Vague Fetish from the 90s

If i ever get a lady gimp, I'd make it wear the same clothes and make it dance the same steps as Rohini does in this video, while this song is being blasted in the background, till the eejit gimp begins to limp.

The Ill-Fated Mr.Kotresh

I plan to write a two part story about an ill-fated Mr. Kotresh. I know not of his future but now Kotresh ,on a hospital bed, is holding his testicles in a vice grip, reminiscing the series of unfortunate incidents that unfolded upon him (rather cruelly) on the 24^th of April 2002.

He had been visiting his toilet far too often then. Diarrhoea, you guess!! Nah. It was his arse. It never felt empty.

Strange things were being reported in the papers that April. The Times of India spoke of the death of a certain someone, they, with their usual air of apathy, nicknamed “Piddler on the roof”. Mr. Rao –the piddler had not been able to squeeze the last drop of piddle out of his you-know-what. This gave him a rather nasty itch in the region. Mr. Rao had gone crazy trying. He was seen frequenting the terrace. People believed he did so to hide his shame. But little did they know that Mr. Rao was very seriously contemplating jumping off the roof. The only problem being he was overcome by an urge to pee every time he tried. Soon he stopped the intake of fluids. He even carried a desiccator around with him and as soon he went dry as a Bombay Duck he jumped. Needless to say, Mr. Rao succeeded in his attempt.

In The Hindu- an article about planetary alignment that was to happen on the 24^th of April. Kotresh tightened his grip on them danglers. They aligned themselves along the axis of his piddler. “Planetary Alignment!” he chuckled to himself.

It was as if a rebellious piece of turd (Bas-turd he called it) had quite comfortably tucked itself into an inaccessible recess in his rectum, refusing to budge. He sat for hours on, trying to push this last nuisance ounce of excrement out. But this piece-of-shit had its own ideas. At night Bas-turd came to life, it tickled nerve endings, drew letters on the walls of anal canals, as if trying to communicate with him. Our protagonist, Shri Kotresh, was at first nonplussed, but after several days of having letters scribbled on his viscera, he gave in (midnight, the 23^rd of April). He sat on his commode with a paper and a pencil, noting down Bas-turd’s dicta.

“H I . M R . S T O O L . M Y N A M E “said Turd.

Kotresh wondered how he could communicate back. Twenty minutes hence he was swallowing a Rupee 1 coin with his name written on it. Soon the coin would meet Mr.Stool and the two would have formally begun a dialogue, thought he. To Kotresh’s misfortune Mr.Stool, the fox, kept the coin for himself. Kotresh now swallowed another two warning Mr. Stool of the dire consequences of his actions. These coins too were promptly retained in Stool’s niche. Now his arse felt heavier than before. Kotresh thought long and hard and sent down one more coin that read “Truce. Let’s shake hands”.

“V E R Y W E L L” said Stool.

Kotresh in an attempt at Rectal Rectitude sent his left arm up his bowels, past the sphincter into his rectum.

He extended his hand roughly in the direction of Stool. Then there was an unbearable tingle in his rear (not different from the tingle people get when they clean their arses with fresh ganja leaves). His nervous system went berserk in its entirety. His head was filled with a spate of signals. His eyeballs began to twitch. They then traveled to the opposite corners of his eyes and now his brain received two sets of visual data. “The apocalypse!!” cried a soothsayer with his budbudke “The planetary alignment shall herald the end of this world and all of its worldly inhabitants”. All of this was just too much to handle for Kotresh. There was momentary lapse of reason and he took a wild swipe at Stool and his three coins. By his actions Kotresh had now revealed to Stool his true intention in entering his citadel.

Meanwhile, Stool seeking to escape Kotresh’s left arm, dug deeper into his rectum. The deeper went Stool, deeper went Kotresh’s arm. Then all of a sudden Kotresh felt his rectum stop growing. He now knew he had Stool cornered. Then came the mother-of-all swipes. Thwack!! A crippling pain shot through Kotresh’s crotch. Kotresh inadvertently drew his hand of his anus and fell unconscious. He had had his victory alright, Stool was knocked dead (seconds after his death, Shri Stool turned into fluid goo and oozed out of Kotresh), but something had changed in Kotresh. Women would now see him in a different light…

To be continued.

David must be Lynched!!

I have been watching a helluva lot of movies lately; most of them, winners of the Golden Palm at Cannes or the Academy Award for the Best Foreign Language Film category. Classics like Kurosawa’s Kagemusha, Dersu Uzala, The Hidden Fortress, The Tin Drum, War and Peace, Der Untergang, Fellini’s La Strada, The Manchurian Candidate, Alfonso Cuarón’s Y Tu Mama Tambien, Kamal Hassan’s Devar Magan etc. I can go on but I’m sure the aforementioned list is sufficient to have given you a complex. Knowing me you would probably gather that I was pretty kicked, having crossed off a big bunch of movies from my ‘must watch’ list. I then decided in this fit of movie mania that I would download every movie that ever won a Golden Palm (which isn’t by any distance a bad decision). The first on the list was David Lynch’s “Wild at Heart”. A Lynch movie that won a Palme d’Or!!! You don’t get that too often, do you? Assuming that this movie was an exception to the ‘Lynch will piss you off’ rule or the more ubiquitous ‘I did not understand the movie, but it’s alright, I aint that intelligent’ rule, I downloaded it.

Now, having seen this (what do I call it? oh yes!! movie) movie, (I will keep the adjectives for later) I will in the following section give you 5 good reasons to watch “Wild at Heart”.

Wow 1) Nicholas Cage!!

Wow 2) The female from Jurassic Park!!! Ya the one who sticks who her finger in dino poop!! Her?? Yup her!! She’s naked in this movie!! Her name is irrelevant.

Wow 3) Willem Defoe playing the psychopathic assassin.

Wow 4) Mr. Reindeer, a mysterious mob boss who is surrounded by (you guessed it right!!) topless nymphs.

Wow 5) The OST has ‘Wicked Games’ by Chris Isaack

Spoiler Warning: The following section contains information that will discourage you from viewing this movie.

The film opens in Cape Fear, where Sailor (Cage) is accosted by a random nigger threatening to kill him. The nigger is then beaten to death in full public view, for which Sailor is rightly sent to jail. 22months and 18 days later, Sailor is out of jail. Lula and Sailor beat the probation and head for California. Marietta, Lula’s psychotic mom (who hires the nigger to kill Sailor after he rejects a lewd offer from her) sends out Johnnie (her lover), a private eye, to bring Lula back. While Johnnie is out in New Orleans looking for the runaway couple, Marietta brings in Santos, a sinister mobster to find Lula and kill Sailor. Much to Marietta’s chagrin Santos agrees to kill Sail on the condition that she must allow him to polish off Johnnie too. Reason: Santos is also in love with the hag. Santos then contacts Mysterious Mr.Reindeer to do the job. Mr.Reindeer is a hitman who employs topless valets and a bunch of ritual killers. During one of their several ‘sexy times’ Lula narrates the story of her cousin Dell to Sail. Dell is a nervous wreck who wants everyday to be Christmas. He makes sandwiches and puts cockroaches in his underwear to relieve himself off this anxiety (see fig). I found this flashback particularly disgusting and utterly pointless. The movie is rife with other such futile attempts at iconography, that tend to frustrate the viewer to a point where one does not know whether the scene he is watching is of any significance to the plot or not.

Coming back to the plot, Marietta calls Johnnie, who is already in New Orleans, to warn him of the impending danger. During this conversation Marietta smears her face with red lipstick and then dunks her head in the commode for no particular reason. Yet another demonstration of effective methods of wasting celluloid. Cut!! Marietta is with Johnnie in New Orleans urging him to leave with her that very night. Johnnie is then abducted by the trio of ritual killers while he is packing. Marietta is informed that Johnnie has gone buffalo hunting. In the mean time Sail and Lula who are on their way to Texas encounter a victim of a car crash, who later drops dead after rambling around in a much too lurid fashion. This incident apparently portends the dark future that lies ahead of the eloping couple.

While all of this is happening Johnnie is killed by the ritual killers in the most mind fucking way concievable. Santos takes Marietta back and Lula starts hallucinating about a bad witch. Arbit!! The couple then reaches a vague Texan town called Big Tuna where they encounter a bunch of freaks inc Bobby Peru (Defoe), an abominable ex-Marine.

At the dinner table some long haired dude introduces another quirky guy called Bosis Spool to the pair. Spool goes onto say the following:

My dog barks some.

Mentally, you picture my dog,

but, I have not told you

the type of dog which I have.

Perhaps

you might even picture Toto

from the "Wizard of Oz". /*one of Lynch's various references to ‘Wizard of Oz’*/

But I can tell you

my dog is always with me.

I suppose you see where I’m getting at. Cut!! Flies all over bits of cereal. Sailor enters the room and asks Lula why the room smells bad. Lula Says she has barfed. Bastard Lynch shows the barf (The flies!! The regurgitated cereal!! The vomit). Ewwww!!! Lula then tells Sailor that she is pregnant. Cut!! While Sail is filling his engine with oil Peru molests Lula. Random digression.Peru and Sail go onto rob a feed store during which Peru reveals to Sail that he has been sent to murder him and later accidentally blows his own head off. Sail is put in jail. Some years later Sail is out of prison and Lula brings their kid Pace to receive him. Marietta is now a drunk degenerate. On their way back home Lula arbitrarily gets anxious. Sailor assumes that she isn’t interested in getting back with him. He then leaves her only to be knocked out cold by a bunch of hoods. In his state of fist induced stupor Sailor dreams of a good witch who tells him that if he were truly wild at heart, he would fight for his dreams. He then runs back to Lula and sings ‘Love me tender’ despite his swollen nose. They unite and live happily ever after.

The end.

I had seen Lynch's Mulholland Drive and Elephant Man . This movie did little to change my opinion of the insane cunt.

I rest my case.

A Personality Test and a random link

Saw this on Ali's blog. Cool test this. Very happy with Angel.



oh and the random link
http://www.hindu.com/2007/07/09/stories/2007070954941100.htm

The Week That Was

I have 23 precious days left in here Surathkal. I would therefore like to chronicle these days to every minor detail.

The last week has been a momentous one, with a lot of firsts (Respect!! Double Respect!!) and probably a lot of lasts. Learnt on Monday morning that that my project guide had taken ten days off to visit his hometown (rumours were abound that he was suffering from an illness and was out to get it treated). Irrespective of the cause of his absence, our deadline was extended by a few days. Insert arbit smiley . Was generally ultra bugged. Looked towards bollywood to sate my thirst for mindless entertainment. Watched Bunty Aur Babli (BnB for those who have a thing for brevity). Dozed off before the climax.

Tuesday was worse. Slept through the day. Read the Wiki article on Grindhouse multiple times. Cursed our conservative censor board. Saw all the faux trailers on Youtube. Felt a strong urge to watch something macabre. Eli Roth’s Hostel came to the rescue (I’m sure these aren’t the choice words one would use to describe such a thing. But I am verbally constipated as usual). Went on to read the wiki article on the same, only to realise that it alone would have done well enough to gross me out.

Wednesday was memorable. Put fight on the project in the night. Upesh and I managed to complete a major chunk of the work allotted to us. Watched a documentary on the follies of the MPAA’s* rating system. It had some retards cribbing that their movies had been given an NC-17 rating (read as commercial death) whilst some other movie with n-hajar explicit content had been given an R rating. I could not see the point of this discussion for here in India they do not release NC 17 or R rated films.

Stayed awake through the night. Went to thadambail. Gobbled up puries. Went to the beach; early enough to avoid the sight of people defecating/micturating into the Arabian Sea. Saw a dead turtle . Mourned for its death. Whacked someone’s hard earned nongu*. Watched Jammy chase a peacock or rather a peacock run away from Jammy. Came back to the room and crashed.

Thursday was brilliant. Attended my last under-grad class. Sob Sob. Went to class hoping that the teacher would bid us all an emotional adieu. In quite an NITKian fashion he screwed it up with some bullshit on entrepreneurship and a stupid appraisal form. Nevertheless the thought that I had attended my last class in college left me choked. Suffered from my first attack of nostalgia.

Got my eyes checked for pittance with help from Ms. Sweaty Palms. Put dinner at Cherry Square. Tried hookah at Froth on Top after a lot of coaxing from Multikanth, Chakka and Co. Good Shyte.

Friday the 13^th : Good day; atleast better than the reputation that preceded it. Slept hajar. Watched The Big Lebowski-A Whatamovie!!! Kudos to Jeff Bridges and John Goodman. Selected my new spectacles. Belted chat at Shiv Kailash. Nenapirali at SAC was marred by Team Smriti’s efforts to recreate the visual splendour of Crescendo-04; some period movie huh? Fucking degenerates. Got back to sleeping.

Saturday was strange. The Tamizh New Year at NITK was lousy as usual. Went to the temple in the morning.Lost my old keyboard.R.I.P. Came to know that a dude who lived a few rooms away was thirsty for my blood. His blog says he’d like to,among other things, drive a knife through my heart. Anyways a full blog entry dedicated to me makes me feel very important. Swam in the evening. Slept. Got up at 2 and wrote this blog.

*MPAA - (Motion Picture Association of America)

*Nongu - Palmyrah Nut

Christmas Candy

Merry Christmas my fellow disgruntled degenerates. Yes this is the perfect time of the year to celebrate the holiday season, family, love and togetherness… Yeah!!Yeah!!Yeah!! And all that candy floss…Speaking of which…People in Bengalooru (formerly Bangalore) are either going colour blind or are turning into pansies.

Pink is Bengalooru’s new obsession!!! I see pink everywhere now. Pink bougainvilleas, Pink villas, Pink hoardings (now that hutch has turned pink), Pink scooterettes and the most disturbing of them all, sparkling new pink fucking buses for women!!! Eeeeyuck!!! There are 10 of these bitches plying on Bengalooru roads as of now and there are 25 more to come. Eeeeeeeeyuck!!!!

I wonder which self-righteous lady would board something that looks like Godzilla’s candy bar!! This ‘thing’ is pinker than Pinky’s penis, pinker than the pink panther or Porky Pig’s palate even. You’d want to lie down on the road with your mouth wide open in hope that this pink monstrosity would someday get in and you’d suck away to posterity, only to realize that you’re already half way through to heaven or hell. Yes!! It is alright to have special buses for women given the high rates of harassment in Bangalore (statistics from the pre-Bengalooru era). But not in pink…please!!! It isn’t like women will not board buses that aren’t pink. If the idea was to keep the men out, then BMTC must realize that no sane man would dare board a bus meant for women!!!

Sticking to the current theme of ‘color blindness’, here are some photographs of buildings that have arbitrarily cropped up near my place. God knows what was going through their minds when they picked these colours. But what can I say. Colour Blindness has its own ways.The one to your left houses a bunch of frustrated bachelors and the lanlord's wasted family. The one to your right - a government colony.

God Save us all from the pansies...

The Joke's on My Blog

Got myself this kickass template with a lot of help from 'Mr.KnowAll-HelpAll' -Tarunr
Suggestions are invited but don't be disheartened if they are not taken seriously...[smiley]

Watched ' The Best of Borat-UK' for the 'n' hazarth time yesterday...Now i know the whole damn 24 minutes of it verbatim... Also got news that the Borat movie (Cultural Learnings of America for make benefit glorious nation of Kazhaksthan) is coming to India this weekend...Must jug it off somehow...

Here's a glimpse of what one could expect in the Borat movie

Blog Seven

Yippee!!I am connected to the world at last. The connectivity is slightly cuppax though.

The problem with having internet in the blocks is that I get addicted to too many things. I am addicted to Orkut, addicted to watching the status bar on movie downloads and have developed a weird compulsion to look for arbit photos on Google images (including photos of storm troopers thrusting their pelvis).

I have become a compulsive orkutter (Well!!If Tarun can become one, anybody can) writing testis, reading testis, strafing into arbit profiles and most of all meeting up with some long lost friends. I have also enabled ninja mode (in effect disabled profile visitors). So now I can visit some hajar profiles and pack without even leaving a trace. I have also taken a liking towards reading ‘L’max testimonials. In fact safari-al and I have begun collecting the shittiest ones. We are planning to put them on this site we intend to call toxictestimonials .com.

Event of the week: Communal Riots in Dakshin Kannada

Nobody can report as equivocally about communal riots as The Hindu can. Here’s what they had to say about how the riots came about. You figure out which community did what…

“Tension sparked following an accident involving a tempo carrying cattle to a slaughterhouse in Kudroli. The incident occurred on Wednesday night when the tempo hit two sports utility vehicles and sped in the direction of the slaughterhouse.

The people in the damaged vehicles followed the tempo and stopped it near the slaughterhouse. But a mob of youngsters belonging to a particular community had already gathered there armed with bottles and stones, which they threw at the vehicles. Three persons in the SUVs were injured and one of them was admitted to a local hospital.

Soon after the incident, a group of young people from another community arrived on the spot and retaliated. About 20 vehicles parked by the roadside were damaged and 15 persons were injured. They were all admitted to the hospital.”

Doesn’t sound like a sound reason to run amok does it?

But just as we thought that this cuppax riot will not last long, a bunch of fools, who seemed to have felt that not enough people had been killed, went on to kill a couple of guys from the other community and all hell broke loose. A curfew was imposed on the district and our midsems got postponed indefinitely. All the schools, colleges and shops in the area remained closed for three days. With dwindling supplies, the mess food began to taste like goat puke.

Three days passed and on Sunday another five people were stabbed. Result: the curfew was extended by two days. All my friends who had braved the riots to go to Bangalore got stuck at home with all buses to Mangalore getting cancelled. But the college administration decided to conduct the mid semester exams despite the curfew. The situation hasn’t abated though. News came in yesterday about a fresh set of murders. Well what can I say? Loco Incompetence?

Aww!!

Yo!!Blogger commies. I was busy doing nothing, so had to take some time off to post this one.

Here’s a compilation of Jaggesh’s popular dialogues, courtesy The Jaggesh Fan Club on orkut.

1. Maawa! Kai haakbeda, kelage yenu hakilla, honeymoonige ready-agidhini!

2. Aaawww!! yaargidli!! ah yaargidli!!

3. Nimm akkhaaaan… gehellu chicken biryani taroke

4. Aai theri lakadi pakadi jumma , maramman disco.......

5. Jaggesh Addressing a marriage party
"neevu yalla mundey hogi Naanu nim hinde JATKA hodkondu barthee nee"

6. "Aaawu Longu... Aaawu Jumpu"

7. Jaggesh to a beggar "swalpa mettage kerkolli, parts geertsu kaige kitkond banbuttavu...."

8. Jaggu:ajji kasu kodu picture nodbeku
ajji: yav picturo
jaggu: bhaga ondu bhaga eradu
ajji: en sangliyana na?
jaggu: alla rati vignana.
ajji: thu poli mundede.

9. Looking at photos of future brides....
"che....ivalige kannilla... ivalige kivi kelalla..

ivaliganthu left hand e illa.... (Shaking his left hand in to-n-fro motion).. innu idannu naane maadla...."

10. Jadisi generator odda andre, production stop agbidbeku.... aaawoo ninna ayyan...!!!!!

11. This one’s for the Quizzers

Jaggesh: Yakkao tam hesarenu?
Girl: Yake?
Jaggesh: Sumne General Knowledge ge!!

12. Aww!!beautiful shot of muniyamman jhopdi!!

Kounder Strike - Sneak Peek

Sam's Story

Ola,

For all of you who aren’t comic book junkies, I proudly present Joseph/Jeph Loeb – comic book writer extraordinaire. With super hit cult comic book series such as Batman: Hush (with Jim Lee), Batman and Superman: The World’s Finest, Daredevil Yellow, and Batman: The Long Halloween (which is supposed to have inspired Batman Begins) in his kitty the man could not have asked for more. But unfortunate Mr.Loeb lost his son Sam to cancer June last year. At the age of 15 Sam wrote a story in issue 5 of the Tales of the Vampires comic series with Jeph's long-term associate Tim Sale. In 2006, Sam's final work appeared in Superman/Batman #26 which was nearly completed before his death. Jeph then went on to complete this issue with the help of a star-studded team comprising of members such as Jim Lee(Hush), Pat Lee, Rob Liefeld, Ed McGuinness(Superman and Batman), Tim Sale(Catwoman: When in Rome, Long Halloween, Daredevil: Yellow), Michael Turner(Superman and Batman) etc. The issue also featured a story entitled "Sam's Story," dedicated to Sam.

I found this 6 page dedication to Sam quite moving.

Here are the links to all the six pages of Sam's Story..

http://www.newsarama.com/dcnew/Sams_story/SAMLOEBp1_s.jpg

http://www.newsarama.com/dcnew/Sams_story/SAMLOEBp2_s.jpg

http://www.newsarama.com/dcnew/Sams_story/SAMLOEBp3_s.jpg

http://www.newsarama.com/dcnew/Sams_story/SAMLOEBp4_s.jpg

http://www.newsarama.com/dcnew/Sams_story/SAMLOEBp5_s.jpg

http://www.newsarama.com/dcnew/Sams_story/SAMLOEBp6_s.jpg

Recommended: For continuity's sake please save all the pages onto your computer and then read them on a slideshow.

Flicked..Good One Though

History will be kind to me for i intend to write it- Winston Churchill

Divine Intervention

Points to be noted before one reads this blog:

1) This is my first blog.

2) This is not my last blog

3) The events that unfold during the course of this blog are true

4) There are no discrepancies. So don’t look for any.

5) The author is definitely male.

It was a stormy Thursday night and it was raining Lions and St. Bernards in Bangalore. I was on my computer, half way through Transmetropolitan when I heard a puppy squeal. I kept to my work assuming that the puppy was crying for its mother’s warmth- it was sterilizingly* cold after all. Ten minutes hence my ass felt numb and I walked out to the balcony to get some blood flowing through my Gluteus Max. I peeped over the compound to get a glimpse of this scaled down Tsang-po in the rain water drain. Much to my horror I saw a puppy clinging on for dear life in this deluge of mud and rain water. If the puppy had lost its grip on the wall it would have been washed away into the local quagmire of garbage and human excreta. Sighting this rather grotesque eventuality I grabbed my wind cheater and ran out to save this hapless creature. I wasn’t too hard taking the first one out. I handed it over to my brother who wiped it dry and gave it some milk to drink. Just as I was taking my wet ass back home I heard another puppy scream. This one was stuck under the drain cover. I knelt on the ground and peeped under the cover. There were six more in there and most of them were out of reach. I extended my hand under the cover and took another out. The third was a little further into the drain. I stepped into the drain, put my head under the cover and took the third one out when the rain seemed to be falling everywhere but on my head. I looked up to see this uber-chick, I had never seen in my locality, holding an umbrella over my head. (Muhuhaha)

Looking very concerned, she asked me how many more were left. I said four more and she then offered to help me with the rest.( Muhuhaha) I was so busy trying to act concerned (on must realise that by then I had lost that humanitarian edge and was to back being an ordinary NITKian) that I did not even bother gauging her vital statistics. She got rid of her umbrella and pushed the puppies with a stick from the one end while I received them from the other. They were brought back to terra firma, wiped dry and fed well. You see the attention is now rapidly shifting from the puppies to the chick. She told me that the she was an occupant of the apartment across the street, wished me good night and left. The next morning as I stood on my balcony drinking piping hot filter coffee, I saw her again. We wished each other and that is where this fairy tale ends. Unfortunately I haven’t seen her since that morning.

Now, I console myself by saying “Well I did get wet and dirty with a chick. Not many are lucky enough to do that“

*sterilize v. (also -ise) (-zing or -sing) 1 make sterile. 2 deprive of reproductive powers.  Sterilization n.

BTW: All the puppies are hale and healthy.

Epilogue:

Pulp Fiction- circa 1994 AD

JULES

(to himself)

We should be fuckin' dead right now.

(pause)

Did you see that gun he fired at us?  It was bigger than him.

 VINCENT

.357.

 JULES

We should be fuckin' dead! 

VINCENT

Yeah, we were lucky. 

Jules rises, moving toward Vincent.

 JULES

That shit wasn't luck.  That shit was somethin' else.

 Vincent prepares to leave. 

VINCENT

Yeah, maybe.

 JULES

That was...divine intervention. You know what divine intervention is?

 VINCENT

Yeah, I think so.  That means God came down from Heaven and stopped the bullets.

 JULES

Yeah, man, that's what is means. That's exactly what it means!  God came down from Heaven and
stopped the bullets.

 VINCENT

I think we should be going now.

 JULES

Don't do that!  Don't you fuckin' do that!  Don't blow this shit off! What just
happened was a  fuckin' miracle!

 VINCENT

Chill the fuck out, Jules, this shit happens.

 JULES

Wrong, wrong, this shit doesn't  just happen. 

VINCENT

Do you wanna continue this theological discussion in the car,or at the jailhouse with the cops?

 JULES

We should be fuckin' dead now, my friend!  We just witnessed a miracle, and I want you to fuckin'
acknowledge it!

My First Attempt at Writing a Story

Arrgh…She screamed…Thump…Thump...Thump...Strike three and her skull caved in. Particles of blood, brains and bone liberated -- lodged themselves on his creamy white suit. He loved his suit; loved his sister better. Drenched in blood, the wilted red rose in his pocket regained its life and jumped around in merriment. Its master had now achieved what he had set out to do twenty years ago. He dipped his hand in the crimson deluge that was now flowing on her carpet and smeared it all over his face. It felt warm. Breathing heavily he tightened his face as coagulating blood pulled at every muscle. Evil had consumed him and was now flowing in his veins as he stood smiling over the tramp’s mangled body. “Sentence served” he thought to himself.

December 11, 1985: He was twelve then and his sister three. They were at the riverside fair. Lights decorated the night sky -- brilliant blue tubes on that monster of a giant wheel, the golden glow of the popcorn stalls, pink fluorescent tubes lining the path to the tunnel of love. Lollypop in one hand and her brother’s arm in the other, she hopped in gaiety. This was her first time at the fair. She was adorable in spite of having a conspicuous birth mark on her forehead. The sky was clear and all the stars were on display.

”Look!! All the stars are out!! They are here to get a glimpse of you—you beauty”

They bought the tickets to the giant wheel and as they sat in their respective seats he noticed two goons staring at his sister. He held her closer. The wheel started to turn and by the time they got back on firm ground the goons had disappeared. He felt safer now.

“You will be mesmerized by our city’s skyline…The river side walkway offers you a brilliant view…100 meters ahead”

Strolling along the river side an eerie sense of insecurity came over him. The walkway was empty and dark. As he looked back to get a glimpse of the fair they had left behind, he heard loud noise. Before he knew it his sister lay beside him unconscious and bleeding from her leg. The helpless little boy knelt beside his sister and started to cry for help. Only two men responded. They came running to him and shot him in his chest and pumped another into his sister.

He came out of her motel room balcony and looked at the crystal clear sky and screamed ”Look!! All the stars are out!! They are here to get a glimpse of you—you beauty. This was for you- sister… This was for you – you beauty...”

He woke up in a hospital ward, a month later. He saw the nurse bring her rosary closer to her heart and thank the lord. He knew that his sister was too young to have survived through two bullet shots. He cried until he was exhausted and fell asleep again. He dreamt of dark waters, grey skies and galloping black horses. On one horse was his sister dressed in a flawless white skirt. She beckoned “Oh brother!! I miss you here. Won’t you join me?”. “I miss you too” he mumbled in his sleep.

Over the next few days he developed a strong resolve to avenge his sister’s murder. He knew that the best way to do it would be to join a local gang and extract information. He started off as a chauffeur and went up the ranks to be the gang’s best hit man. While he was decimating members of the enemy gang he tried to get information about those bastards who killed his sister. But all his efforts ended in vain.

Ten years passed by, when he received the photograph of his next target. He recognized it immediately. It was one of those murderers. He had failed to pay back a huge sum of money he had borrowed from a local Jewish shark. It was as if he was by possessed by Satan himself. Consumed by joy and rage he went on a rampage breaking everything in his house.

The blood had dried on his face. He dug into his pockets to look for a cigarette but didn’t find any. He limped into the house to look for one.

He followed his target closely, watching his every move. His activities were as dirty as his countenance. Apart from stealing, killing and raping, this horny bastard visited a whore once every week –“Such a low life does not deserve to live”. As for the whore –she was a young one who lived in a run down motel not far from where our protagonist ran his office.

He concluded that the best place to kill this bastard would be in the whore’s room in that empty motel. He picked his day - December 11^th, 2005. He shoved a knife into his coat pocket and a shotgun into his shirt. Dressed in his favorite white suit and a red rose in his pocket he made his way to the motel. He always liked to be dressed for the occasion.

He found a pack of triple 5s in her coat.

It was about 2 in the morning. “He must be done fucking her”. As he reached the room, he slowly pulled his shotgun out. The door was open. There he was, deep in his sleep, resting his right arm on her breasts. He banged the butt of his gun on the floor. The loud noise got them awake. She ran and hid behind a chair. Shocked and aware of the eventuality, the whacko began mumbling prayers –“Oh Christ!! Oh Christ!! Forgive me father…forgive me for all my sins”

“Do not forgive him father!! For he knows not what he is saying”

He kept the gun to his head and pumped all the rounds he had into his skull, splattering the walls with shredded viscera. As he turned towards the door he saw her pointing a revolver at him. “Why did you kill him? You asshole.“. She shot him on his shin. In a swift move he threw the shotgun at her head. It hit her hard. She fell down with a sickening thud. Taking support from a wooden chair he got up and picked his gun up. In his fit of rage he swung at her head with its butt. Arrgh…She screamed…Thump…Thump...Thump...Strike three and her skull caved in.

He stood there savouring every puff of smoke he inhaled. As he started the clean up job he noticed a healed bullet wound on her leg. Suddenly something struck him…Something struck him real hard. He lifted the hair off her face and there it was -- that same conspicuous birth mark. The helpless boy knelt beside his sister and began to cry. He took the knife out of his pocket and slit his wrists. As his tears washed the blood away, he closed his eyes and violently shoved the knife into his heart.