Tuesday, 24 April 2018


They say preparations can make or break important meetings.

And so, the meeting room had been prepared well for the meeting; however, Steve felt under-prepared. But then again, he was pretty sure no one else would be prepared either.

There were eight chairs neatly arranged around the table at the centre of the room. All eight chairs were taken. Only the chair at the head of the table was empty, not because the boss was late, but because he was standing near the whiteboard and jumping like a mad man.

"You smart-asses know your targets, don't you?", Mr. Josh Briggs asked them in his signature deep baritone. 

All eight reportees hung their heads in shame.

"Answer me!!!" , the baritone made way for a thunderous bark.

Steve looked across the table and saw Cynthia fidgeting with her hair. Everyone knew he found her cute. His eyes began scanning her from her forehead, to her eyes, down to her nose and lips, and then down to her dainty chin, and then further down to her...

"Stephen Mason!!!", the bark was familiar, "Have you been listening to what I've been saying??"


"Margins...what is our gross margin?"



"Oh wow...congratulations sir."

"Fuckin Dimwit!!", the boss was livid, "That's the worst Gross Margin we've had in 14 quarters!"

At this point, Steve began to feel uneasy, "Sorry Mr.Briggs."

"That explains why you dumbfucks can't get our sales running.", he pointed at an image on the whiteboard, "Do you know what this is?"

Steve studied the line and found the trajectory very familiar, "are those our salaries sir?"

Mr. Briggs slapped his forehead. "That's our net profit....", he said in a sullen tone.

"Sir...", Steve continued, "May I...."

"How long have you been in this company you fuckin prick?", the boss shifted gears once again.

"Umm...five years....I would..." Steve was getting increasingly impatient.

"Shut up you moron...listen to me....what on earth have you been doing all these years?"

At this point, Steve couldn't take it anymore. "Sir, I request you to..."

"You sit on your sorry little ass all day, doing abso-bloody-lutely nothing!"

Steve's eyes suddenly went red and he began shaking, "Sir...I don't mind listening to you all day...but please...!!"

"Even my one year old makes more sense than you do, you dimwit!!"

Steve slammed his fist on the table/

His voice pierced through the sudden silence in the room as he said, "That's enough Sir...I need to go now!"

And he stormed out of the room like a man possessed.

Conclusion: When you gotta pee, you gotta pee!


In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

And so everyone on earth wanted to be one with Godliness in Heaven.

And therefore, Ladies set out to find their Men, and Princes went forth to find their Princesses. And when they had satisfied themselves that they had found the right one, they set about building for themselves their Towers to Heaven.

The Prince and Princess of Sandstone had very beautiful rocks, in varying hues of pink and orange, and other colours which they could not name. However, their arrangement of rocks was very clumsy. Neither of them seem focussed on the job at hand, instead carelessly placed their rocks one upon the other, without any alignment. Therefore, after a certain level, the tower toppled on one side, and the rocks crumbled to dust.

The Prince and Princess of Marble also had some very very smooth, lustrous and enchanting rocks at their disposal. They did a great job of neatly placing rocks one above the other, and taking great pains to make sure that every rock had been laid perfectly. However, they were obsessed with perfection. Their obsession with perfection and their intolerance for imperfect work was so dramatic, that any any point in time, each of them would thoughtlessly and unhesitatingly pull out a stone that had been imperfectly laid by the other and hold it in front of the other's face, while sharply criticising the 'shoddy effort'. As a result, after a while, the tower never went beyond a point, and in fact even grew shorter, because both got busy criticising each other.

The Prince and Princess of Granite probably had the most beautiful rocks of all. They patiently spent hours carefully piling stone upon stone to built their tower. But as they neared completion, both of them looked down from the heights and saw that there were other rocks that neither of them had ever seen before. They both forgot about their mission, and about what they had achieved together. To everyone's shock, they abandoned the tower that they had so painstakingly built together. The Princess sought to build a separate tower with the Prince of Onyx, while the Prince of Granite was charmed by the Princess of Quartzite. Alas, although they set out to build new Towers, they soon realised that they neither had enough time nor enough rocks to embark on building new towers. They lived the rest of their lives in regret.

The Prince and Princess of Basalt were the most low-profile couple of all. They both had their own set of flaws and imperfections. They could neither find rocks of great colour or shine, nor could they cut them in perfect shape. However, they both had the rare ability to camouflage each other's flaws. Whenever one would pile a poorly cut larger rock over a smaller one, the other would carve a beautiful motif or image on it and make it look beautiful.

In spite of their imperfections, they both were in perfect harmony.

And in the end, to everyone's surprise, their Tower was the only Tower that ever managed to reach Heaven.

Sunday, 22 April 2018


The laboratory was empty. And it was painfully small. Neither of these attributes surprised Drake though. After all, with Robotic Systems and Artificial Intelligence having come a long way over such a short span of time, who needed human intervention anymore - even when it came to research? They needed only one human in this laboratory now - someone who could program robots to do tasks. That's what Drake was good at; and that's why he was at the Triangulum Research Laboratory.

He donned the customary lab coat and pulled on his super-sanitised nitrile gloves. He put on his safety goggles. And then he picked up his research device, perhaps the most advanced knowledge engine known to mankind thus far - the OmniScience2050.

The OmniScience2050, or Sir Know-A-Lot as he liked to call it, had gained great repute worldwide for helping researchers understand the characteristics and properties of any living organism under the sun. Its developers had come up with a technology that was a step higher than simulation. They had made it possible to stimulate and accelerate seven life signs of living organisms. With the OmniScience2050 it was now possible for researchers to evoke six signs of life - movement, respiration, growth, excretion, reproduction and nutrition - from living organisms, and that too in a matter of minutes. In a nutshell, it had now become possible for researchers to witness and document the entire life cycle of organisms in a short span of time. He often wondered why its makers had chosen to model it like a gun. "To add to the drama, or to create a sense of power perhaps", he imagined.

Drake then calmly walked towards the quarantine room in which he was told he would find the specimen. He looked at the device on the door and rolled his eyes in disappointment. "Stingy Dumbfucks! Are they ever gonna move to voice recognition?" He grudgingly keyed in a series of numbers on the punch card. The door slid open, almost as if halfheartedly. Funnily though, it didn't even wait for him to step inside completely before it began to slide shut.

He turned on the lights and found the specimen exactly where he was told he would find it - on the floor. It was placed in a huge flower pot, in which there was soil, albeit of a strange unworldly lavender-ish colour. The specimen wasn't alike anything that he had ever seen before. He couldn't even make out whether it was a flower, or a fruit, or a plant...or maybe even a creature. It didn't seem to have a trunk, had no stems and branches, and no conventional leaves. All Drake could see were six indigo radially-aligned protrusions that resembled tentacles. At the centre was an ugly looking hollow bulbous mass in the most brilliant shade of crimson that he had ever seen. In his head, Drake had already decided that this was a flower.

He probed the surroundings for a log book or for anything that would give him some information. There was a note on the floor. It was extremely short and therefore not very helpful. All it said was:-

Kingdom      :      Plantae
Name            :     Unknown
Genus           :      Unknown
Origin           :      Planet Sustoth T45

He hoped Sir Know-A-Lot's voice recognition system was working fine. He decided to try it out with the first basic test.

"Movement...Level 5", he whispered, seeking to test the device's prowess.

The specimen's tentacles twisted around menacingly. It would have been a grisly sight for a layman to behold, but for a researcher this was probably a sign from heaven.

"Respiration...Level 6x", he said in his normal tone.

Drake didn't see much movement this time around, but he could have sworn he'd heard some weird noise emanating from the ugly pitcher-like mass in the centre. He decided to check it out again.

"Respiration...Level 10x."

He heard the sound again, this time faster and more audible.

The dramatic speed of discovery that he was experiencing was now beginning to get to him.

"Growth...Level 20x."

The organism grew at least two feet taller and a foot wider. The bulb was now as big as a live-size dog.

Drake decided to skip Excretion and move to something more interesting.

"Reproduction...Level 15x."

A dozen projectiles sprung out from the bulb and fused with some of the tentacles. From these sprung out brand new finger-sized tentacles.

"Nutrition....Level 30x!" he barked, unable to suppress the deadly combination of curiosity and impatience that had now possessed him like a demon.

At once the tentacles sprung forward, grabbed him by the throat and shoved him head first into the bulb.

Moral of the story: Patience is a virtue.


The Moon Is Shining Bright
The Sky Is Full Of Stars
Yet Everything's So Quiet

In Dreams I Hold You Tight
And Melt With You For Hours
But Lonely Is The Night

Another Restless Night...

Thursday, 19 April 2018


The Bellowing of Trees
The Rustling of Leaves
The Bone Chilling Breeze
Infectious Maladies
Inscrutable Decrees
Negotiable Loyalties
Simulated Pleasantries
Unpleasant Memories
Forbidden Fantasies
Yeah, All of These

They Make Me Quiver...

Wednesday, 18 April 2018


Arnold tapped Julian on the shoulder, "They're all the same colour, son."

The five year old's face puckered, and he let his lower lip hang out to express his disappointment.

"Don't you have any other colours?", Arnold asked the kid from whom he was buying the paper.

"No Sir...just white...", the kid replied, in a voice that would convince the biggest sceptic, "...they don't make coloured paper with this thickness."

Arnold studied the sheet, trying to imagine what kind of plane they'd be able to make with it. "You sure this will fly a fair distance? I've never used such thick paper to make planes before?"

"I've been selling paper for more than a year now, Sir", he smiled, "Every day I sell paper to at least a hundred father-son duos like you. No one has ever complained so far."

Arnold looked in the direction of the path leading to the cliff once again, and saw hordes of fathers and their young toddlers doddling ahead at a leisurely pace. "How far is the cliff?"

"About 400 metres. It might take you about five minutes.", the eight year old said, almost as if reading from a script, "You simply stand with your son at the edge of the railing, make a wish in your mind, and throw the plane into the distance."

"Do you come here everyday?"

"Yes Sir. Many Fathers know about the cliff and the story surrounding this place. The Fathers know that if they made a wish for their sons and threw a paper plane down the cliff, their sons would surely make it big in life." 

Arnold smiled, "Thanks Kid...would you want to join us?"

"No Sir, I need to sell paper."

"What about you? Did your father ever throw paper planes for you too?"

"My father's dead Sir...he was dead even before I was born."

Arnold lowered his head in guilt, "I'm sorry kid".

"It's alright Sir. I might not have a Father to make me a plane...but I have my life planned out."

"Do you want me to throw a plane on your behalf?"

"Don't worry Sir", he insisted, "I have a plan."

Arnold smiled. He paid the boy and walked with his son towards the cliff.

Later that evening, when the crowds had dispersed, the paper boy went to the railing overlooking the cliff. He peered down and saw at least a thousand paper planes strewn along the face of the cliff. It was quite a sight to behold. After all, those were more than just paper planes - they were signs of Fathers' love for their sons, Fathers' dreams for their sons.

How ironical then it was, that the boy who had all the paper would never have a plane thrown for himself.

But he was a boy with a plan.

And so the boy with a plan climbed over the railings and went down the face of the cliff, to seek and collect planes that had not gone far enough.


Chinmay sat up in bed, his laptop perched on his lap. It was already well past 11 pm, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. It had been a tiring day at work, what with three back-to-back meetings (with no tangible outcomes, as always) and a less-than-perfect boss who needed more coaching than a trainee employee would. What's more, he had to come home and start writing a story for an online challenge that he was quite passionate about. He was sure this was going to be one of those long nights that he always dreaded.

Anjali turned towards him, lying on her side. "Darling ghost writer..."

Chinmay didn't shift his eyes from the screen, although he hadn't begun typing yet, "You do know that a ghost writer is someone who..."

"No...", she cut him off mid-way, "a ghost writer is actually someone who sits up at unearthly hours to write silly stuff."

"I'm out of ideas babe...I seriously don't know what to write about."

"How about Omni vans?", she teased him, placing a hand in his lap, and playfully letting her fingers run in and around his crotch. His boxer shorts offered very feeble resistance.

But Chinmay firmly held his ground..."Omni vans? Bah!"

"How about Oligopoly? Economics?", she let her hand creep in from under the hem of his shorts. She then cupped his gonads with her soft hand.

He still didn't budge. "Booorrrinnnggg". The verdict was loud and clear.

But Anjali wasn't going to give up without a fight. "How about this word...Omerta?" She then squeezed his nuts without warning.

For the first time, he took his eyes off the screen. "Owww...now you're talking bitch...aargh..." He had least expected her to turn the tide in her favour with one quick move.

"Omen?", she purred like a cat, feeling him grow quickly in her hand.

"Aaah...yessss!", he said, and then simply moaned as she held his shaft firmly in her hand and rubbed it harder than Alladin would rub his magic lamp.

"The Occult", she was now ready to knock him out senseless. The stroking got more intense.

"Aaargh....ohh...aah...I'm gonna cum", he dropped his laptop on the bed and lay down, waiting for the climax to unfold and for an explosion of happiness to happen any moment now.

She stroked his manhood faster and faster, sensing it throb like an animal fighting for dear life. She knew the battle had finally been won when he let out a loud moan and squirmed his body violently, only to settle down motionless after a few seconds. Of course, the biggest giveaway had been the jizz that popped out, some of it into her hands, most of it onto the freshly dry-cleaned bed sheets.

Having decided that it was now her turn to experience the O-Zone, she turned to him once again and said in a seductive tone, "Hey...why don't you write about Orga..."

"zzzzzzz", he snored, as if he had been sleeping for hours on end.

Watch out for the next post...P for Premature Ejaculation!

Hahahaha...just kidding! 😛