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| This bugger's story is the best, right at the end. Yes, there's violence. |
Two men—let’s call
them Jim and John—were travelling together, walking through a forest despite
the fact that taking a bus would be cheaper and safer. By the way, their real
names are Reginald and Thanggaswamy, but it saves me time if I call them Jim
and John. Shit, now I wasted time typing all that. Damn
Upon reaching the
thickest part of the forest, suddenly a bear appeared in front of them.
"Boo,” said the
bear.
Terrified, Jim quickly
climbed the tree, while John remembered that bears do not attack or eat dead
creatures. Quickly, he fell flat on the ground and held his breath. He tried to
recall the faces he saw in the coffin and put up the appearance of a serene
corpse. He did keep his mouth gaping open so that he could breathe through
that. Clever feller, right?
The bear came to him
and started sniffing him. God knows what Jim ate, but the moment the bear smelt
the mouth area, it gagged and vomited heavily.
“Deyy, what did you
eatlah, lah? That’s some stinky piece of shit breath you got there,”
cried the bear.
“Oh,” said
Thanggaswamy, his voice emerging from the leafy branches, “he had nasi campur
with tempoyak, sambal belacan, ikan masin, and durian for dessert.”
Hearing that, the bear
rushed to the tree, actually climbed it (it did a quick Tree Climbing 101
course during the summer break), and ate Thanggaswamy.
Moral: You
know…there’s a racial stereotype right there if you noticed.
-----
The Milkmaid and
Her Pail
Patty the Milkmaid was
going to market carrying her milk in a pail on her head. In Tamil, Patty is
Granny. But still, in English, patty is that meaty thingy between buns. But did
that bother Patty the Milkmaid? Nope.
Despite the fact that
she has yet to get royalty from the condensed milk company, Patty had dreams.
While carrying the pail, she started calculating as to what she would do with
the money from selling the milk.
“I'll buy some fowl
from Farmer Brown," said she. Actually, Farmer Brown offered to give the
fowls for free, for which he said, “I can show you something even more brown;
you get it, huh? Huh?”. The horny bastard.
Nah, Patty ain’t
falling for it; besides, she already made deals with Farmer Abrahamovic, who
sells geese. A geese in exchange for pus... Anyway, let's get on with the
story.
And so she continued
with her fantasy. The chickens, she imagines, "will lay eggs. each
morning, which I will sell to the parson's wife.” Wait. Who?
“Parson,” she told me.
You mean, person?
“Parson. A priest,
dum-dum. What kinda narrator are you?”
Well, that’s
embarrassing. Anyway, she continued, “With the money that I get from the sale
of these eggs, I'll buy myself a new dimity frock and a chip hat." Yes,
dear readers, I too have no idea what the hell they are.
She went on, “And when
I go to market, won't all the young men come up and speak to me! Polly Shaw
will be that jealous, but I don't care.“
Wait, Patty. Who is
Polly Shaw, a character? Out of nowhere. Patty ignored me and continued, That
arrogant wench:
“I shall just look at
her and toss my head like this.”
And as she spoke, she
tossed her head back, the pail fell off it, and all the milk was spilt. So she
had to go home and tell her mother what had occurred.
"Ah, my
child," said the mother, "do not count your chickens before they are
hatched."
Moral: Wait, the
mother explained already; why do you want it from me? Though I don’t know about
chicken thingy, Patty deserves it for calling me dum-dum.
-----
The Wolf in Sheep's
Clothing
Once upon a time,
blah, blah, blah… the usual opening, there was a wolf that was hungry like an
err. Wolf (Yes, I stole that from Duran Duran). As it trudged along by the side
of a field, it spotted a fleck of shops.
Oh wait. Hang on.
I meant a flock of
sheep. It licked its lips, teeth, roof of the mouth, and that little droplet
thingy at the back of it.
“This will be what
they say, sap-sap-suey...easy peasy.”.
But the wolf was
wrong, because taking care of the flick of shape...err...the flock of sheep was
a shepherd and a couple of dogs. The dogs look like they had eaten the entire
buffalo for breakfast and are still hungry.
“That would be a bad
move,” thought Wolf, who does his thinking in English though its mother tongue
is Romanian.
As it wandered around
hungrily, later, it encountered the skin of a sheep that had been flayed and
thrown aside. I know this sudden twist in the story is so convenient, like in
old Tamil films, but bear with me.
So, it put the sheep
skin on and strolled down back to the fluke of shape—aww, come on—I meant,
flock of sheep. But guess what... remember the skin was flayed... yeah, the
owner lamb was there and identified.
“Motherf_ is wearing
my goddamned fur, the cheek,” it thought in one of the Slavic languages that I
hadda google translate.
The lamb then began to
follow the Wolf in the sheep's clothing, but dammit, the wolf caught her and
made a meal of her. Soon, the wolf was serially killing the others. Reports
appeared in the New Sheeps Times with headlines like:
Lamb Killing Own:
Police Baffled, Surprised, Shaken But Not Stirred.
Actually, the story
ends here. With the message being about not getting deceived. But I did see
another version that has apa nama tu, an alternate ending.
That version had the
shepherd thinking about having lamb varuval or something for dinner and
decided to slaughter one of them in the flex, I mean, flock.
He picked up the
knife, and so happened he got hold of the wolf in the sheep’s clothing and
killed the goddamned wolf. The rest of the sheep were shocked and ashamed.
Shocked because of the killing and ashamed because, well, they have been taken
for a ride by the wolf, haven’t they? And so they all fled and lived on their
own, the fur growing so thick and round that they no longer walked but rolled
and rolled and rolled...
Moral of the story. I
don’t know. Go to the barber regularly, I suppose.
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