Smiley Singh was going for a meeting wearing a red tie that matched his socks. The traffic was severe, he still kept patience. But after some time, he felt an urge to defecate. His bowels really acted ‘phunny’, for there would be constipation for 3-4 days even on eating butter chicken and galauti kebabs. And then there would be loosies (Diarrhea in formal terms, ladies and genteel men). So today was the ‘waterfall’ day. There wasn’t any Sulabh Toilet around, nor was Mohit, Pankaj or Wadhwa Toilet. Worse, he started getting jerks from down under (Not Australia, mate). His mom called to check if he had picked his paranthas, to which he said ‘no’. On being interrogated, he burped aloud and said, “Mom, thunder from down under” and hung up.
Jumping on his seat like an orangutan, his mind started to race. At 120 kms/hr, his car took just 1 minute to reach Qutub Minar. Banging the door, he ran towards the public convenience in frenzy, but the ‘thunder pangs’ made him sit down thrice at the pavement before reaching the ‘Paradise’. Empting all the butter chicken and galauti kebabs in liquid form, he stood up and realized there were spurts on his shoes. The red tie had to go.
Reaching Gurgaon was an ordeal, and he was late by an hour, but content with life. Wearing a smile, he entered the conference room. An old man wearing a red tie, looked at him angrily and asked, “What do you have to offer, Mr. Smiley?” Searching his pockets for the pen drive and not getting it, he realized it might have popped out of his pants (Trousers in formal terms, ladies and not-so-gentle men) at the Public Convenience (erstwhile paradise). He cleared his throat, swallowed the gum and answered, ‘Nothing‘.
(Exactly 300 words, excluding this sentence. Yippi, I’m loving it)
