11.
The temperature was blood-boiling. My heartbeat went in unison with the songs and prayers uttered silently within. The devil himself looked up, at my face. His silence was unbearable. I stood before him, trembling, broken, pierced, and most of all, weak.
"Just come for your clearance tomorrow, we'll talk then", the devil finally blabbed. I heaved a sigh of relief and turned around without a word. The Bull seemed to understand my situation, as it seemed to move slowly in cooperation with my weak trembling feet that could barely press the acceleration pedal.
I arrived my Place of Primary Assignment, the Local Govt. Secretariat, and lodged my Bull under an angry tree...it threw a dozen leaves on my bonnet, in disapproval to my packing. "Your leaves don finish?", I queried in annoyance too, and strolled to the area that seemed occupied.
A little cow-shed lay to my left, made completely of logs. A signpost revealed it was a department. Chairs and tables lay in a haggard format under every shed. In fact, every place was an office! A man sat by a hall, tagged "Legislature", and smoked two sticks of cigarette at once. His face brightened each time he took the sip. Obviously, he was mentally unbalanced.
"Corper, good afternoon and welcome to our land of peace", the figure whispered amidst puffs of smoke. I was taken aback. This was the only human, apart from the devil himself, who conveyed his thoughts in purified English. My smile widened, but my heart raced...soon, my feet joined!
A woman sat under a tree just after where my mad friend had his home. I sincerely hoped they weren't colleagues-in-insanity. So, I walked up to her, boldly adjusting my cap. Before I could get close enough to her, she quickly pointed at a door ahead of me. I felt terrible though, but obeyed.
The Inscription "HOLGA" hung nicely at the door. I knocked, and crawled in. A huge fair woman sat on a rocking chair and stared at me above a tilted pair of glasses which now rested on her pointed nose. The memories of childhood rushed back as she looked more like cartoons we drew as children. Funny enough, we used this image to represent the wicked step mother.
"Good afternoon Madam", I said with a smile that mutual have tickled her fancy. A semi-masculine voice emerged from between the lipstick-smeared pair of lips. Wait o...did she apply this lipstick, or did someone simply fling a bucket of red paint at her?
"Corper, sit down", she responded, leaning back on her rocking posture yet still staring at me. I became too uncomfortable as she kept staring without a word for about thirty whole minutes. My face kept flickering here and there to avert the look in her eyes. In my confusion, I stood up and tried to say something, expecting her to revolt. Actually, she didn't! She just kept staring at my empty seat. Something was not right.
As I moved closer to her table, I noticed a little smear of her red lipstick on her white blouse. Spittle travelled from her open mouth downward, getting an accompaniment from the red neighbors downstairs. Her upper jaw was linked to the lower by strings of foam. Her snores kept the rocking chair on motion. Behold, my host was deeply asleep, though her eyes stayed wide open!
No comments:
Post a Comment