colleagues promptly conjured up a birthday cake, candles, a 6" knife and party hats. Then they all gathered around in the pantry to celebrate. The cake was cut, the song was sung and a face was painted. Everything went ahead as the birthday girl had *ahem* planned.
Except, this one girl was missing, who had gone to dance horribly in a dance program.
When we were singing ‘happy birthday dear Jennnyyyy’ in chorus, she was messing up her steps in order. When we were greedily gobbling up the birthday cake, her audience were going booo and throwing tomatoes.
When we were kis… oh shmuck it. You get the picture. We were all celebrating and being merry at one place, and this girl was dancing horribly at another place. If this were a movie, the screen would show us singing, and then cut to her mismatching her steps. Cut back to face-painting in pantry, then cut to dance stage with boos from audience.
Pantry, stage ... stage, pantry.
Anyway, Jenny went home happy, everyone else also went home full, I stayed back, I had some work. At this time this dancing girl marched up to my desk (she was understandably tired and upset), interrupted me and demanded her share of the cake which she had somehow expected her mates to keep aside for her.
***************************************** B r e a k *****************************************
There is a girl who is truly in love with me
There is a girl who is madly in love with me
There is a girl who is deeply in love with me
Now I wonder, what would happen if all three girls met?
*************************************** Back to the story ***************************************
The girl was frantically looking everywhere for her piece of the cake. This sight broke my heart – here was a girl, fairly plump who was searching everywhere desperately for food, that too in present day relatively hunger-free India.
Now the girl looked up and saw me lost in my above mentioned thoughts & philosophical juggernauts, and immediately started accusing me of wolfing down and gobbling up her share of the cake without leaving even a crumb for her. Her share was rightfully hers she said. She became hysterical. Some people later said this is where the theatrical million dollar scandal began scandalizing.
The theatrics involved:
· Stomping down her feet in quick succession
· Filling tears in her eyes
· Crying “mo-o-mmmmy-y-y-y” and the likes.
She also snatched my wallet and said she would not give it back unless she got at least a pastry in return.
She purposefully missed the last bus (with obvious plans on me dropping her home) and made me buy her pastries as compensation (in the middle of the night). While she was ravenously eating up the pastries in a near-empty bakery sitting next to a seemingly harmless guy, my mind took a naughty turn and started devising plans for violating her rights (which I didn’t put into action. Apparently I WAS harmless).
I called up a friend to drop her home since I was not too confident with my driving skills (my bike was brand new. I hadn't spent enough time getting accustomed to the ways of The Motor Bike then; but now I'm a dare devil on wheels (again, another story another time)), but she was insistent on me dropping her myself and blah blah blah, I ended up saying ok ok I'll be your driver tonight. I drove the best I could considering there was a fairly plump dancing girl on pillion, which, incidentally was like a drunkard on heroin driving zig n zag n zig n zag.. The friend I mentioned at the beginning of this very paragraph had come along as escort for her royal highness and moral support for his royal majesty (me mee meee).
So we finally reached her place, and before she went inside, she turned and looked at me and smiled a sweet little smile.
That smile was probably worth more than a million dollars.
(hence the involvement of million dollars in the scandal)
Two months later, on another girl’s birthday, outside her place on the verandah of a nearby shop near midnight, she sat next to me, shed some tears on me and told me she loved me.
But then again, that’s another story.
That's a story you read somewhere else, not here not now.
Did you hear the one about how I nearly got involved in a multi million dollar birthday cake scandal, which very nearly landed me up in a jail?
I think not. The news papers and reporters were snubbed down so they won't report the incident. This girl who had passed her matriculate exam famously was behind everything. She received an award of accolade direct from the then chief minister for this (passing the exam famously, not for being behind everything)
First a flashback:
(woing woing woing woing woing...)
It all really began on a rainy day in late 19 _ _, when young Thomas pinched his beautiful wife Tracy when no one was looking. Tracy turned and looked at him embarrassed, blushed and pinched him right back (“Take that my naughty little husband who behaves naughtily and pinches me when my back was turned just for an instant! Ha!”). And you think our young Thomaskutty, who is in the prime of his life, would stay silent after she pulls a stunt like this? No way would he stay quiet, and quite understandably too. One thing led to another and a beep-bata-bap-bita-boom, after nine months Jenny Thomas was born on Aug 23, 19 _ _.
Cut to present time, a few months back:
(woing woing woing woing woing...)
Now the year is 200_, and it is August 23 again. Jenny subtly let her colleagues know that it was her birthday (“and you lot better celebrate and make it special!”). Her colleagues promptly conjured up a birthday cake, candles, a 6" knife and party hats. Then they all gathered around in the pantry to celebrate. The cake was cut, the song was sung and a face was painted. Everything went ahead as the birthday girl had *ahem* planned.
Except, this one girl was missing, who had gone to dance horribly in a dance program.
When we were singing ‘happy birthday dear Jennnyyyy’ in chorus, she was messing up her steps in order. When we were greedily gobbling up the birthday cake, her audience were going booo and throwing tomatoes.
When we were kis… oh shmuck it. You get the picture. We were all celebrating and being merry at one place, and this girl was dancing horribly at another place. If this were a movie, the screen would show us singing, and then cut to her mismatching her steps. Cut back to face-painting in pantry, then cut to dance stage with boos from audience.
Pantry, stage ... stage, pantry.
Anyway, Jenny went home happy, everyone else also went home full, I stayed back, I had some work. At this time this dancing girl marched up to my desk (she was understandably tired and upset), interrupted me and demanded her share of the cake which she had somehow expected her mates to keep aside for her.
***************************************** B r e a k *****************************************
There is a girl who is truly in love with me
There is a girl who is madly in love with me
There is a girl who is deeply in love with me
Now I wonder, what would happen if all three girls met?
*************************************** Back to the story ***************************************
The girl was frantically looking everywhere for her piece of the cake. This sight broke my heart – here was a girl, fairly plump who was searching everywhere desperately for food, that too in present day relatively hunger-free India.
Now the girl looked up and saw me lost in my above mentioned thoughts & philosophical juggernauts, and immediately started accusing me of wolfing down and gobbling up her share of the cake without leaving even a crumb for her. Her share was rightfully hers she said. She became hysterical. Some people later said this is where the theatrical million dollar scandal began scandalizing.
The theatrics involved:
· Stomping down her feet in quick succession
· Filling tears in her eyes
· Crying “mo-o-mmmmy-y-y-y” and the likes.
She also snatched my wallet and said she would not give it back unless she got at least a pastry in return.
She purposefully missed the last bus (with obvious plans on me dropping her home) and made me buy her pastries as compensation (in the middle of the night). While she was ravenously eating up the pastries in a near-empty bakery sitting next to a seemingly harmless guy, my mind took a naughty turn and started devising plans for violating her rights (which I didn’t put into action. Apparently I WAS harmless).
I called up a friend to drop her home since I was not too confident with my driving skills (my bike was brand new. I hadn't spent enough time getting accustomed to the ways of The Motor Bike then; but now I'm a dare devil on wheels (again, another story another time)), but she was insistent on me dropping her myself and blah blah blah, I ended up saying ok ok I'll be your driver tonight. I drove the best I could considering there was a fairly plump dancing girl on pillion, which, incidentally was like a drunkard on heroin driving zig n zag n zig n zag.. The friend I mentioned at the beginning of this very paragraph had come along as escort for her royal highness and moral support for his royal majesty (me mee meee).
So we finally reached her place, and before she went inside, she turned and looked at me and smiled a sweet little smile.
That smile was probably worth more than a million dollars.
(hence the involvement of million dollars in the scandal)
Two months later, on another girl’s birthday, outside her place on the verandah of a nearby shop near midnight, she sat next to me, shed some tears on me and told me she loved me.
But then again, that’s another story.
1 Responses to “A Romantic Comedy”
Leave a Reply
About me
- I'm suresh
- From trivandrum, bangalore, mysore, India
- read the posts!!
- My profile
[url=http://isabellemarrant.webs.com/isabel-marant-sneakers]baskets isabelle marant[/url]
[url=http://isabelmarant01.hpage.co.in/isabel_marant_91294955.html]isabel marrant[/url]
[url=http://isabellemarrant.yolasite.com/]isabel marant shop online[/url]
http://isabellemarrant.snappages.com/isabel-marant-suede.htm
http://isabelmarant01.hpage.com/
http://isabellemarant.hpage.com/