The secret source of humour is not joy, but sorrow.
-Mark Twain

Humour and good taste are contradictions.
Like a chaste whore.
-George Bernard Shaw

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Thursday, September 27, 2007
The Abhorrence

        Peedpop was standing at a precipice. He looked determined and was totally deaf to the crowd yelling below. And then he saw her face. Radiant. Vaseline teary. Reddish and swollen.
        She ran forward and shouted, "#$ #@#..! #@#..! #@#...!!". Zero response.
        Peedpop gingerly took a step forward. He looked as if he was waiting for the auspicious second. Five minutes later, after a splitting headache, she came running from behind and said the golden three words, breathlessly. Those three unspeakable words; never to be uttered, except under dire circumstances; three words that apparently made Peedpop's life or death. Peedpop stared.
        "@###, $%#$ &^& $##@#$..?", Peedpop asked.
        "$$$$ @@@$!#$ @$ 431$$5$ 5$@% ...!!" , she replied.
        Peedpop looked dumbstruck.
        "Do you really, !@@# #@#@...?", he asked with a spot of surprise still left in him.
        She answered with a bright, Canadian flag-red blush.
        Peedpop was beyond himself and instantly went mad. He clutched his hair in disbelief and ran around in circles. He suddenly stopped and went close to her. He gingerly touched her face. She looked down, coyly averting her eyes, still blushing away furiously.
        The scene changed to vast, ice-covered hills and it started.

Male: ##@!@@#, @#$$%..%%#!2...
Female:@#$%%$ 5! %$! %$#$% 66&& &^#!@!....

Male: $# %^ ^& 8( )(( 76 77 78$$#$....
Female: Lightning, $$3 543 @! 2%^ %% Reebok $# % $%@$1...

Male: @#!@$% laser #$3 #$@!#$%%^.....
Female: #$! #$# %%$# !# %%^&^ ^^ ()@!....!!

Male: Aaaaaaaaaaaooooo...
Female: Mmmmmm He.. he.. he.. ooooohhhh..

Male: #$ # @$#@ !@$ % pedal cycles % &^%#...
Female: ! @# @$^&* *&* &* &&& George Michael *&*** &% #@#$...

        And so it went on and on. Unsurprisingly, Peedpop was wearing a bright red toga and his fiancee was showing off her midriff in a bright green blouse and an yellow skirt, that looked as if it was tailored for a baby. As she shook her hips from left to right that lifted her skirt even higher, Peedpop desperately tried to invade her navel. A bunch of foreigners were staring at the pantomime, faintly amused. Peedpop moved all his limbs in multiple directions, more or less like the Vitruvian Man in spasms. She was enraptured by his movements and joyfully jumped monkey-style into his arms. He groaned, but held on. It went on. And on. The skirt rose higher with every passing minute. With all the ice around, how the hell did she not get hypothermia, is a question that has its answer shrouded in mystery. Or shall I say, unshrouded?

        That was the last time I saw a Kannada movie.

Posted at 04:09 am by sirpy

 

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