I have, of late, had the misfortune of unconsciously - and in fact, unwillingly - cultivating the great Mr. Pyllay, resident lecherous crotch-scratching Gollum here in This World. His regard for me saw this unfortuntate rise since he has come to know of Palakaddan roots. After a long monologue on the Bharatapuzha and the effect of some waterfall on fat people, he has now placed me with his favourite mallu few.
Such irony. Last trimester, I tried it all. I even borrowed Real Mal's very mal salwar to wear to his viva, donned a pottu, with my damp hair in the mal kulichupinnal. And he slept through it. Now, I want him to ignore me. But, oh no. Now, he refers to me as The Great Madam. Seriously, what kind of goddamned salutation is that? And wants me to make some ranDOM presentation on this most absolutely ranDOM section in definitely the ranDOMest Companies Act, 1956. AND, I am still do the goddamned projects.
Life is being really difficult with me. And what do I do? Get baked, and be difficult back to it. So, now I don't know if This World is fucking with me, or I am fucking with This World.
No comments:
Post a Comment