the strange encounter with the fourth kind...

at the rate of seventeen feet per second, my professor was digging a grave for me to be buried in. i had forgotten my report. worse, my professor was in a very foul mood. this is probably the worst combination ever, right after ramarajan's pink and green. i could see his contorted face, it was like seeing the blob, or the thing, or a combination of all the alien creatures ever conceived in those scary movies. the conversation:

blob: rip, tear, kill...

sub text: where is the report?

me: oops. i mean, sir?

explanation: never say oops. never ever use that word, even though its not a word. it cannot be accepted by professors/bosses/anything that barks. the word oops can as well be substituted with "please kill me and feed my arms and limbs to stray dogs".

blob: rip, flesh, blood, tasty.

sub text: what do you mean, sir? what the hell happened to the report, isnt it due today?

me: i know, i mean, i didnt. i mean, i wasnt sure. i actually thought it was.

explanation: that is probably the most stupid explanation a human being with even negligible quantity of white and gray matter can come up with. its hard to think on the feet, it is best to think of a valid lie, that can be validated by all possible means. i repeat, all possible means.(forget that, and you will pay for it dearly.)

blob:grrrrrrr.growl...thunderous sounds.

sub text: you had no idea, what kind of an answer is that? arent you old enough or should we talk about this when you start nursery classes again?

me: hushed silence. head bowed down, staring at the virus-parasite battle on the floor. virus-1, parasite-0 after round 1.

explanation: retribution in life comes at the later stage. you would want to maim him right now, or do something really bad to him like make him eat your dal, but have patience. there is always time to plot and scheme. conspiracies are not successful all the time.

blob: licks tongue on the chin. rolls its eyes.

sub text: now you forgot to talk? or you cannot talk anymore?

me: i am sorry.

explanation: dig your nails into the flesh, bury your face in the imaginary sand, muffle your voice in the imaginary handkerchief, ball your fist and slam it into an imaginary wall, blow out the imaginary steam out of your ears, and apologize. he pays, you live. he doesnt, you sit by the dumpsters, asking for quarters.

blob: subdued. turns around.

subtext: i am very disappointed, gautham.

me: *phew* i will finish it and turn it in today sir.

explanation: time for some tequila shots and jagermeister. whistling *always look on the bright side of life*...

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