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Archive for the ‘humor’ Category

 

(Young Murtius is on the run from a one-camel town and he is heading towards Istanbul but a minor hitch in his travel plans finds him making a hole in the water. He has to make a deal with a great white shark. He promises another one in his place. The selected passage is from the episode How the Pirate Kept His Promise.– B)

“The water was cold, and being a good swimmer he swam for all his worth. Much more was his grim determination since he saw a spectre from underwater bearing upon him.

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It was a great white shark, which surfaced as if out of nowhere. The murderous shark didn’t waver but made a beeline towards him and it meant business. He gave a stiff competition to it. He was saved in time. …It was at that moment two pairs of hands had reached out to draw him up. One turned him over slapping till he had spat out the water and he could breathe freely. He also saw a cherubic face peering at him. Through the mists of wakefulness that follows near death experience he saw the face was curious and was holding out something to him. In a trice he imagined, an angel had come down, to save him. Just as what that old monk in Heliopolis had been telling.

The angel in a tarbush was large and he was coaxing him to drink what he held in his hands. He came around after a hot cup of tea he found himself in a strange vessel and the owner of the vessel, a rather stout fellow beaming at his chance find with unconfined joy. The wet bedraggled man in his early twenties was thankful him. While his host was drying him out and chatting to keep him hold to the present he recalled the shark. He shivered to think he had a deal on his hand.  He knew he would come across the shark again.

The sign of the shark did show a crescent moon. A distinctive mark on its dorsal fin.

Murtius thought it meant Istanbul where the streets in his mind’s eye had already acquired a 24- karat look.

His saviour, a stick-in-the mud type however didn’t have plans to take him to Istanbul but to his home in Izmir. He asked the youth what his name was. He said, “Black Hand.” Those five fellows, who had revenged on him by throwing him overboard, called him Black Hand as they dumped him into the waters. Murtius said simply, “Black Hand”. The name stuck.

Murtius was thus in the boat of Tayyab whose wealth had made Izmir synonymous for watermelons. His savior as he could see was still ecstatic of casaba (a variety of winter melons) of which everything that was to be known he had imparted to his ward; the young man realized in whichever way he changed the subject, it somehow rolled back to casaba. He had nothing personal against watermelons. But. If anyone did think of forming an Anti-Casaba League, he was sure he would have put his name down in the first place.

Naturally his biggest let down was yet to come. In that little effusion of the milk of human kindness Tayyab had acquired a slave for nothing.

“I have been greatly mistaken!” Black Hand exclaimed as he set his foot on the soil of Izmir. Instead of gold he was picking watermelons for his master who made him work from sunrise till sundown. Whom he had thought was an angel made sure he worked till he dropped off in fatigue; where he believed in divine intervention from an untimely death, his master believed in the redeeming nature of work. He had cucumbers and sour yogurt day in and day out. Tayyab intended to get the worth of every ounce of food he doled out to him. He had no choice but eat what little he got to stay alive. All work and no play made him cunning, inhumanly cunning. He knew he needed to lie low as low as his spirits. Before long his rock-hard belief in destiny was floundering. “By the beard of Mar Chrys-o-stom,” he asked in disgust, “what Destiny were you talking me into?”

Two years of hard labour however paid dividends. In his case he was taken out from dirt and put in a not so seaworthy felucca. He was all for a watery grave than rubbing his nose any more in the dirt. So he happily took control of the Casaba. The first time he smelled the sea after two years of drudgery and felt its salty spray on his cheeks he thought it was time he gave Destiny a not so gentle nudge…”

Selected from the Horrible Adventures of Captain Black Hand by Q-bitz available through Amazon

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The book The Horrible History of Captain Black Hand authored by Q-Bitz is available: https://www.createspace.com/7591813

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Whenever I look at the mirror on a grey Monday morning after a weekend binge I could crawl. The mirror of course lies. Retching and falling in drunken stupor was the night before. The mirror has had no way knowing my love with bottle. Yet when I pause before I lather I have a sneaking feeling it points an accusatory finger. I have shrunk several sizes.

The other day I was promoted over several others to the No.2 Position. When I walked past the cubicles of my former workmates, I looked at my reflection next to the cooler. I almost was blown over. I looked 10 feet tall. Till I meet my father-in law who is the numero uno. I flop instantly and have a whipped cur look. SometimesI think we human are really rubber ball or elastic that some unseen hand pull and bounce around.

My finances are nothing much but I look well heeled. Everytime  my wife palaver with women over some gala events,-it is a rehash of Real Beverly Hills housewives . Always I hear my take-home pay is grown astronomical. Whenever I mutter some cuss-words she has a laugh and tells, ” I just want to make the girls green with jealously.’ Between us we have a tacit agreement whenever she speaks of her age,- always two decades knocked out, I should keep a straight face. It is fine since a couple of drinks make me see nothing straight in the horizon nor anything in the drawing room.

Now after living through several avatars I am not sure it is plain lying or laziness to play by the cards on the table. I always have an ace up in my sleeve. Ever since in primary school I took a picture of Ronald Coleman and said it was the snapshot of my father. Unfortunately I was sitting in the class of a teacher who had played the same card before me.  He made me stand for the rest of the day holding a card LIAR. In fact I all along thought the teacher was asking me to remind him of his fib. You see my name by right is Billy Liar. It never connected. Not even this day.

Benny

 

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Among my fellow practitioners I was at the same spot at the same rush hour as I did every other 364 day, pan handling. I scraped my pan with my wooden spoon. Every other beggar was doing the same. The noise must have ratcheted up a few decibels the cop on the beat  swiveled around to bark, “Beat it.”

“This aint drum ,-and no retreat either,” I said like a pro.

Seeing his sickly smile I said, ” I found a rabbit foot this morning. A lucky day for me, Pennies from heaven, sure. ” I told him to stick around. Poor fellow he beat a hasty retreat.

Hardly I went back to scraping all the beggars were scraping their pans and I felt I was the conductor and the orchestra was there to follow suit.

The beggars said, “Success smiles on us fellows!”

Suddenly there was a bang! ear splitting one at that. Pieces of people whatever left of them flying before their legs could catch up with them. What carnage! what bedlam.

Before we caught on what was happening a miracle!

Our pans were filled to brim with nails, ball bearings and iron rivets and what not. We beggars looked at the days earnings . No word was necessary. All that metal would fetch a couple of thousand pounds. No pennies from heaven. Who cares?

Scraping pans louder brings luck for beggars everywhere, I believe.

benny

 

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Any one can make excuses and here are mine:

Trump at the White House: I am here for a short visit: May be it is a fantastic thing, they may not renew my nut job.
Flynn: I shall clear my throat. Ah I am taking my fifth
Julius Caesar: ‘Never mind this falling sickness, it is a moral thing. And this too shall pass off.’
Octavius Caesar on finding Cleo dead on his arrival: ” what a poor excuse by dying on me! Now I have to build Rome in marble all by myself.’
Washington refusing a third term,’Not to the Capitol I will. You will have to take me in a wallet instead’ Since then he is on a dollar bill.
Otto von Bismarck: Blood and Iron! I made with these Germany above all. Now I need dialysis and iron supplements if I have to keep my job.
Einstein laying his violin aside,’I have this wonderful melody, e=mc2 but I can’t play it for nuts. So I will just write out the score’.
Captain Schettino,’ Me abandon ship!I just went out to get some fresh air.’

(Sorry I just rehashed some old excuses to keep this post long enough-benny)

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Samuel Foote(1720-1777) wit
Dear Son,
I am in prison for debt; come and assist your loving mother.-E. Foote

Dear Mother,
So am I; which prevents his loving duty being paid to his loving mother.-Your affectionate son.
Samuel Foote
P.S_ I have sent my attorney to assist you; in the mean time let us hope for better days.

Living too well on oysters wine and roses is as bad as having to gnaw at the bones since dog of my Lord Hi-n-Mighty has got marrow.

But at what cost is to bay at the moon of one percenters while worms are frisky and waiting to be had, and the apple is within reach?
ii
John Ruskin (1819-1900)

John Ruskin once received a request for donation to pay off the mortgage of the Duke Street Chapel and I have given here below an excerpt of his reply. It would seem he was addressing our present world; and for those who want buy now and pay later it may even be an eye opener!
Brentwood, 19 May,1886,
Sir,
I am scornfully amused at your appeal to me, of all people in the world the precisely least like to give you a farthing! My first word to all men and boys to hear me is”Don’t get into debt. Starve and go to heaven-but don’t borrow. Try first begging_ I don’t mind if it’s really needful_stealing!. But don’t buy things you can’t pay for!”….
Isn’t it surprising how what we hold up as a virtue and a proof of a solid character is chipped away so slowly that none notices the enervation of personal values? In his essay ‘Unto This Last’ Ruskin wrote ‘There is no wealth but life.’
Dulled senses of a person who has chased a mirage at the cost of his or her personal values,-character, take the place as a slave driver. No pity or no worthwhile example but the constant goading the person to acquire branded items that he or she doesn’t really need. The victim scarcely notices what is branded right through the flesh to the spirit.

Moral: Virtues of one Age are the vices of another. Capitalism invented mass consumerism and made the bible for the lost and the damned. One only needs to see the mess we are all in.

benny

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I am at the end of my tether. I have this slightly damaged goods and I tried all, but the thing has outplayed my hands. I could burn the whole thing up. But then it would make all my sweat and bother not worth the while.

I shall sell the world lock, stock and barrel. Whoever buys it off my hands then shall I leave the hell. It would be fun.

Let me see my little black book: under equivocation: ‘speak with a forked tongue but a mallet on the head makes carry the day.’ See Syria for instance. At Geneva they lie their heads off and they can teach me a trick of two. Imagine I who made a lie stick in their throat now am at the risk of drowning in the flood. They produce enough to drown the world and few besides in it. No I shall not have it. Sell it any price.

Now let me check what I had noted under persuasion:

‘Give the weak and defenseless some bromide to buck their spirits up. Say liberty and they are ready to break the chains off the ankles of half the world.

‘That is persuasion for you. But the Panama Papers show how wet I am behind my ears.

Now recalling how I went about all across the world whispering the buzz word into their ears all I have got two alien tribes living cheek by jowl yet oblivious of each other.

Under education I had scrawled in my illegible hand. ‘Curiosity kills the cat but fat cats know how to kill curiosity.’ The world is reeling under a strange disease of FOMA. Does a man who has never bothered to know what he is really require so much external stimuli? He has information to drown three worlds and he is showing early symptoms of info crunch. Eternal youth for him with such symptoms is a crime. I shall not be held to account for it.

I am Satan but even I have some scruples. I shall sell the world lock, stock and barrel. Whoever buys it off my hands then shall I leave the hell. It would be fun.

 

benny

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