BITCHES ARE EVERYWHERE, BUT DO YOU BELIEVE IN WITCHES?
A frustrated dog was smoking somewhere around the park. Just then a haggard old bitch came near him and asked, ‘Doggie, I am a witch. I will grant you all your wishes if you sleep with me.’ The dog got excited, ‘Wow, sure I’ll.’ They engaged in clumsy sex. Next morning, the dog jumped on the bed and woke the old bitch, ‘Wake up, this is the list of my wishes.’ The old bitch lighted a cigarette and said, ‘Come on, don’t be a retard. It is the 21st century and you still believe in witches. We are so gullible, that’s exactly why our masters are busy training us. Uff!’
THE PATHETIC CRY OF THE JACKASS
Towering on the emotions one feel when he sees a train on the track where he is tied to be run down by the vehicle, which had often been the topic of debate since its introduction. When one feels the need of help, when one knows he is to be sucked by death and no one will give a shit to the cries he will make then he realises that he indeed is in big trouble. There is no saviour for him, as all the superheroes are busy saving people from villains and your story does not have a villain, it is you who have brought yourself the misery and the bondage. To escape from the situation is to face death without reservations, you want to make yourself believe that you are just dreaming, but it is damn real and the thread from your sock says it all. It is really bizarre, but what will he do in such situation, he could ejaculate, and do not have dirty thoughts on this, the ejaculation will give no cum but of a word that could make him believe that there are reasons to hold on to the belief that he will survive, not matter what he sees himself through. Immortal being having an immortal live pissed and shook to the core; having an absolute no control over the lives of other individuals they f*** the hell out of you. Bloody screamers! When the moon shines, but the land is dark, when the sun shines, but there is no ray then there comes the rising troop of love and the enigma of the soul and the swallowing of the tube and the turmoil of the half faded jeans and discounted bra. His lover’s lipstick which was his favourite smell will bring nothing but pissing on the day when the cries of the revolution will be heard. The necks and the fundamentalism of the cow herd dictionary and long driving leg and the thundering thighs and the extravagant tits all dissolved to form the bloody constitution, the constitution had, therefore, milk and water and blood and gravity and soul and vulgarity of the people for the people and by the people.
SENSELESS MARIJUANA TRACKS THE SENSE
Once there was a gathering, ladies gathering to be precise. An elderly woman posed this question, ‘Ladies, whom would you like to marry, a sportsman, a soldier, a business tycoon?’ Modest and honest <could be pretentious too>answers came floating, someone replied, ‘Sportsman, I will be the happiest when he brings laurel for the country.’ Someone said, ‘Solider who dies for his Motherland. Such an honour it would be to be his wife.’ In the process, they all have forgotten that there were three options; the business tycoon option was singled out. Senseless Marijuana replied, ‘I could like to marry the business tycoon.’ Every head was turned towards her, she continued, ‘Well, I just want to know where he is going to invest his money, meaning, whether in match fixing or in buying weapons for war.’
THE PRINCE AND THE BEAR
There was a prince who was handsome, dashing, intelligent, talented, stylish, and the entire adjective to adorn him. But, 24 x7 he was being guarded by a sticky, fat, ugly, bear and that bear was so annoying that throughout his life he never got any hugs, he could have made an excellent football but the factory owner had something in mind. There was a beautiful, charming and witty woman who with her literary achievements could have made a fine ruler, anyway, that lady was highly infatuated with him. She wanted to take him somewhere, or wanted him to take her somewhere, she wanted some time alone with him, possibly to hold his hand and share some light kisses and hugs. However, that farty bear always came in between; he never once left the prince alone. The woman started to wonder whether or not there were gays, so much in longing and wanting with each other. What bothered the woman was not how good looking the prince was or how strong their bonding was, what really bothered her was why the bear always stuck on the prince liked a clue from a cobbler’s shop. It was torturing not to see him alone, not to spend time with him and to say what she wanted to say. Seeing him everyday walking and talking and spending his time with the bear was taking a toll on her. Anyway, the thunder god took pity on her, so a jolt of thunder stroked her. She died. Thus, she was relieved from the pain of seeing the bear and her prince together forever.
THE PROLOGUE IS MISSING
Mr. Mouse achieved the title of ‘International Playboy’. He was happy. But, he was not a playboy some years ago. Mr. Mouse was a car driver; he had no girlfriend of his own. One day, a pretty waitress asked him out and the very next day, she dumped him. He was so hurt, so hurt, he promised to shoot down all the pretty women, but guns were expensive and license was tough to get as he was a migrant. He did nothing but on the seventh month after the heartbreak he went to a man’s parlour and transformed himself just like SRK did in Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi. Suddenly, all the women in the street started singing, ‘Hi handsome, hi handsome.’ He slept with 11000000000000000000000 women but did not commit to any of them. He was a heartbreaker, player, flirt, call him all the names in the dictionary but deep down inside the magma, he knew he was hurt and lonely. Does anyone care to trace the prologue of his story?
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