Bug.

A bug bit me in the morning and I squashed it; and I forgot about it. Now it's midnight and I remember my past. Back in those days, I was a bug. I was despised and then I was squashed by a man. I turned into a man and the man turned into a bug. Now I can feel myself turning into a bug!

Abracadabra.

Stuck inside a magician’s hat, once lived a little white bunny. All the kids loved him, but he hated it in there. IT was a clumsy place, but what he hated most was that he had to co-exist with a dozen doves, couple of thorny rose bushes and an egg or two among many other knick-knacks. He wanted to be surprised, like those kids were when they saw him. He wanted to run into those lovely looking bushes. He wanted to breathe fresh air.

He waited for his chance to escape. He was very patient and one day he escaped.

And off he ran and ran and ran. Then suddenly an even bigger hand picked him up - and he found himself slowly being raised out of an even bigger hat.

Desdemona

I vividly remember the day she came to me - she was suffering and the moment I saw her I understood her ailment. I had seen it before and I knew her end was near.

She walked in haughtily into my consulting room and told me she was Desdemona. I asked her what’s with all the paint on her face. She said she was a dancer, a performer. She travels from town to town, dancing in front of the crowd, taking care of her old mother with whatever she collects.

I told her what she knew already. She was calm. I told her that another patient with the same problem is waiting inside the room. It was a cat, a tomcat. 

It was a seed, a seed which penetrates your limbs and grows inside your thighs; grows into a full grown thorny plant inside you, killing you from inside. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

I saw her the next evening - her body along with an old woman’s, floating in the river, like a tableau in a carnival. Her face was still painted, her eyes - her eyes were staring at me. She was still that performer she always were. And, it is the same face I see every night in my dreams, making me wake up every single time, drenched in cold sweat.

Superstitious.

The wake up alarm pierced through his dream. He woke up smiling. He didn’t remember much of his dream but he was sure it was a happy dream. And he almost already knew that his day was fucked. But what he didn’t know then was that this was his last day.

He smoke his first cigarette of the day in the toilet and took his shower. He checked the mirror and thought twice about shaving and then decided against it. He went back to his seat and waited for the warden to call for breakfast. That was when the bomb blasted.

He had never thought of escaping, even once. The jail-life was part of his resignation to the fate. But when one finds the whole jail in chaos and a huge hole in one’s cell’s wall, the only thing one cannot think is about not running away.

There is some reason why the jail dress is in stripes of black and white - and that is because it makes it terribly conspicuous. And that might also be the reason why zebras are supposed to have a very high reproducing rate - so they say!

He had never been to a college in his sane life. But that was where he went right away. He went there and exchanged his jail uniform for a normal looking t-shirt. (Whoa dude! Real jail dress! Cool! O it’s ok, you can keep the cigarette pack.)

He then went to his old boss’s place. He was surprised, but was happy to have him back. (Half pay jobs; desperate jail bird.) He was told to take a day’s rest and come back the next day.

With the money he got from the boss, he went to his regular bar to down a couple of drinks and get a girl perhaps.

The alarm bell rang and he woke up. He didn’t remember much of his dream but he was sure it was a happy dream. And he almost already knew that his day was fucked.

Hallowed Be Thy Name!

"So you say, that people won't take people seriously unless they are dead?"

"Well not exactly, but almost."

"Every single second a person dies; maybe more than a person. So they are all going to be glorified? What are you smoking?"

"See, that's what I said not exactly but almost. You are an ok guy, good but not yet great. The crux is that, the greatness, the greatness comes only when you are glorified. Van Gogh was not big till he died. The same for Franz Kafka. Galileo, nobody cared what he did when he was alive."

"Hmmm! You are kind of making sense now."

"Same goes for that  John Doe."

"Which John Doe, I never heard of him."

"Exactly my point my friend, he is not dead yet."

"So, people even though they are great, will not be gratified, as you say, until they die."

"Yes, but mind you, all are not gratified. You know Fagin, the guy who was hanged?"

"Of course, he came over to my grave last eve to get some gin."

"Well, next time he comes, let me know, he owes me something."

Recession.

"Hey you! How are you?"

"Hey, I am good, thank you and you?"

"Good - you did not come to the shop today, why?"

"O come on friend, there is nothing to do there. No one visits us. I would rather sit at home and fret than in that godforsaken place and between the flies."

"Come on don't loose heart my friend. The days of the splendid Magic Carpet, will return. Just going through a rough patch, aren't we? Don't loose heart, my friend!"

"My mate, we both know what you are saying is just sweet talk. Nobody needs a magic carpet now. They have fast planes, choppers, balloons and what more? I have heard that they can even control the climate inside those planes."

"Control the climate? Are you nuts! Only the God can control the climate. Someone gave you all these stupid ideas didn't they? And look at you, you have believed them totally, you stupid moron!"

"No my friend, what I am saying is true. My own brother told me. He even travelled in one. They have the same calm climate all over the time. They serve food. They play songs. They have wine and women."

"Well, no offense, but that brother of yours has always been a liar, a trouble maker. He stole my sister's necklace and left the town once right? If I were you, I wouldn't believe him."

"He is a trouble maker, that I agree. And I am still sorry for your sister's necklace. But hasn't he travelled far and wide? Hasn't he brought home silk that is not silk but better than silk? I trust him when I should trust him."

"Well you know what - I don't! And you better come to the shop tomorrow. Good day!"

"Good day to you too, my friend."