Everything was perfect about that day. The sun was in the right direction, there was no sign of clouds, the traffic was pushing along at the speed of 20 and random men were staring at random women irrespective of their age, size or beauty. It was on a day like this that I, brace yourself, stepped into Shit.
It was some sort of Marxian dialectics happening that day. The conflict between the ideal and the real landed me into some solid human waste.
After the most satisfying workout, I stepped out of the gym, happy that I made it the second time in two weeks (okay I work night shifts and early mornings have stopped challenging me anymore. Its only early afternoon). The plan ahead was quite clear in my head. Reach home, take a bath, eat, get ready and push off to work. I took out my cell phone to call up my mother, who refused to visit me because of the new threat to human existence rampant in the city .
It was in that moment, when my eyes switched from road to the cell phone screen, that shit happened.
The SMS from my service provider reprimanded me for crossing my usage limit and then as if punishing me for ignoring the warning, they send another message telling me that my STD (the one related to telecommunications. Please!), had been blocked.
My face at this point of time bore the most hideous expression. The forehead was wrinkled as usual, nose scrounged up, mouth half open in disbelief and eyes wide yet narrowed in anger. Of course my left had was up in the air completing my surprised and disgusted look. My legs were the only ones not participating in this exercise. As if in an attempt to make its presence felt, my left foot suddenly landed into something plauchy, pasty and later I realised, decomposed.
The erstwhile hideous expression got even better. My body froze with my head turning back and looking down at my left foot incredulously. Oh Shit! I exclaimed! And that’s what it was, deep yellow and partially black blob of human bowel, disfigured by my left foot which was resting on it.
Surprisingly, more than my foot, it was the sight of my brand new Puma floaters in direct contact with that ‘thing’ which made my temper rise. Whoever unloaded themselves in the middle of the footpath was definitely not getting good ‘movements’ for a few days.
Well what had to happen had to happen. It was time to move on. I pulled my foot out and dragged it on the pavement to get rid of the extra, loose pasty element on it. Of course a lot of it was already embedded on the sole which could only be dealt with at home. I walked back home with a deeper frown on my forehead, not knowing what was worse, landing into someones insides or not being able to make STD calls.
As soon as I got home I took of the blessed pair of floaters, which now I realised smelled repulsive, and put them under hot water. But why would it all come out on its own. Everyone likes to enjoy their tiny moment of glory over someones despair, so why would this thing which we usually flush down everyday not act up!
“Fine!” I thought and took my toothbrush which needed change and started scrubbing the thing out. The toothbrush was definitely in for a huge shock. So far it carried nice smelling toothpastes, into the mouth and got washed after being used. Suddenly the poor fellow was vigorously scraping out something which is usually in a place diametrically opposite to the mouth and would soon land in the dustbin.
Any how, after hours of scrubbing and scrapping it was all out of my floaters and back to where it belonged, the drain. My floaters looking even cleaner than before were out in the sun to finally end their traumatic experience with shit. I still had loads to do, clean the bathroom, take a bath, eat and figure out what footwear to wear to office.
The shit is out of my floaters now but the one in life seems to be of some other variety. Guess I have to buy a new brand of toothbrush to scrub it out totally.
Can’t wait to dry myself in the sun!
It was some sort of Marxian dialectics happening that day. The conflict between the ideal and the real landed me into some solid human waste.
After the most satisfying workout, I stepped out of the gym, happy that I made it the second time in two weeks (okay I work night shifts and early mornings have stopped challenging me anymore. Its only early afternoon). The plan ahead was quite clear in my head. Reach home, take a bath, eat, get ready and push off to work. I took out my cell phone to call up my mother, who refused to visit me because of the new threat to human existence rampant in the city .
It was in that moment, when my eyes switched from road to the cell phone screen, that shit happened.
The SMS from my service provider reprimanded me for crossing my usage limit and then as if punishing me for ignoring the warning, they send another message telling me that my STD (the one related to telecommunications. Please!), had been blocked.
My face at this point of time bore the most hideous expression. The forehead was wrinkled as usual, nose scrounged up, mouth half open in disbelief and eyes wide yet narrowed in anger. Of course my left had was up in the air completing my surprised and disgusted look. My legs were the only ones not participating in this exercise. As if in an attempt to make its presence felt, my left foot suddenly landed into something plauchy, pasty and later I realised, decomposed.
The erstwhile hideous expression got even better. My body froze with my head turning back and looking down at my left foot incredulously. Oh Shit! I exclaimed! And that’s what it was, deep yellow and partially black blob of human bowel, disfigured by my left foot which was resting on it.
Surprisingly, more than my foot, it was the sight of my brand new Puma floaters in direct contact with that ‘thing’ which made my temper rise. Whoever unloaded themselves in the middle of the footpath was definitely not getting good ‘movements’ for a few days.
Well what had to happen had to happen. It was time to move on. I pulled my foot out and dragged it on the pavement to get rid of the extra, loose pasty element on it. Of course a lot of it was already embedded on the sole which could only be dealt with at home. I walked back home with a deeper frown on my forehead, not knowing what was worse, landing into someones insides or not being able to make STD calls.
As soon as I got home I took of the blessed pair of floaters, which now I realised smelled repulsive, and put them under hot water. But why would it all come out on its own. Everyone likes to enjoy their tiny moment of glory over someones despair, so why would this thing which we usually flush down everyday not act up!
“Fine!” I thought and took my toothbrush which needed change and started scrubbing the thing out. The toothbrush was definitely in for a huge shock. So far it carried nice smelling toothpastes, into the mouth and got washed after being used. Suddenly the poor fellow was vigorously scraping out something which is usually in a place diametrically opposite to the mouth and would soon land in the dustbin.
Any how, after hours of scrubbing and scrapping it was all out of my floaters and back to where it belonged, the drain. My floaters looking even cleaner than before were out in the sun to finally end their traumatic experience with shit. I still had loads to do, clean the bathroom, take a bath, eat and figure out what footwear to wear to office.
The shit is out of my floaters now but the one in life seems to be of some other variety. Guess I have to buy a new brand of toothbrush to scrub it out totally.
Can’t wait to dry myself in the sun!
Am impressed shitloads (no pun intended).
ReplyDeleteShould make a scrubber to rid the brain of shit. The device should be inserted through one ear and taken out through the other.
P.S. : How can I be sure that you were talking about the "right" type of STD?
nice idea sam.. i shall be your guniea pig for this one. condsidering there is so much shit in my head! and it is the right type of STD. because i said so!
ReplyDelete