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Saturday 6 September, 2008
By  amit khanna   19:13 | 27/May/2007 |  5 Comment(s)
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The guy with the air guitar


    

'Hey! The hoops look good on you where do you buy them', I couldn’t help asking her. The hoops danced mischievously, brown hoops the size of bangles. She even wore bangles of the same color. She nodded her head and asked,' why do you want to know'. Just asking, maybe I got a girlfriend hidden away somewhere'. She got several hoops. On Mondays she wears blue colored ones which have a little blue pendant. Then there are silver ones and of course the brown ones. The brown ones are the best because they go well with her brown eyes and brown hair. The brown hair courtesy L’Oreal', I guess.

There is this guy who plays the air guitar real well. He closes his eyes all of sudden and he is in his private world. He picks up the imaginative guitar and starts strumming a tune. His brows knot up in deep concentration. I poke him in the ribs because everybody is watching. He wakes up from his soiree and looks around him in detachment. He has the look of a guy who has suddenly attained nirvana.

If you think that cats have no brains then check this particular orange hued one with low centre of gravity and stretched out like one of those Russian stretch limousines. The cat pawed the milk, spilling it on the floor. It wasn’t an accident; it was rather deliberate well planned move. The milk was too hot. This cat wasn’t stupid because he repeated the act again. 

The mattress fell over the balcony and landed on the neighbor’s terrace. This is kind of weird because the last time I saw the mattress it was lying on the ground. It was pegged down to the surface by cat poop. But how the fuck did it rise to the occasion and land on the neighbors tank. The neighbor is mad of course and I fear retribution. 

The kids are a menace. They yell and holler all day long. The door is pushed, rattled and kicked. I let rip a scream and the kids run away only to return back. Its like one of those horror flicks where the masked killer keeps comming back. The cricket ball keeps comming back in the vicinity of my specs. I think the aim is deliberate. I duck the flying bullets and let rip a dire threat. Fearing disembowelment they scatter to the safety of their homes.

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