Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘humor’ Category

Chapter- 3

Captain Kous- Kous Asks A Favor

Captain of the Golden Dawn gives a tip to the Mayor; he also wants the favor returned if he succeeds with the Grand Mufti.

 

It was the month of April.

When the Turkish fleet landed there was a great rejoicing among the Sleepy Heads who had never seen so many ships all together. The ships were moored in the open sea and the Turks came in so many boats to the Bay of Morphou. They awaited their grand mufti to make his entry.

The Sleepy Heads did not see Turks but as so many Santa Claus whom they had only heard of. If those Turks strutted and preened themselves, so much the better said they. They knew in that case their gifts would be handsome too. Being Sleepy Heads they were waiting to be surprised; and they wondered what kind of gifts would come their way. ’What did it matter? If only we got something free!’ Ask a Sleepy Head if Santa were rich he would say without batting his eyelid, “ Of course he is rich. If he is not, can he give gifts?” They were reasonable people.

 

From far and wide people came. The musicians brought their instruments to play loud. They played a cheerful melody and then another. The Sleepy Heads kept on playing their instruments while the crowd watched. They were all the time gawking at the great wealth and richness of their ships. Whereas they were dressed in coarse goatskins and wore clogs, the Turks were all dressed in muslin and calf leather. They were a sight to see. So many hours went by and still the Sleepy Heads kept playing. In the end captain of one of the ships motioned the mayor to come closer. He asked the mayor, “ Say fellow, are they musicians?” The mayor proudly answered “ Yes, they are. Every one of them!” He added, “ They belong to The Sleepy Heads’ Band.”

Captain Kous-Kous commanded the ship the ‘Golden Dawn’. He was a man of medium height and with pleasant features. He looked a little down in the mouth as if he was in pain. He wearily asked the mayor,“ What are they playing?” “ Deadbeat” replied the mayor with a flourish.

Yes, yes, if you say so” the Turkish captain said,“ but are they keeping time?” “ Sure. “ said the mayor airily. “ Watch how the second fiddle tries to catch up with the kettle drum? Normally the drummer wins hands down. Have no fear sire, the fiddler will get to finish it sooner or later.”

I wanted to speak to the mayor. Where is your leader?” “ I am the mayor,” Calisthenics bowed politely. The captain introduced himself.” Captain Kous-Kous at your service. The grand mufti wants to have a word with you.” The Turk said.

The mayor of the Sleepy Heads followed him to the boat and there they went together friendly and chattering of this and that. If two total strangers on their first meeting could so freely talk and put each other at ease any talk of war must seem incredible. Is it not? Why would a nice captain like Kous-Kous want to slash a jolly mayor with his scimitar? Or mayor stick the Turk with a stiletto, which he carried only as a part of his Mayoral office? Had any one asked either of them each would have answered, ’No way!’

The captain let himself easily into the ship and helped the mayor to come in. Before the mayor was let into the suite where the grand mufti sat the captain said to him in a whisper, “ Do not ever look at the turban of his Lordship”. The mayor looked at him somewhat confused.

Why then is he wearing one?”

I don’t know,” the Turk replied, “But I have seen many who have come to grief on account of his turban.”

Is it OK if I laugh to his jokes?” asked the mayor and the sea captain stopped in his stride, “laugh! Never!”

The Turk explained the prince had never laughed and death was to anyone who displeased him. He added, ”If he smiles you have nothing to fear. If he frowns of course it would not be the end. But if he is angry, brother I shall not be there to help you!” The captain seemed nervous as they approached the Hall, which led to the suite of the grand mufti.

Prince Al-Wa’sik was a prince by birth. The mere mention of his father would have made many breathless. His father was none other than Suleiman the magnificent and the present sultan had entrusted the entire operation to his half brother. Selim ‘the Sot’ knew the prince, truly enlightened and pious that he was, did not covet his throne. Still, he had in a matter of precaution given him charge over state affairs, which kept him away from the power center. Thus throughout the year he was fighting wars overseas or negotiating with powerful rulers for the weal of the empire. He had acquired sensitivity from his mother an Arabian princess who safely kept herself out of harms way while the sultana held sway. She had pulled her strings from long distance to preserve him as he rose steadily in his career. He rose in time to be recognized by his sire, who elevated him to the powerful rank of grand mufti. After the death of his father he had kept rising without attracting the envy of the powerful. He was given charge of the Operation Stymie. The captain who briefed the mayor as to the many qualities of prince cautioned him, ” Under pain of death do not make any comment about the shape of his head. Death is for any one who displeases him. Understand?” “What makes his head special?”The captain said,”His head is OK. But his turban. Ooh!” Without stopping in his stride he continued,”Don’t ever stare at the turban of his Lordship.You know what is an onion like. And I have seen many. But you take a look at his turban; what does it bring to your mind, but an oversized onion?”The mayor was impressed. “Oh, brother how terrible! A word like ‘onionhead’ can cost your life, He is all too powerful.”

The mayor nodded. “ Is there something which will please the grand mufti?” He asked feeling a little afraid. “ Oh yes,” said the captain with a knowing smile. “ Tulips are his passion. A mere word will make him break out in goose pimples.” The mayor rubbed his hands as if he knew he could get away. “ My neck is in no danger of being broken.” The mayor said with obvious relief. “ I know of a thing of two about tulips. I am a tulip fancier myself.” The captain felt somewhat relieved, “A tulip fancier ah! What do you know of tulips?”

You have lips. So have I. We have two lips” said Calisthenics grandly. “ That will do.” Kouskous for the first time smiled, “ I am impressed. “ Do you grow tulips around these parts?”

O Brother, Don’t you have eyes?,” the mayor asked, “Look at my lips. How well they fit. Can you imagine me without two lips. They grow well here.”

Before this information could sink in Calisthenics added, “We wet it with our wines and wipe it clean with bread.”

The captain sniffed and said, “ I guess you are right. But I thought tulips were something of a horticultural talking point?” “A point well taken!” the mayor said with a bow. Kous-Kous said, “Fancy meeting a tulip grower here. You have to make an impression on the grand mufti. That is what counts.”

Not my two lips?” The mayor played it up.

Captain Kous-Kous suddenly became nervous and he said, “ He in there,’ pointing to the Hall,’ is very dangerous. His name means Terrible Eyes. There is death in them eyes.” The captain stopped short and turned to the mayor, “Let us be positive. If he is happy with you, Ah, then your fortune is made.” The captain whispered, “ If every thing goes well you can do me a favor.”

Come, ask me?” Calisthenics asked. “Do not forget to say something good about me during the interview. I am waiting for a promotion which is long over due.” He added,“ I Captain Kous- Kous believes in returning the favor. Scratch me I shall scratch your back.”

Oh sure!” The mayor said, ” Consider it as done.”

Captain Kous- Kous was a sea captain and not one blessed with a bright mind. Just the same he had a mind always to help those who needed help. Kous- Kous walked over to the guards who stood before the anteroom. “ The mayor is here.” One of the guards went inside and after a while returned. The captain before he took leave said,” Put in a word for me. Captain Kous- Kous is the name. Remember, on pain of death no mention of the word, Onion Head. That is one word, which makes him mad. Understand?”

At his point the gong struck. Hearing the sudden sound the captain almost panicked. He just made off. The guard motioned the mayor to enter. Before he could recover from his daze he was in. He reeled to step on rich Persian carpets and the sight of the grand mufti made it still worse. He did not for a moment or two know whether he was going or coming. So confused he was. The figure who sat on the carpet at the far end of the suite, with his elbow leaning on a large cushion was fierce and he said, “Enter!” His heart sank a little to realize that he had forgotten that word which he was not supposed to say. It was a long walk and he was careful not to stumble. At every step he was searching his memory for that one word. “Bulkhead? Minion? Or is it Dome? He rattled many words and discarded them all. “Oh no. it may never come back. I lost it.” The grand mufti was fair of form except for his turban, which was unusually large. Quickly he noted that his turban gave his head the shape of an onion head. “ Ah I got it!” Calisthenics exclaimed, “ Onionhead ! That was the word I should not speak on pain of death. The captain said so.” All the way to the platform where the grand mufti sat he kept reminding himself, “I must not say Onionhead whatever happens. Onionhead is the word.”

The prince beckoned him to approach still closer. The mayor did. He bowed politely. The Turk asked him to sit. He introduced himself. “Who are you?” Mayor Onionhead, sire!” The hapless mayor realized his mistake only after the words flew out of his mouth. It was out. ‘Nothing can get it back. Awful.’ The mayor blanched. He dared not look at the eyes of his host. ‘They must be like daggers now!’ Calisthenics shuddered,“ But I am a tulip fancier.” He bellowed with all his might. He thought that by shouting the word ‘tulip’ he might drown the words he had mistakenly said. There fell a dead silence. Then the grand mufti laughed. He laughed so hard that the wooden beams of the hall echoed it. The guards peeped. So did the executioner who had a large broad sword. He was laughing which burst out all at once. A full blown laughter and it shook his lithe muscular princely frame. “ This is a scream,” The Turk said, “ You made me laugh for the first time!”

So this is what it is to laugh?” The Turk asked loud. Being unused to laughter he tried a few more times.” No it does not sound good.” Of course the prince felt laughing but laughing for nothing was not good. ‘Laughter and jokes go together; like horse and carriage!’ the grand mufti mused.

Go on tell me another and make me laugh!” the Turk urged the mayor. “What can an Onionhead do that a coat of paint cannot do? The mayor began.

You tell me, make me laugh, Go on.” The Turk interrupted waving his hand as if he could not wait. The mayor said,” A coat of paint you can peel but you try peeling an Onionhead,” Calisthenics took time out and added the punch line,” you are sure to lose your head.” Did that make the Turk laugh? Of course he laughed harder and he almost doubled with it till he thought his stomach would burst. He thought laughter was all the time hiding within. He thought it was not his fault he never could laugh. ‘Only if I had heard something funny before’. He was in a wonder.

The mayor was sure enjoying himself. “What is the difference between my bald spot and my arm?”

You tell me,” the prince said straightening up.

The mayor could see the prince was in a good mood looking forward to let himself go. Showing his crown Calisthenics said,” On my head there are no split ends but,” shaking his hand loosely he continued,” my arm has a split end!” he said. “Ho Ho your fingers!” The Turk got the joke. The mayor stopped. He thought too many jokes in one go were as a no go. So he waited now for the Turk to say something.

The grand mufti asked finally, ” Do you sleep with all these jokes?” “Who wants to go to bed with a bagful of jokes?” Calisthenics asked, “ Give me a good night’s sleep and it is in the bag!,” He said snapping his fingers “just like that!” The mayor thought it all a dream. He pinched himself to make sure. It was real. He made the grand mufti laugh for the first time. He could not believe it. “Onion head, uh,uh” The Turk rolled again in mirth. He said,” My physicians said it was impossible”. He excused himself to inform his wives who were in another part of the ship.

When the Turk had gone a fellow in dirty clothes and with a clean-shaven head adorned only by a felt cap peeped in. Looking around to see that the grand mufti was out he entered boldly and said, “Who are you?” “Mayor Calisthenics. And who are you?”

Mullah Murad Mahoud, “ said the stranger,” I wasn’t expecting interruption.”

That makes two of us.”

You know who I am?” he glared.” I can smell your presence.“ the mayor said under his breath. The newcomer asked,“ Where Grand Mufti Al- Wa’sik has gone to?” “I have no idea. He did not tell me.” Mayor Calisthenics replied.

Did he go in long strides or with short steps?”

With a laugh he went.” Calisthenics replied.

Laugh? Impossible!” Mullah Murad was sure, “ He has no use for laughter. He is a Turk!” The mullah was angry. “Laugh once, Allah hears you O stranger, But laugh twice, you are committing blasphemy. So watch out!” Hearing footsteps he hurriedly disappeared.

The fellow came second time leading a black bear and the mayor was taken aback at its size. “ The bear is under my care. I can make him do what I will!” He had never seen such a beast. “ Can you make the beast laugh, O mullah?” “ What for?” “So I may grin and bear it. Laughing is forbidden, no?”

At that point a rat gallivanted across the carpeted hall and the mayor thought it had no sense of respect; Mahoud saw him too and he said, ”Kill him!” The next moment the bear just reached out its muscular and hairy paw to dispatch the unfortunate rat to the next world. The mayor shuddered to confront the evil glint in the eye of the mullah. He said, ”All I need to give him a command and it is done!” The mayor knew it was a veiled threat. From that point Calisthenics ignored him.

To his relief the grand mufti came in and it surprised the guest to see the way the mullah changed over. The prince told him something and hastily he left the hall with the lumbering giant. Conversationally Al-Wa’sik said the bear was his pet. “I call him No Malice. You don’t care for pets?” “Of course I do.” Said the mayor with a serious face,” Except when I am in a pet.” His host laughed politely. The mayor did not mention about the little drama the animal played in his absence.

Quickly the two got to converse. The prince spoke about his tulips and the mayor was passionate about trekking. Calisthenics realized the prince was hard pressed for time. He was called up again by a guard, who came in and whispered something into his ears. The prince first frowned and smiled weakly to say,” This is a matter of compassion. Allah requite me kindly for this.” He got up and left.

After half an hour he came back. He had the look of a man who had earned his place among mankind by such deeds as worthy of a human being. He said,” Two young boys were almost at the point of drowning. One of my men saved them; and they are even now being attended to. By my personal physician.”

Calisthenics asked if they could speak. “At least their names?” The grand mufti replied,” I will lead you to them and you can satisfy yourself and may be your presence would be of comfort.” The mayor straightaway followed his host into the private chambers of the prince.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

Bad Karma?

Have you heard of a Tantric Yogi who drowned in the Ganges in the city of Varnasi? He died and he was reincarnated as a wooden oar. Every time the ferryman slaps water he will say,’Take this, you damn villain. Didn’t you kill our Yogi?

One day the Yogi said, ‘Oh brother you are doing fine, It is nice to see for once I can make another sweat from exertion! Keep moving.’

What it is to be an Indian? One has to find out for oneself.

benny

 

Read Full Post »

Revenge of the Moles©

It was the month of October. But at the Desperate Wayfarer’s Club it was sizzling hot. There was I for months on the move trying to beat the heat. Global warming it was whispered at first and none would believe it then. From look of it no one seemed to believe it either. It was killing time and the travelers were all there. They were asking the bar tender for ice to make their hooch sound high class. None was getting any. You see the proof was right there. It melted even before it could be served. Yet drinking the undrinkable they were craving for ice! The bar tender whinnied,’This heat is killing me and ice is melting dear sirs, Between the two I ain’t sure if I will see end of the day.’ The travelers snorted and it was hooch, with no ice.
I was seated among well heeled travelers. It was obvious. They were all sitting on the lounge chairs with their part of feet missing. Heat made the asphalt like it was a trial run on the halls of Lucipher. How people everywhere bought branded items! Some even tried cucumber! Cool as cumber was one expression that was left as useless! While sale of Gucci, and Adidas fell nothing made their feet protected. Those who were on the run to escape the city lost their standing. The crooks who beat the system did not carry their loot no more than their poor feet could. But no they were all holed up at the club somewhat in a dither unable to down their constitutional. I gulped mine down and said,’ I can find my feet again.’

Obviously fellow travelers didn’t take kindly to the expression.. They looked not at their feet but at my empty glass. One asked, ‘My dear sir, You drink and say finding your feet.’ You have even got shoes on.’
I looked at my feet and smiled. ‘Ah it is story time. I know my moleskin shoes are wonder shoes. I saved the wonder of..’
“Shoes?” asked one. Sitting next to him I said, “No, my story. It has to do with moles and I had a capital idea of going into business of making shoes.” I would have launched into it capital outlay and production cost and the whole rigmarole of setting up a factory and so on. But as one who loved to tell stories I knew these were of no use at the moment. I knew it was the story of moles what brought me there and not what I do with their skin.’ One traveler immediately thrust a bumper of hooch onto my hand and said, ‘Here this is one me. Only make the story smooth and as silky as your shoes.’
I thanked him and said,’I am Dr. Fix-It and I have just come after saving the world. In order to do that let me briefly touch upon my job. I fix whatever problems there may be. This story hangs on a little hiccup called Nuclear Waste. And it is what I intend to tell you right now. You heard of spent fuel rods?’
‘Oh yes, something nuclear I believe.’ one said brightly. I explained as quickly as possible the difficulty in getting rid of the high-level waste. In a flash I moved on to its disposal. ‘Bury them under the ocean floor, storing it underground, and shooting it into space. I had to fix the problem. Then I set my assistants to search high and low for a solution. But I found a mole right in front of the lab. A mole was messing up a flowerbed for a week. I hit upon the idea of using moles to solve it for us.’ The travelers must have noticed the strange cunning smile and said, ‘Oh Dr. Fix-It drink up your whiskey. You look like one in need.’. How could I refuse them? I said,’Oh yes. I set up a mole farm where I fed them with nuclear waste little by little.. The moles were soon hooked on to the stuff. It was better than “deep geological disposal!” ‘
Like Dr. Victor Frankenstein I had a problem. But moles wanted to eat the world away. Their appetite was gargantuan. I think something in the nuclear waste disagreed with their hormones. They developed gigantism…’ I was sweating and the fellow travelers looked at me with alarm. ‘What size are we talking here?’ the bar tender was asking me. Of course he had to know the measure of beer he poured and he was spot on. I said,’ Forget the spatula you use to wipe the foam. The comparison requires much more.’ A pause and I continued, ‘What if I had told you some three moles could sit down to eat up the Empire state building? And at the end of it got up with a smirk to say, the dinner was just about. James you get me clear. Don’t you?’ James was so confused that he let the tap run for a while.
‘How did you save the world?’ the fellow traveler from Montana asked me. ‘With great difficulty’ I replied. Of course I was being too optimistic. But what the hell I’m Dr.Fix-It. It was as good as done. I paused and took the thread of my story again, ‘Oh yes the nuclear waste was buried under Yucca mountains. When the whole pile caved in I knew the moles were behind it. There were frantic calls from Homeland Security. They had discovered suspicious tunneling below Pentagon and under the Fort Knox. The went for the Alert Red. Soon it was clear that there was no Un-American activities engaged by the citizens. But the tunnels were caused by some devilish critters. I knew what they were. But I wasn’t going to give myself away. I managed to persuade the President to call off the drones. The problem was to smoke these dreadful critters out. I held such power in my hands and I insisted absolute free hand. It was thus the government called off the drones.
My assignment took me go in search of these elusive moles. I went all the way to the Marianas trench in the Pacific. While I paused there was a great clamor among the fellow travelers. One Indian stood up and said, I intend to punish the moles for what they did to Agra. Taj Mahal collapsed since the moles had tunneled under the World Heritage Center. That brought one who said he was all for killing the Moles for blasphemy. Didn’t these infernal critters bring Mecca into a pile of rubble?’ It brought the Shi’ia factions to rouse themselves saying the moles need to be exterminated. ‘No mercy!’ In fact the great assembly of travelers were desperate for action. ‘We shall kill all the moles!’ they cried. It became a battle cry. The noise was spiraling into ear deafening cry. I got up on the counter and cried for a hearing. I said,’ If you are ready for action I am just going to tell some news.’ It took a while for them to quiet down. I said, ‘The moles are elusive creatures. All those nuclear stuff also made them very cantankerous. They know I am after them.’ Pointing to my moleskin shoes I said, ‘These shoes must alert them of my existence. If they were to come after me, there is going to be a shoot out, like that shootout in the High noon.’
“ Show us the irons you have packed?’ the fellow from Montana asked me. ‘No I shall not give away my secret’. Before it sank in sure enough there was an earth shattering piercing cry. Imagine some thousand moles each a mile high and of a mile girth, breaking out of the ground! It was incredible. I said, Each of you try standing and pee for all your worth. Many simply fell and wretchedly crying, ‘No we already peed in our pants! I asked,’ James, never mind. Just open all the beer barrels as soon as they come within striking distance’.
I must say James kept his cool. He let go the beer flooding in a stream and the phalanx of moles stopped their nostrils burning. It was a searing hot afternoon. I do not know if it was beer or the heat that did it. The moles simply folded up. James asked, ’Is it a beer dream?’
‘No the sun made your beer lethal. Next time don’t serve us your beer. Unless a mole comes in for a pint.’

benny   

Read Full Post »

It was the month of October. But at the Desperate Wayfarer’s Club it was sizzling hot. There was I for months on the move trying to beat the heat. Global warming it was whispered at first and none would believe it then. From look of it no one seemed to believe it either. It was killing time and the travelers were all there. They were asking the bar tender for ice to make their hooch sound high class. None was getting any. You see the proof was right there. It melted even before it could be served. Yet drinking the undrinkable they were craving for ice! The bar tender whinnied,’This heat is killing me and ice is melting dear sirs, Between the two I ain’t sure if I will see end of the day.’ The travelers snorted and it was hooch, with no ice.

 I was seated among well heeled travelers. It was obvious.They were all sitting on thie lounge chairs with their part of feet missing.  Heat made the asphalt like it was a trial run on the halls of Lucipher. How people everywhere bought branded items. Some even tried cucumber! Cool as cumber was one expression that was left as useless! while sale of Gucci, and Adidas fell nothing made their feet protected. Those who were on the run to escape the city lost their standing. The crooks who beat the system did not carry their loot no more than their poor feet could. But no they were all holed up at the club somewhat in a dither unable to down their constitutional. I gulped mine down and said,’ I can find my feet again.’

Obviously fellow travelers didn’t take kindly to the expression.. They looked not at their feet but at the empty glass. One asked,’My dear sir, You drink and say finding your feet.’ You have even got shoes on.’

I looked at my feet and smiled. ‘Ah it is story time. I know my moleskin shoes are wonder shoes. I saved  the wonder of..’

“Shoes?” asked one.

Seating next to him I said,’my story. It has to do with moles and I had a capital idea of going into business of making shoes.

I would have launched into it capital outlay and production cost and the whole rigmarole of setting up a factory and so on. But as one who loved to tell stories I knew these were of no use at the moment.

I knew it was the story of moles what brought me there and not what I do with their skin.’

One traveler immediately thrust a bumper of hooch onto my hand and said,’Here this is one me. Only make the story smooth and as silky as taste.

I thanked him and said,’I am Dr. Fixi-It and I have just come after saving the world. In order to do that let me briefly touch upon my job. I fix whatever problems there may be. This story hangs on a little hiccup called Nuclear Waste. And it is what I intend to tell you right now. You heard of  spent fuel rods?

‘Oh yes, something nuclear I believe.’ one said brightly. I explained as quickly as possible the difficulty in getting rid of the high-level waste. In a flash I moved on to its disposal. ‘Bury them under  the ocean floor, storing it underground, and shooting it into space. Then I set my assistants to search high and low for a solution. But I found a mole right in front of the lab. A mole was messing up a flower bed for a week. I hit upon the idea of using moles to solve it for us.’ The travelers must have noticed the strange cunning smile and said,’Oh Dr. Fix-It drink up your whiskey. You look like one in need.’. How could I refuse them and said,’Oh yes. I set up a mole farm where I fed them with nuclear waste little by little.. The moles were soon hooked on to the stuff. It was better than “deep geological disposal!”. (to be continued)

Read Full Post »

Patient to the eye doctor: Oh doc,  I can’t see. I am going blind.

Doctor: Don’t worry. I can see,

2.

Patient: I can only see large letters.

Doctor (relieved),’You will find no difficulty, My bills are all for large figures.’  

benny

Read Full Post »

The world didn’t come to end since time was found hanging on my hands. Imagine! It still is.
benny

Read Full Post »

1.
“Boss, I am trying to see the man behind the Gucci you wear. Am I seeing the pair or your double face?

2.
The stud: a lot more would have loved me had I downplayed my act.

3.
The family that prays together could have stayed longer till some joker brought a glock handgun and said to them ,’Here is what I got as answer to my prayers.’
benny

Read Full Post »

Imagine my boss fired me. I tried correcting him. I said, ‘You are fired up and I am under fire.’
2.
‘Boss I could have worker harder if the clock on the wall beat faster.’
3.
All these happened in one day’s work.
The last straw was when my boss found me taking dictation and he said in a fury, ‘Must you take it all lying down, Ben?’
‘Oh you feel sorry that I have no self respect. If it is of some comfort,’I haven’t written any what you said.’
It was at that moment he got all fired up.
Of course you think I am telling lies.
Why should I?
My laidback lifestyle is no more accurate than your saying, ’the sun rises on the east.’ It isn’t worth getting up to prove you wrong.

Warning: Don’t try this at your workplace.
benny

Read Full Post »

The time I was in the Constellation CTA579 I had a strange encounter with a cat. I remember it all too clearly. It was a morning and I was in the doghouse counting my blessings having nothing to do. I heard strange sounds. Someone was catfooting around and I sneezed. I knew the cat’s fur was flying around. Being left to yourself in doghouse most of the time you know these things by sixth sense. I was grounded because I took a liking for the postman’s calf the evening before. My master thought a dog that missed a burglar at the job was bad; but to mistake a postman for a bone was worse. Oh I am digressing.

The cat seeing me hollered,’Be prepared for the Armageddon! right now.’ He had an assault rifle and he was positively grinning. The Cheshire cat could not have done better. Seeing my bored look froze him. He waved his AR-15 to say he had everything under control. He just said ‘Hi Kiddo!’

It made me see red. Imagine being insulted by a cat! He was not even a ginger cat; nor did have boots. I merely said “I am Fido!’ There fell a painful silence. The cat was feeling nervous looking sillier by the minute. Whereas being grounded I thought it was left to the cat to make the first move. No way. The cat was shaking all over and had no nerve to twitch even a muscle. Meanwhile a parrot circled above us and said, ‘ Let me sort out this stand-off.”
I showed some misgivings. ‘Trust me, I know how to solve this. I have represented the UN many times over, negotiating. Consensus and all that.’

So I said,’ this cat has some problem. He has his barbie doll and he has been customizing it since he bought it. ‘ That was a mistake. Mr. TriPolly from Libya knew all about assault rifles and he was in a rapid fire patter telling about the rifle, now almost slipping from the cat’s paw. I heard him  say  it was the civilian version of the military’s M-16 and M-4, a logical choice for anyone whose goal was to kill a lot of people in a short time because of their ability to rapidly fire multiple high-velocity rounds.’

I was catching on fast and I asked,’ how many rounds?’

TriPolly piped,’ It has high-capacity magazines, which feed 20 or 30 rounds at a fast pace.’ He said,’pity it is likely to jam.’

I nudged the cat to ask, ‘Did you hear that, catgut?’

 

The cat was now very maudlin. The rifle dropped out of his paw by its own weight. I took it and passed to him, asking him to hold steady. The cat took up,’ but I was told it is very therapeutic. Whole day I could change stocks, put lasers on my barbie dolls,  put locks on them,”As the cat went on narrating it the color was coming back to his eyes.  “It’s just endless. It’s like building a custom car. You can just accessorize it to your own personal taste.” He went into a nervous giggle and said, ‘Aha, see my doll, pink, chrome-plated AR-15. Isn’t she a beaut?’

“It’s blinged out pretty good.”I said. ‘I will tell you what I will do.’ I was for burying it as if it were a bone.’

The cat was horrified! “what I will do with time hanging on my hands? It is worse than death. It is an assault into my personal liberty!’

I said, ‘improve your mind, learn to think straight, Catgut, even playing with a ball of wool would be better.’

TriPolly was sure the cat could learn some facts. Learning to count was one way of sharpening his brain,he said, ‘In this constellation we had 300 million by census of the year of Independence. We have had ten years since then. Liberty to do as we please. We kill thirty million per year.  We have not seen any births since our women are free not to disfigure their bodies. What should be our population this year?

While the cat was wresting with the mental maths I whispered to TriPolly, ‘How come we have still  a population of 10 million not counting the number children?’

The bird shot back. ‘We live in a bad neighborhood. South of the border. You know what I mean?’ When I looked around the cat was already moving away unable to keep his gray matter together for long. Poor  Catgut! liberty was killing him inside. ‘Leave the moron to his liberty!’

benny

Read Full Post »

As one who has locked horns with corporate moghuls all my life I can tell you CV’s are OK but it is not what gets you a job. You have seen Pampalona Bull run? It is free for all. Job interviews are like the bull run. With a CV you get some mileage but as the interview gets going your tongue gets on and on,- you are not sticking to facts (Pardon,Jack Webb), you are outside the safety zone. You are treading on lot of bullshit. Out of so many applicants some get gored. In my case I am bored. I got to have some vital facts: like my salary,vacation time.
Let me tell you some hands on fact: both are put- offs.

In my case I always let curiosity get an early start. Like asking, ‘How much are you gonna pay me?’. To ask such a question after handing a CV that could have penned by Webster himself is a potential red flag. Your language on paper is precise and faultless. Why not mind your language all the way? There is a way of mangling English, but sounding ‘pay’ at the interview is a big NO!
Every time I asked I felt a hands- on experience accompanied by a painful feeling my interlocutors are well seated around a table and I am just hitting the pavement.
In one interview the talking heads painted a glorious picture of their company philosophy and said,’We expect you to feel at home while you push profit figures.
I said,’Can I bring my hammock?’ That abruptly ended the interview. So I am wary whenever the fellows with a Buddha smile tell me to speak my mind. ‘Middle-of-the- road- attitude’ is not what they want to hear. If I elucidate my thoughts as ‘neither profit nor loss but warm my chair is what I expect for my salary, perks, bonus’ I know I will not get past the interview stage.
benny

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,389 other followers