Monthly Archives: June 2011

Some More One Liners

Did you hear about the pencil that played in a Band?
It was the LEAD Guitarist.

What games do Chinese people play in Libraries?
Follow the Reader.

How were Hitler’s shoes always Black?
He loved the POLISH.

If someone dances on peoples opinions is he considered as a POLL Dancer?

I want to name my daughter Emergency. So that when I run out of signal on my phone, she can call only.

What sort of a bird sells pirated cd’s on the road?

A Hawk-er.




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Lyrical Tastes

They say poetry is one of the most ancient and truest forms of art.

Yet nobody dares to talk about its origins.

I know the story, and I shall speak for nobody can chain this mouth and prevent the story from being leaked out.


A very very long time ago, a famous horror author who went by the name Edgar Allen Poe visited the ancient Yakuhsi tribe deep in the jungles of Africa.

He thought they appreciated his tall tales, but they desired him for another reason. He looked tasty and completely scrumptious.

One day while he was explaining why nostradamus predicted things, he was drugged and taken away by the tribes leader.

When he awoke he found out that he was in a giant cauldron on a giant fire.

A villager was putting some vegetables in the Edgar Allen Poe stew.


As the fire burnt and the water boiled, he breathed his last few breaths.


Thie entire tale was taken down by the local blogger, yet he had no words to describe this lyrical enterprise he had set upon.

As soon as he tasted the stew he got the perfect name for his creation.

As soon as he tasted it he decided to call it…


“Poe Yum”


I do not know what is worse. This story or this ridiculous costume. Oh look a crow. I shall write something about him and be famous someday. Now where did I keep my cyanide pills?



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A Brilliant Hand Job

I grew up watching a lot of cartoons on Cartoon Network. Gone are the days where intelligent cartoons reigned supreme. Now only weird Japanese creatures that exist in a parallel world waiting to be nuked exist.

My friend was a great fan of Dexter’s Lab. He would often draw the characters out. He drew on papers, walls, bread slices, pigeons and anything else that he could lay his hands on. Although his drawings were as good as the original cartoon he wanted to challenge himself. He took on the inane challenge of attempting to draw Dexter with both of his hands.

After 3 years of practice he got the hang of it. He could finally draw Dexter with his left hand or his right hand. Sometimes he would use both hands. Sometimes he would use no hands, but that would only leave us with blank paper.

Nobody knew what to call him. Genius? Moron? A waste of skin?


Yet I knew what his talent was. I knew what my friend truly was.

My friend was clearly




That was by far the shittiest story I have ever read in my life. I will now build a nuclear bomb just to prevent you from writing one more.

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Mobile Apocalypse

Ting Ting Ting Ting

The tune starting off slowly but getting louder by the moment, wafts through the open window. I open my eyes and look around, my room lies dirty in front of me. Muffled mumblings and short beeps are heard from outside. I quickly wipe the sleep away from my eyes. It has been 3 years since the incident took place.

I walk towards the windows, open the curtains and look out. The world looks dark and grim as usual. Looking down I glance at hoards of mindless people clustering, constantly banging into each other. Nobody looks up, nobody talks, fingers constantly moving about the keypad messaging away, all their hands perpetually attached to the demonic device.

I look back on the days of normal conversations where people would actually speak to each other in person. Communication had slowly changed after that. It was introduced to the world as a boon, something known as a Blackberry. This bold move had changed the communication curve and taken the world by storm. It was literally like a torch in dark times. But all torches eventually run out of batteries, and the darkness slowly comes back to take its place. People started forgetting how to talk, they would refuse to even react to normal conversation. Everyone was attacked by this ruthless virus called the Blackberry Messenger or BBM. Governments had failed attempts to ban it, to stop it from spreading, but it did. Everyone had become mindless BBZombies.

My eyes slowly landed on one lonely man slowly walking at a distance from the crowd. He seemed to be enjoying the distant pleasures of messaging someone and actually paying for it. Yet he did not see the rock in his way and brutally tripped. I watched as his Samsung phone flew out of his hand and broke into a hundred newly extinct pieces. The crowd turned and their eyes feasted on him. A man without a means of communication the perfect fodder for themselves. They ran towards him. He had nowhere to run and just stood there scared and awaited his fate. The first of the BBZombies approached him and after scanning him from top to bottom asked him the only few words that it ever learnt to say “What is your BBM pin?” and upon realizing the poor man possessed nothing the crowd jumped on him, his screams muffled as their bodies piled up on top of him.

Fear enveloped me as I awaited the painful effects of this attack. The crowd slowly started dissipating and he stood there. Alone. Confused. Terrified.

Slowly he pulled out a Blackberry and said “22101AFC”. He too had succumbed to the curse.

I turned my back on this gruesome sight and went to my drawers. Today too would be another day of survival. Another day of fighting to prove my worth. Fighting against this curse that had captured everyone but me.

I opened the drawers and stared at the varied telephonic instruments at my arsenal. 4 Nokia 6600’s, 20 Siemens mobiles, Motorolas as well as the Samsungs. I reserved the touch screen ones like the HTC’s for the worst of the zombies, the ones who infected all. My modus operandi – Throw the phones filled with working Sim Cards and pray that people slowly change and realize that they should pay for their messages and calls. It had not been a successful journey uptil now, the entire Blackberry culture had made living difficult. I strap on two belts of prepaid as well as postpaid Sim Cards and walk towards the door, my bag filled with assorted telephones ready to do their damage.

I had forgotten something. I turned back and made my way to the bottom of my bed and pulled out a large metal chest. Concealed in it was one of the most deadliest phones ever created. I open the top and my eyebrows raise, my eyes sparkle as I stare at the beauty known to the common world as the IPhone 4. Jailbroken. Waiting to distract and convert a giant lot of these zombies.

Phones – Check. Sim Cards loaded – Check. 3g activated just for the heck of it – Check. Moving my Sony Slider up and down while making shotgun sounds – Check. Phone getting locked and unlocked – Check.

I stare at the photo of my family and wipe a tear. All of them had been consumed, not even one acknowledged my pleas for their safety. Now they wandered around mindlessly, refusing to talk, refusing to listen until I myself had got a Blackberry. Yuck.  I spat at the thought of getting one and I still spit thinking about it. It is time to roll.

I step out of my buildings and 20 BBZombies run towards me. I take out a handful of Samsungs and throw them, that should temporarily distract them. Messages that can be sent without having to wonder whether the other person has got them or read them. Anxiety at waiting for their reply will easily occupy them as I made my way towards the city, trying to find any survivors. I run around throwing phones at everyone. I got all my ammo from the scrapyard.

That is when I first heard “Help”. Her voice ever so sweet rose over the tapping sounds of the phones. I looked towards her. She was extremely pretty and around 20 years old. She was wearing a white t shirt and blue jeans. Her hair was let loose, and my eyes crossed to her pretty black eyes. We mentally BBM’ed each other. I read her message loud and clear and she smiled as she knew it was delivered, ” Help me please” she yelled again.

All the bravado piled up in me and with a sudden adrenaline rushed I screamed as I ran towards her, throwing phones at every person I could see. A punch came out of nowhere and knocked me right to the ground, my bag was flung a few feet away. The BBZombies started tugging at my clothes and hair. “Play Brickbreaker, Brickbreaker” they mumbled as they tugged at me. As they surrounded me and threw themselves on me, I saw all the hope escape her face. I saw her reaching towards a Blackberry, accepting the curse. I could not let that happen. Not once again. My hands barely reached my bag, but I pulled out the Apple Iphone which I had reserved for a great occasion and I though there could be no greater occasion than now. I slid to unlock and threw the phone away, the BBZombies ran towards the phone fascinated by its technology. They fought with each other and constantly messaged each other while they were fighing that they were fighting. I ran towards the girl and we both held hands and fled from that place. We ran towards an isolated location and took refuge there. She smiled. Her smile ever so perfect on that beautiful sculpted face of hers. Sonica, she said her name was. She said she did not know how to thank me. She was about to succumb to the curse but I had saved her just in time. I smiled as I realized I had finally found someone like me. All the days of fighting a lone battle were now over.

She came close to me. Our eyes interlocked as she slowly hugged me. I felt her warmth flow towards me and closed my eyes. Nothing could have ruined that moment.

Slowly she raised her mouth to my ears and ever so gently whispered…


– The End

"Hey Honey, I won't be home today. Staying out a little late to do some Zombie stuff. Ok Bye"

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This is the last straw

In a world populated by plastic tubes, the employment rate never rises.

For plastic tubes can do a variety of functions, yet the pay can never satisfy all of them. One of the major trades is export of labour. The tubes illegally travel all the way to planet Earth and assisted by the natural force of gravity find jobs as straws.

There are a variety of straws available. There are the once that practice yoga, or in other words the Bendy straws. There are the colorful ones, and the ones with designs, yet the majority of them are white. It is indeed a depressing job, but straws get satisfaction having cold fluids traverse their innards ever day. They love to be sucked. (Naughty isn’t it!)

Straws repopulate with the help of human children. Human children join two straws at the ends and that facilitates for a little air transfer which enables the other straw to get pregnant. Next time you join two straws, listen carefully as you will hear some gentle moaning.

Straws have now started venturing and trying out other jobs. They have found their way into movies also. Yet in the movies they always appear with a drink. Straws have not yet become full fledged celebrities, and they share the similar status of a human who appears in movies yet remains as an ignored element just filling the frame in the background.

Basically, they are considered as Ex-Straws.

Halle was once a straw before she underwent plastic surgery. Her actual name is Straw Berry. You can now proceed to slap me.


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One Flu in the Cuckoo’s Nest

Mumbai is the city of dreams and the city of birds. A city filled with birds who dream of other birds. A city where birds do not happily hop onto slingshots to wreak havoc upon innocent yet grossly green colored pigs. The city that never sleeps, but when it does leaves the lights on and sleeps.

It is in this city that my childhood friend, a young crow decided to earn his living. Flying about doing his daily business he realized that he was different. He had potential. He had writing skills. Although it took him 20 minutes to drink water from a jug as he would go through some stupid process of putting stones to raise the level.

Despite all these hardships, our crow found out a way to release his outbursts. He approached his glamorous cousin the Bluebird with an unique proposition.

Rather than Caw Cawing once every day, he would Caw Caw every 5 minutes, and Caw Caw in 140 characters or less.He would also Caw Caw to random people, and nobody would care as to what he Cawed about. Together they released this activity and called it Twitter.

The activity instantly became famous and launched the crow to stardom.Over enthusiastic humans too hopped onto the bandwagon. Yet we will never forget what Twitter originally was,is and will be.


Twitter is My-Crow-Blogging.

He met her at a Crow Bar. She slept with him as he was black. He later then murdered her with a Crowbar.


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