Fiction, humour

The Master Piledriver

First posted at ArtoonsInn. The writing prompt had five distinct words which had to be incorporated into a story which I attempted…

Abhay  cautioned his friend, “Shhh, Rakesh…here comes The Master. Stand up, bow and then kneel. Remember, you have to stay on your knees for the entire session.”

“I know, I know. You don’t have to remind me. Kneeling on my knees for so long would be torturous. But I now ready to do anything for curing my piles. I am just too wabbit. I can most certainly exchange a few hours of pain in my knees with the pain in my…”, Rakesh whispered.

“Shhh…no bad words please. The Master is capable of curing all ailments of his true disciples. One can feel the Aura as soon as he makes an entry into the room. Don’t you feel it?”, Abhay said.

“Yes, yes. Whatever you say. But what is the quid pro quo?”, asked Rakesh.

“Now what is that, Rakesh. You do have a penchant for talking in riddles. Always flaunting your elite upbringing  aren’t you?”, Abhay asked sarcastically.

“OK, let me put it bluntly for you my friend. What is The Master expecting in return for curing me? He must want or seek something,  isn’t it? I am surprised he doesn’t take any donations from his disciples”, Rakesh wondered loudly.

“The Master is the most enlightened being in this entire Firmament. This is his lila. This world is his stage and we are the players. Be patient.”, Abhay admonished his friend.

“Means? Like a drama? What are we supposed to do? I can’t act, damn it. Let’s get out of here, Abhay. Enough of spirituality for me. I will again meet the Doctor. A different one perhaps but not this, please”, uttered a panicky Rakesh.

“I said, be patient. Your impatience is now getting on my nerves. You will not be required to act in a drama. No one knows what The Master will come up with. Let’s wait and watch”, Abhay comforted his friend.

“Now what are these people bringing? What are those shiny things? Oh my God. Swords! Is it allowed?”, asked a perspiring Rakesh.

“Umm…seems to be so. Oh no, I think these are machetes”, Abhay enlightened.

Whatever man. They look too sharp. What will The Master make us do now? Are we supposed to duel with each other? Don’t swing too hard at me Abhay, someone might get hurt”, a visibly concerned Rakesh blurted.

“You and your imagination. I would never have brought you here but you were insistent. Now please keep your nerves and sit tight”, Abhay admonished his friend.

“I am sitting tight since long. Oh, it’s pains so much, I have to sit tight. And why are these attendants keeping the machetes with the edge up, on the floor? What are they going to do now? And why doesn’t The Master speak? Is he on Maun Vrat?”, Rakesh rattled on.

“Shh…look, The Master has opened his eyes. That means he is ready to speak. Please concentrate now. Look at that miracle, his attendants are walking on the matchete edge. Wow!”, a truly Mesmerized Abhay spoke to himself.

“Look, The Master is watching everyone. Be prepared, he will ask anyone randomly. You might be the lucky one”, Abhay continued.

“Yes, vatsa. What ails you? Whatever it is, please share your troubles with me. Trust me. And you won’t be disappointed”, so spake The Master finally.

“Pssst…Rakesh, it’s you he is asking.  Oh, you are so blessed.”

“Master, I suffer from piles. And it pains; I am not able to sit for long.” Rakesh was blunt and to the point.

“Come my friend. Come near me. While coming, please do walk on this pathway. Just like you saw my attendants do. Assure you that you will forget your piles suffering in a jiffy”, said The Master with a beatific smile.

“Whaat? What do you want me to do? This is impossible. Abhay! You be happy with this nonsense. I am not going to walk on blades to cure my piles. I am going…”, thundered a flabbergasted Rakesh.

“But…but, Rakesh. Please wait.  Don’t insult The Master thus. Wait…I said wait”, cried Abhay.

 

Fiction, humour

Rattled

First posted on #ArtoonsInn…

The clock struck twelve. The repeated hammering of the ancient gong dislogded timid Tony from his hiding place in the clock and in his hurry, he fell right into the path of Mrs. Batliwala. She screamed in terror, let go of the bone china bowl of hot soup and gave out a blood curdling scream. 

The shrill scream reverberated in Tony’s ears and he tried to scamper away and found the nearest dark recess to hide himself. Unfortunately it turned out to be the ample pyjamas of old Mr. Batliwala who jumped up from the rocking chair in fright. The beer glass toppled over, Mr. Batliwala pushed against the wooden table and lost his balance. As he fell backwards, Tony struggled to break free of the pyjamas and just managed to avoid getting squashed under the ample bottom of Mr. Batliwala.

Timid Tony rushed to his hideout, the drainage pipe just outside the verandah of the Batliwala’s. This part of the neighborhood was the haunt of Dirty Purry, the evil feline. But the noon wasn’t the bread earning hour of Dirty Purry, hence Tony was safe for now. Safe with his family, whom he had settled inside.

“What did you get for lunch, you good for nothing fellow?”, screamed a shrewish Mrs. Tony.

“I…I…I…” squeaked poor Tony.

“What I…I…I… you are just not cut out for the man race. My parents ruined my life by marrying me off to a nincompoop like you. And me…how the hell did I fall for your sqeaky clean image?” She continued to stare at her husband scornfully.

“Learn something from your brother, Rancid Ronny. Such a foul smelling fellow living in the old neighborhood of the gutters. But see, he hasn’t failed to feed his equally caustic wife, Rita during his entire lifetime.” Mrs. Tony was in a belligerent mood tonight.

“And look at you. No capacity to get some cheese in the pipe but can’t control the carnal urges! Who the hell will feed these 21 twintuplets?”

As if on cue, all the twintuplets started singing a high pitched song of hunger. “Squee…squee”, they cried out in unison.

Unable to bear it any longer, Tony pressed his ears with his forelimbs, then held his head while closing his eyes tightly.

“Yes, I knew that. You will now feign depression. Don’t you know, the great Woman says that there is no such thing as depression. Mental health issues are all hocus-pocus. Everyone wants to run their own shop and so do you.

“Here, take this bamboo strip and discipline your hyperactive brood. While I go out and do what is needed to feed them”. Mrs. Tony was quite egoistic about her ability to subdue her hubby and provide for the family.

Tony watched her retreating form and heaved a sign of relief. Once she was out of sight, he jiggled his tiny bottom and stretched out beside his brood of twintuplets.

Soon, he was assured of something to eat.