Thursday, June 2, 2011

The Dark Night

Sorry for the hiatus. Was a li'l busy giving away autographed copies of my best-seller *still* looking for my underwear. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I managed to misplace them in a freak accident. All my attempts at locating them were pretty much futile until two days ago. But ever since then, some really strange things seem to be happening.

It all began on a dark and stormy night (apparently nights can be bright, too). Clouds floated ominously. Thunder crackled thunderously. And normally, it would be accompanied by lightning, but on this particular night, it was not free. (Plus, it was a dark and stormy night, remember? Jeez.)

There was something very eerie about the night. I was trying to read a book but the creepiness of the atmosphere had an unsettling effect. Suddenly, the sound of wood creaking pierced the hallway. I quickly turned to look back. The door was now ajar.

"That's strange," I thought, "how did the door become a jar?"

My contemplations were interrupted shortly by what seemed to be a shadowy figure standing in the pathway leading up to my house. Barely visible against the moonlit lawn, I strained my eyes to get a closer look. Before I could discern what it was, the doorbell rang.

I slowly approached the door, and my fingers trembled as I turned the knob that controlled the volume of my music player.

Then, I opened the door by unlatching it.

It took my eyes a few moments to take in what I saw.

I was in the kitchen now. I quickly realised that this was the wrong door, and proceeded to open the front door. There was someone standing on the porch. It was me. There was also someone standing about a foot away from where I stood. I beckoned her to come in.

So what happened was that some chick had randomly come over. She was holding my hand in her package. She was holding her package in my hand. She was holding my package in her hand. She seemed vaguely familiar, and yet, I didn't seem to know her at all.

I was like, "Do I know you?"

And she was like, Penelope Cruz. More like Scarlett Johansson, maybe. But I digress.

She said, "Maybe this will ring a bell." And then she pressed a button on the wall which did, indeed, ring the bell. She then handed me the package, and re-united me with my long lost inner-wear.

I was so overjoyed by this development that I felt I should make it up to her for taking the trouble to come all the way in the rain just for this. I offered to prepare some tea, but she preferred a hot cup of coffee. I said that it wouldn't possible as all my cups were made of ceramic. I'm not funny. I know.

Moving on, she was really curious when she saw my music player and began fiddling with the controls a bit. We ended up making small-talk largely pertaining to music, among other things.

Turns out she's a pretty talented Carnatic singer. Now, I had no clue what that meant, so I did what any normal person would do-- I asked.

"Hmm, so is that like a thing that you do in the car?"

"What? No, it's a form in Indian classical music."

"Oh, like the whole tribal rain dance thing?"

"No, you dumbass. Indian as in people from India, the country."

"Oh, so it's like country music then?"

"Umm, it's more like folk"

"Fork? Oh that reminds me, those cookies you're eating are poopsicle flavored. And no, that's not a spelling mistake."

She spat a mouthful of coffee on my face, and left.

I have no clue why.

Hoping to figure it out, I tried looking up stuff about music in general on the Internet. As I was surfing through Wikipedia, I was shocked to realise that although music speaks to people, it's not always telling the truth. More specifically, not all sarangis are honest--

 A lying sarangi

I know, I was devastated, too. As I delved deeper into the depths of the paedo 'pedia, I realised that a lot of things in the world aren't what they seem.

For example, inflammable is flammable.

A craps table is not a place where you can defecate. (Now they tell me)

And a blackjacking is *definitely* not what you think it is.

Wow...who knew?