Dumbass Bitch

Decibels lowered

Expectations hightened

Chasing and haunted

Electrodes inserted

Bitch, I just fucked you.

Without any soliciting

Stop moaning, you whore,

This ain’t counselling.

A speeding truck is all I need,

To stop this shit blow up like weed.

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Turban troubles: A not so metaphorical true story.

PG18

*All the characters are real, the names haven’t been changed*

Once upon a time, a young whore was born out of, probably a wedlock. The young whore was braindead at birth. Her eyes looked North and she saw South. Her teeth grew like a heavily fertilised cornfield, too many to line up in the jaw. She went to school and did not pay attention to the teachers, but instead kept admiring her fingernails.

As the young whore grew, her grassy hair grew and she learnt a thing or two about tying them into a whorilicious way. She learned about co-ordinating skirts with blouses and hot pants with tank tops. She attended a “fashion school” to learn this. As she reached her 20s, her hemline went higher and higher and the neckline went deeper and deeper. Despite this, the little whore was not able to walk, talk and act like a whore because she was trapped in a family who lived by the book.

One day, as the whore was juggling jobs as a showgirl juggling her boobs, a young, lost soul caught her eyes. She spread her legs wide open and immediately the lost soul decided to marry her to be the sole owner of those legs and that body. The lost soul started out humble but worked hard and reached places in life which the whore had never heard of.

Being free from the shackles of her family, she started her Babylonian epic whore journey, spreading her unfertilised eggs, from one man to another. In the meantime, the lost soul was clueless about his little whore’s business and loved her dearly and showered her with the latest gadgets. iPhone, myphone, a lot of phones were given to her to communicate with her.

But alas! the lost soul failed to see that the little whore was guzzling wine and beer like a parched whale and making other lost souls fall from heaven like Lucifer. The elixir of alcohol went to her braindead head and she looked in the mirror and saw a demigoddess. She levitated with a delusional delight and her feet never touched the ground. Of course, her knees did a lot of groundwork, performing fellatio on any male genitals that came her way. At one point there was also an equally braindead whore who decided to facilitate each other’s deviant desires while the lost soul looked on.

A decade passed by and the whore decided that she needed to mess around with more genitals. She moved to another country seeking cheaper wine and cigarettes and gullible middle-aged men. Her eyes had gone puffy, her voice had grown hoarser, and she was still grotesquely attractive to men. Another dumbass lost soul came her way and they fornicated each other’s brains out, not that there was much to lose to begin with. The dumbass had a star by his side who guided him back to his heaven. The whore kept on luring him back in, and the guardian angels stopped him many a times.

The star that stood by the lost soul’s side while he vomited the germs passed on by the whore, was mangled up, smashed and left at the curb side, begging for help from a child. At last the lost soul opened his eyes and saw the light. He gave his star his American Express Platinum card and the star transformed into Superwoman overnight. Superwoman shouted a lot, because she was dealing with dumbasses and the dumbasses paid no heed to the words and registered the noise as abuse. (*eye roll)

After much deliberation and debates between his brain and phallus, the lost soul decided that the star was indeed right and decided to follow her path. There were slip-ups, mind you, but the star stood her ground. One day, the whore lured the lost soul into a seedy watering hole and filled him to the brim with alcohol. Then, the little whore produced a pack of cigarettes that were hidden in her ass crack and they both smoked like an industrial chimney. They rolled home in their carriage, drunk as skunk and slapped the star across her face.

Now the star got very very angry and decided to bulldoze the whore once and for all. Collected but uncalm within, the star hatched a plan to demolish the harlot. After multiple attempts, she succeeded; first crushing her sunglasses, next crushing her head which was quite easy as there was nothing within and finally, crushing the whore entirely with a speeding truck. The star smiled with a deep sigh of relief and told the lost souls, both of them, “And that’s how you kill a whore.”

The End

Like a pillar,

That can blink.

But cannot move.

Goes around the focus,

But never in focus.

Take me over,

Guitars and cymbals.

I have love to give.

I know not where.

My head spins,

I jive.

The mother and children,

They wait.

To sleep and forget.

The agony.

Clouds in sky,

Clouds in mind,

Rain in blue.

Thirty four years,

And four years.

Intertwined.

The love, for two men.

Dotted by tears and smiles.

Happy and sad,

Part of life.

If death comes by,

I am camera ready.

Road Rage

This morning, unlike any other morning, I found myself stuck in a bumper-to-bumper traffic jelly; not a jam, a traffic jelly. I don’t get out much, what with the NOx and the general laziness and the outside not having much to offer, so when I do get out, I get very anxious. Accompanied by a 4 year-old who already has political views, I set out for the journey, equipped with all the gear a mom needs; Hot Wheels, juice boxes, snack boxes, snot-rags, and a teddy bear that the 4 year-old has adopted as his son. He is already proving to be a better parent than me, giving the teddy bear fresh fruit instead of boxed juices and making him a “pretend” hot home-cooked meal and brushing his “pretend” teeth, twice a day. And he reads to him too, from a book; Unlike me, I just make up stories.

So, back to the traffic. I saw most people in agony. There was honking and arm-waving and finger blowing and name calling and a lot of F-bombs dropping. I sat back and enjoyed the traffic jelly. It was fun to watch, everyone was late for work, everyone wanted to get there faster than the others, and nobody looked like they actually wanted to get to work. What were they all trying to get to? Once everyone is at work, don’t they just keep checking the time to see if it’s 5 PM yet? I know I did that and a lot of people I worked with did that. So I am going out on a limb here and say that everyone does that. Those who don’t, either work from home or actually like what they do. (Hahaha.. like there’s any money in that!)

While I was feeding one of my OCD habit of reading the license plates of every car in my line-of-sight, I noticed those poor environmentalists, who were pedalling along on their bikes, helmet and knee-pads and biking shorts and the whole ensemble. Saving the environment, working out at the same time – good on them! I couldn’t help thinking how much impact their efforts would have in the long run. For every bike, there must have been twenty cars or more. That environmentalist was breathing in pure ob-NOx-ious fumes. Not to mention, those bikes look so fragile, a monstrosity of a car can knock them down by just being around. The green warriors are trying so hard, one plastic bag at a time, and most of us do nothing. I mean, we are even killing WHALES! And those mammals are huge, and yet we found a way to destroy them. People destroy everything. (And my rants start now…) Even my 4 year-old said, “Just look at this country!” He does not understand country and state and continent and division as such, he just picked it up from his father, but he was spot on with the timing. He, in fact, pacifies his raging father when the latter is driving and yelling, “These idiots need to learn how to drive!” by chiming in, “Please Daddy, the idiots also need to get home.” Some kick-ass parenting, huh?

So, to sum it up, I lost my train of thoughts now, and the sparks of brilliance that had illuminated my mind back in the traffic, are gone. So I leave you with this:

So if I stand in front of a speeding car
Would you tell me who you are, what you like?
What’s on your mind, if I’d get it right?
How I love that no one knows
And these secrets all that we’ve got so far
The demons in the dark, lie again
Play pretends like it never ends
This way no one has to know
Even the half smile would have slowed down the time
If I could call you half mine
Maybe this is the safest way to go
We’re singing
Heya heya heya heya
Heya, heya heya
This is the safest way to go nobody gets hurt
We’re singing
Heya heya heya heya
Heya, heya heya
You go back to him and then I’ll go back to her
So if I stand in front of a speeding car
Would you give your little heart?
Say the word?
Due to just me and you
This way everyone will know
‘Cause these secrets all that we’ve got so far
The demons in the dark, lie again
Play pretends like it never ends
This way no one has to know
Even the half smile would have slowed down the time
If I could call you half mine
Maybe this is the safest way to go
We’re singing
Heya heya heya heya
Heya, heya heya
This is the safest way to go nobody gets hurt
We’re singing
Heya heya heya heya
Heya, heya heya
You go back to him and then I’ll go back to her
So if I stand in front of a speeding car
Would you tell me who you are, what you like?
What’s on your mind, if I’d get it right?
How I love that no one knows
These secrets all that we’ve got so far
The demons in the dark, lie again
Play pretends like it never ends
How I love that no one knows
Advertise my secret
I don’t really need it
I know you can feel this
So advertise my secret
I don’t really need it
I know you can feel this
So advertise my
Advertise my secret
We’re singing
Heya heya heya heya
Heya, heya heya
This is the safest way to go nobody gets hurt
We’re singing
Heya heya heya heya
Heya, heya heya
You go back to him and then I’ll go back to her
If I stand in front of a speeding car
Don’t know who you are
Don’t know who you are
Heya heya heya heya
Heya, heya heya
You go back to him and then I’ll go back to her
Songwriters: Daniel Joseph Devane / Sorcha Durham / Paul Stephen Flannery / Evan William Hadnett / Patrick Gerald Sheehy
I don’t know why I added that, but I found the video to this song completely unrelated to the song. So makes sense. If someone out there can explain the relation of the song to the video, that’d be great. Thank You! And oh yes, one more thing, do not drink and drive, keep those two separate. You can drink water, juices, soda, things like that, but you’d have to make pit-stops to go to the bathroom. So, it’d be better to not drink anything and drive. You can always Uber!

Grill – Dumb Questions Answered

Once upon a time, I lived under a rock. When I decided to rock out, I was faced with a lot of unfamiliarity. I didn’t know things. So I made this list of questions that popped in my head and researched and found these simple answers:

 

What is Easy Listening? – When your ears have to do no work, the music seeps in the brain.

What is Continental Food? – Food derived from the continents.

What is Country Music? – Music from, get this, not countries, but pastoral settings.

What is Comfort Food? – Food that makes you fat, so in essence, DELICIOUS!

What is Sugar Rush? – Have a palmful or more of candies and wait.

What is Unfriend? – Facebook version of *blowing raspberries* at someone

What is Like? – Facebook version of paying attention to someone.

What is #metoo? – Me too was part of this altercation, man!

What is trending? – Everyone, except you, is talking about it.

Who owns the Internet? – Hmmm… Google? Amazon? Apple? I don’t know, I don’t.

What are cookies? – One kind can be eaten, others stay on your computer.

What is #hashtag? – ALT+35; symbol used to set something in motion on the internet.

What is Skrillex? – You’d be amazed, its a person!

What is Gender Fluid?– People, just being people.

What is Instagram, Spotify, Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook, Reddit, Pinterest, Tumblr, et al? – Any new made-up words you come across are an app, or a website or something to do with internet.

What is app? – An application, online application, like Candy Crush. Not the kind to apply for a loan or a grant. Although there are online application forms for loans and whatnot, but those are not called apps.

What are bots? – Laziness has taken over and “robots” are shortened to bots. A lot has been shortened. BRB, IMO, TTYL, YOLO, AFAIK, SOV, ROFL.. the list is looooong.

What are emoticons? –  :-),  ;-), :-(, :-B… they started like this and now there are emoticons for which there are no words.

Why these questions? – I really didn’t know! I Googled and got answers.

 

*** No offence to anyone. I’m just old. *grin face*