Cat Molestation > Return of L.Sauron

And.just.like.that.(Forrest style) the semester’s done. There’s no stopping time is there?

After nearly infinite assignments, an infinite-1 exams, an infinite-2 hangovers, an infinite-3 “I don’t what the hell is happening” moments, infinite-4 projects that don’t make sense, infinite-5  ZZZzzzzz  on top of the table and infinite-6 lunch misses, the semester has finally come to an end. My faced looked as if a cat jumped on to my face, molested it completely and pooped a small tiny poop as I was making my way to a hotdog stand. Of course, I did try to get even on those useless “meows” as I went all Scarface inside a pet store but then again got half molested by a half alien-half fat-half ugly cat. Too many halfs.  You got my point anyways.

(Note:

If you think I exaggerate too much, you should see halal do it. He’s up there in all time exaggerate-tors hall of fame. He has a scale of over a million while he talks, so don’t blame me for stealing some of his ultra-imaginative talent.)

Meeting your Professor in an elevator is last thing you want to do. It’s not fun. I was on my way for a predefined, precisely timed discussion with my other professor when suddenly the elevator door opened to be greeted by a grinning Solid Mecha Prof.

I slowly make my way in, bowing as far down as possible. I then realize that I really need to work out. My beer belly just limits everything these days. Homer will be laughing his ass out.

I press the 12^th floor button

Prof: “Things must be tough on you”

I didn’t reply. Just nodded. My cat molested face said it all.

*the sign marks 3^rd floor* goddammit, why cant these elevators go any faster?

*awkward silence*

Prof: “So you are a Master’s degree student?”

I am the ONLY brown guy in his class and he doesn’t remember me. That’s depressing. You made me carry your laptop last week remember?

 Or do I need a shave?

Me: “I am in your solid mechanics class prof.” mustering a weak smile.

Prof: “Ah! Exams this Friday?”

Me: “you brought it forward by a day Prof”

Prof: “Right! Thursday it is”

*silence*

The “TING” sound was possibly the sweetest sound I had to hear in a while, besides that long distance voice. I bow again, the belly does it thing again, and I walk out free. That didn’t go well though.

The morning’s quarterfinal game between needs little discussion as we all know Greece got hammered by a young, fluent and exciting German side and its worth noting to see that they are possibly the once lifting the trophy in July 1^st. Certainly there’s no Torres (he just sucks these days) and Puyol (thank football gods that the monster is out injured) to spoil the party like they did in 2008 and 2010 respectively.

I will have my share of the blog till here. Unlike other guest writers that I have made requests, he seems to be only guy genuinely interested to contribute so cheers to you. I have now an urgent matter of going out and meeting new people so I will leave you with his blog.

Intro to L.Sauron here

A Dude With The Scooter

The Suzuki AN125 with black shades and luminous white tops harvested the subconscious jealousy of my friends and foes alike. The white light it reflected when the sun caressed upon its buttocks could make every saint corneous. It was truly marvelous.

The day I brought the 125, I thought with all my macho man image of myself, a self-defense mechanism to my masculinity since I had brought a scooter, that I was the Hells Angels dude “riding the lightning”. But however “Rock and Rolla” I could conceive of myself the vanity of such speculations led way to grief. Sublime grief.  I felt feminine!

The paroxysm of joy of having a brand new ride was suddenly and overwhelmingly eclipsed by the uncanny yet obvious feminine guilt which now had crawled upon my spasmodically depressed brain.  Was it the worst mistake of my youth? To buy such a womanish two wheeler or was it actually a boon in disguise. To have perceived a feeling so strange and strong that it freed me of my bawdy self-pitying sate of manhood which resented all postmodern overtly amorous man, was a ruthlessly hysterical sensation and I was the snake whilst the scooter my charmer.

I am free! I thought. To be a woman, such divine and the approval of my inner self was sincere while the Bob Dylan song sprung upon my feminine heart. The answer my friend is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the- whaaaaaaaaaam!

I crashed!

I swear I didn’t do anything. Not my fault. The rain and mud had conspired together to relieve me of this impure sensation. It was them. Now I believe in god. The 125 incomprehensively and supernaturally slipped, slided and glided and flipped in the air before crashing into the garage door of some poor old mechanic's shop.

Like in the movies

Only that it happens to the bad guys, the side kicks of the real bad guy who are just in the movie to get beaten and depict the hero’s awesome intelligence which we the audience perceive it as the bad guys are morons falling into such simple unworthy traps. Yup! I slipped like those morons. And into the rear end of a microbus.

All my new found feminine sensation? Who cares! I never felt that way again. I am a man and I stand by my balls.

Now surprisingly, the micro bus driver showed indifference to my misfortune like it happens all the time. Just like love. Any Beatles fan will remember the line:” Do you believe in love at first sight? (Paul, Ringo and George)  Yes, it happens all the time” (John). I was right. The micro driver moved on without any resent, sympathy or anger I should had caused him. It was just an accident. Well! I wish I was more right.

As I lay in the muddy not to mention filthy road and had just raised my head and conceived what had happened in super slow motion a passerby dude ran like The Flash. All I saw was the golden blaze of the Flash dude. He lifted up the scooter on its wheels and very very very very very (a hundred thousand times) moronically drew the accelerator. Since, the engine wasn’t dead and the 125 did its job to ricochet past the small crowd which had gathered and cautiously left way for the scooter with the crazy dude who was hilariously sprinting with my scooter not knowing what to do next. 

Obviously he left his hand off the scooter and without any rider or a “crazy handler” in this case, the scooter flipped up in the air after bumping at the ledge of the pavement and did a 180 in the air (just like the dirt bikers do in ESPN) and into the garage door of a mechanic’s shop.  

The colored and stoic looking imbecile stood there motionless and blue. He truly was shocked and was surely cursing his fate. I walked into the scene like a cop inquisitive of the crime while the poor chap stood there like a man who had been manipulated to commit the sin. I shook my head in disapproval of his action and calmly tried to lift the scooter and made it stand at its double-stand. Then I curiously glanced at the scooter from right to left. And from the corner of my eye I saw the guy standing there ready to pay all the fines he thought I would impose upon him. I sure did looked like a scavenging capitalist to the poor chap. His day! My political views turned to be anarcho-communism.

I patted upon his left shoulder and said, “Its okay, I know you tried to help”. The black and blue face transgressed into a happy countenance just like my friend whose face had expressed the joy when I told him it was okay to masturbate 7 times a day and all guys did it. He was in utter paroxysm of joy. I knew telepathically.

Everyone in Kathmandu knows what happens when an accident occurs or a guy with a monkey sits in a chair or a girl walks in with a mini skirt and cool shades or a guy sings a Justin Bieber song at the top of his voice (actually in this case the guy gets beaten to death, its all Megadeth here) or a person says that he hates football. A throng of people appear to speculate and analyze the situation so that they would catch the funny side of the event and tell it to their friends and have a good laugh. We all love a good laugh don’t we?  And I was the laugh to every person who ever saw my misfortune that day. All I could do was to repair the scooter and move on.

I was the side kick of the bad guy in this film. The bad guy was God.