Surreal

Magnificent are the thundering antlers of the mysterious stag
Oats and barley, golden fields, invigorating too
Rare be such beauty, admire, that man dares to
Ere you speak, take time to read every letter, every word
Lest jest sometimes makes peacocks of a macaw
Even maelstrom or tempest occasionally looks lo
Fruits no longer edible directly; what are they best for
To eat or excite, to feel or delight?! ok

“Leave! Now! “, I bellowed at the gorgeous blonde in front of me, as I forced her into a taxi. She looked at me with large innocent brown eyes, searching for some semblance of pardon, love or even hope. She had been forgiven. I think. But I had never loved her. I think. And there was no hope for her. I think.

“Your mouth speaks a language unintelligible to your heart. You don’t actually want me to leave, do you?” she questioned, raising her eyebrows and smirking simultaneously. I sneered. “I don’t care for you; I never did. I just used you. Like everyone else”, I lied. She could see it too. But she knew I didn’t want her around. Not now.

She fished out a cigarette and a solitary match from her overburdened purse and handed them to me. I didn’t ask her any questions but hastily smuggled them into my coat to avoid contact with the rain, which was coming down fast. Just as I was doing so, she took her time to slap me hard on my face and in the mean time, also commented on the good shoes I was wearing. I blinked. The rain drops were falling hard but they paled in comparison to her mighty strike. I just blinked.

The taxi left. And she too. I went in.

The ambience was soothing. The place was crowded as usual, but there were still some empty spots near the bar. I walked up to one, all drenched and wet. A young smiling girl greeted me from the other side. I asked for a vodka, double, on the rocks. Quizzically she asked me what the matter was, troubling her brilliant green eyes. I forced a contrived grin and remained silent. She repeated her query hoping I hadn’t heard it the first time. This time I replied, “Honey, maybe some other time.” Unperturbed she handed me my drink, with a napkin on which she had scribbled with her pink lipstick what I assumed was her number. I looked up but she was gone. Clichéd as what she did was, I promised myself I would call her later. There was something about her black dress.

I downed the drink in a single flowing motion. As the heat traveled through my parched throat, I stood up to do what I had come to do. The music was slow and quiet. With the worst face I had, I looked onto the unsuspecting audience and yelled at the top of my voice, “Now, I need an answer to a question.” I gave almost no time for anyone to so much as even come up with an opinion as I persisted in full earnest, rather raucously. “We can do this my way…” I purposely paused. Dramatically. Waiting for some dolt to stand up. To threaten me. I got what I was looking for.

“Your way? Or else what?”, bawled a scruffy looking thug. He had a conceited leer on his face. I was excited, as I took out my semi-automatic, flaunting it around, as I tilted my head and said, “My way. Period.” The thug fell flat onto his plate, as a bullet pierced right through the centre of his temple. His companion, a zaftig, heavily-plasticized, hideously over-powdered woman shrieked and almost fainted. I continued with a somber resolute countenance, “Where is the door? The door out of Egypt?” A tall, scrawny, middle-aged fellow got up quickly and pointed towards what looked like an inconspicuous elevator. Soon, his body was to be found sprawled on the floor. I hated cowards.

By the time I reached the elevator, almost everyone had emptied the place with an Olympic enthusiasm. The door seemed to be locked and on top of that, a huge sinewy Hercules of a man wedged himself between me and the door. He was wearing a black suit, with a purple tie, and shades to match his ensemble. He clenched his teeth together and grunted. He caught my hand and rubbished away my weapon. I sighed and kicked his stomach.

He didn’t like it. Clearly. He retaliated with an array of wallops, whacks and boots. I was in pain. But I couldn’t have made it so far just to fail. I couldn’t have done all that I have done just to get beat up by this monster. I couldn’t and wouldn’t. So, in that adrenaline-filled moment, I caught his oversized head and brought it down hard, face first, onto my knee. And again. And again. His blood trickled onto the floor. He passed out.

I rummaged his body for the keys. I found them along with a button and a stick of gum. I reclaimed my gun, and opened the door. The door out of Egypt. Just as I stepped through the door, I remembered the cigarette. I took it out and placed it cozily between my lips. The lone match I had was struck against the sole of my now dried up shoes. I had remembered her words. I lit the cigarette and left the place. For good.

Comments

hmm... interesting... go ahead :)
amrit said…
yeah yeah.. go ahead.. me waiting..
Vindy said…
Ich warte auch... :D
R said…
sood....go on
San said…
Ah so many anxiously waiting, sorry for the disappointment... all I could come up with, I added to the first part of the post. Hope you enjoy that :).
- Ubiquitous - said…
Very descriptive, very engaging, very interesting, very good!!!

:)
EP/ UK said…
I thought it was pretty ob it was going to stop...and add me in your friends bloglist da helmet dog! I've been blogging decently regularly...
pisku said…
fiction or based on some half reality?
EP/ UK said…
thank u...thank u...
Anonymous said…
total cup actually!
Anonymous said…
craaaaaaaap
Blunt said…
Hi!
I am waiting too
Interesting
*blink*
SeePearrl said…
nice one!
skar said…
nice! But wake up and finish it!
satya said…
===)))
max payne inspiration sure...
Vindy said…
cupper... blog something...
Anonymous said…
Gripping!!
sriganesh said…
i'm reading your blog after a long time, but things never change eh? The same arbit female character, the same shadiness in the story, but full marks for creativity.. :) The reader would appreciate if the creativity would be directed on another subject......
Anonymous said…
Cool blog, interesting information... Keep it UP mp3 player 1969 porsche 912 for sale
Anonymous said…
Not bad.. though I shudder at the use of 'Ere'. It seems like a pretentious word, used too often to make a peom seem more 'poetic'. I've used it myself, before I knew better.

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