A Twat's Tangled Tale

I had been travelling for a couple of weeks, and when I opened the old familiar door to enter our rooms, I found him bent over something on the kitchen counter. Having made sure that I had created enough noise to signal my arrival, I was about to shout out a greeting when his irritated hand suddenly waved me over to the couch. I sat there sulking over the lack of gusto in greeting, especially since I had been away for about a month. There was nothing of the enthusiasm that I had expected or the exclamations that I had looked forward to, about the matted hair, the Hindu tattoo, the earrings and then, endless questions about the incidents in the Holy hills of the Indian peninsula.

Finally, he looked up from the subject of his examination, and stretched like an animal that had been crouching for hours.

“You’ve got a tan. Never mind that. You could certainly listen to my story? Sit down and listen up”

“Very well, give me my drink, and let’s hear your story”, I said, a bit sullen.

“I was quite bored the other day, and walked in to Shakespeare’s Head for a pint and to see if I could get a fascinating story out of some drunken fool. I got my pint and sat down at the bar, when the man next to me turned to me and blurted something about a Guinness being very fattening. I glared at him. You’re laughing, you old wolf! Please, I can afford Guinness. Anyways, we got talking and he started lamenting about the poor proportion of ‘decent chicks’ at that place, and other such things. After exchanging a couple of such remarks, I told him that I was heading out for a smoke. He followed uninvited, and we managed to get out, avoiding a group of kids trying to drink their beers with undue haste. Outside, after my new companion, Graham, had borrowed a smoke and a light, we resumed our conversation, this time talking about ‘those fit pieces’. He then started praying to his Gods, and after ascertaining my religion, to mine; praying for some ‘time’ with one of His best creations passing by. You wouldn’t believe it, but, as if to answer his prayers, a rather attractive blonde walked up to him and asked him for a smoke. You would find her very appealing. Cursing his luck at not carrying a pack, he looked at me, hoping that I would provide the lady with her request, and vanish quietly into the background. Being full of the milk of human kindness, I did exactly that. I did stay back to hear most of her story though. She was celebrating her birthday, with her best friend, whom she knew from her childhood, and her boyfriend, with whom she had been for about six months. She was enjoying the party, swaying to the music and so on, when she realised that her companions were missing. After a rather long search, she found them in an irrevocably uncompromising position, with some evil bubbly. Rightfully indignant, she planted two slaps, on their crimson countenances, and, as anyone else would do, walked straight out the place. After relating this rather interesting tale, she melted into my companion’s eager arms. I haven’t met this Graham since, but, I’ve every reason to believe that his evening was the best that he could have hoped for.”

The story was rather disappointing. “Interesting”, I said, “Anyway, what were you looking at there?”

“Oh, a growth of fungus over some pickle. Extremely fascinating. Was white about a week back, and now it’s turning blue. You should follow it.”