Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Red, Yellow and Stinky

The Red. The Yellow. The Stinky.

They were cushions. On the same sofa. Each one looked different, they were placed different. They also smelled different.

Red was of course red and round, with some silly thread like lace attached around the outer edge. Yellow was yellow, square and bigger, and carried the burn from a cigarette proudly like a battle-scar. Stinky had an obscure color, much like drainage water and smelled almost like it. Part of its entrails were always hanging out like someone did a partial disemboweling. They lived on the same sofa. So close, so alike and so very different.

Their conversations were usually centered around who (or at times what) sat on them. Work place chatter was not different with the three. There were complaints, foul language and some occasional sobbing. Red was usually angry and foul mouthed. Yellow was apathetic and had a wicked sense of humor. Stinky was a cry baby and was suicidal according to Red.

Friday. It was an exceptionally bad day for Red and it was foaming at the mouth. This usually happened around early Friday mornings. 4 am to be precise.

Thursday evening is when an expatriate calls together his/her tribe and tries to find meaning for their existence through war cries, in a plate of fried chicken, at the bottom of liquor bottles. The program usually goes on till next day early morning until one by one, everyone falls asleep.

The guy wearing only a skirt (?) had buried his face in Stinky. A drool approximately 10 cm long had partially dried across Stinky. Stinky, who harbored DNA from another 100 odd people on him, wasn’t pleased but had given up a long time ago to complain. Red, on the other hand was yelling profanity at another guy who was fully clothed but had involuntarily urinated on Red. “Get off me, you dead punctured pencil di*k”. Only the voice was heard. Red was somewhere under the vast expanse of humanity wearing the world’s largest boxer shorts. Yellow was comparatively in a better position and had the best spot in the room. Someone had picked up and flung Yellow high up in the air under a schnockered fit of energy and had it stuck on a ceiling fan. The ceiling fan was still rotating very slowly. Yellow felt giddy.

But Yellow couldn’t help listening to the profanity arising from under the boxer shorts.
“Red, is that you talking, or is that guy’s arse? It all sounds the same, me think!”
“It would, if you were here too, you prick. In fact, you belong here. Matches your color”, retorted Red.
“What a time to discriminate against color!” mumbled Stinky, trying not to breathe in the drying drool.

There were more people in the room. One snored like a spluttering genset. Another had his mouth open and a house fly buzzed around it, as it was afraid to go in. There was a dead fly inside the open mouth. Figures.

The clock struck 10. The guy in a skirt jumped up and broke his drool-connection with Stinky. He looked around through wilting eyes and wrinkled his nose at the boxer shorts. The smell of urine was apparent. He got up, adjusted his skirt, lifted a leg and ripped a lengthy one. The boxer shorts lifted a head in the opposite direction and asked, “Who?”
“You meant WHAT, fatass”, muttered Yellow from above.

The sound of flatulence worked like an alarm clock and slowly human forms got off from their resting places. Red let out a cry. He was soaked in urine. Stinky was laughing at Red’s predicament.
“Ha ha ha…finally they found some use for your sorry ass!”

The guy with the open mouth looked up and saw Yellow doing his rounds on the fan. He climbed on to a coffee table and retrieved Yellow. The big guys in the boxer shorts was looking apologetic was trying to explain something to the guy in the skirt. Others also had joined the conversation. The big guy had Red in front of him pressed against the area wet with his own pee. Stinky was still laughing at Red. The big guy got up, snatched Yellow from the other guy and stuck him to his posterior. Stinky sounded hysterical with laughter.

 “You got it all covered in between you, don’t you guys!...Ha ha!”

That’s when the guy in the skirt snatched Stinky and puked his guts out on to it.

Red & Yellow (in chorus): You didn’t get all covered dude. He forgot the corners!

1 comment:

deeps said...

thats some imagination thrown in there...

Sauce by the side