Adultery The Old Toothbrush by Trambak

[Ramesh_Rocky]

This darkness is my prized possession; my small little snake, venomous to the core!

A nice fellow called Maverick once identified me by my name. He has a similar one, I presume. He insists that I am good and benign. Let me not disappoint him! What say, you?

Whereas, I sneak in like a stealth bomber and cause havoc and no one's any wiser. I am all too pervasive, omnipresent but I evade radars.

See, life is a big baking kiln. It roasts you like hell and burns holes into your precious skin. The fun is that you think it is all enjoyment and so-called 'good experience'.

Sir! You are actually getting screwed, with royal fervor and damnation.

I am a bit different, not because I don't get my share of the goring but because I compensate by doing the unspeakable to others, in various ways. It is so uplifting! There is nothing more satisfying than actually planning the assault and then meticulously implementing it.

I am like a dark blanket that cuts out all light, all goodness, all hope. But people still think I am benevolent. That is my trump card.

I am occult cancer. I strike the feeble and sick who are unable to resist me.

What's wrong with me? Today, I feel feisty. I feel like an aggressive hound, ready to pounce on some unsuspecting fellow who thinks that I can do no wrong. Whoa! That's my ammo!

I never do anything openly.

I am the destroyer of untapped contentment. Beware.

Knock, knock, knock!!

The train of thoughts that was igniting all my faculties were rudely tethered by the entry of the lady, the light of my life. LED lamp of high intensity but low on wattage; expensive but comes with a long warranty.

"Darling, are you writing something?" She coos into my ears.

I look blankly.

"The same pathetic rubbish I guess?" She reinforces the idea, with finesse.

"I am just writing letters of nomination to the insurance company." I reiterate forcefully.

"Atta boy! Hope they settle the claim quickly. Do I have to go personally?" She rubs it in.

"If you talk to me like that, I will do something awful. And that day, you...you...." I leave the sentence unfinished, for effects.

She nods her head sagely, like Shakuntala for her Dushyant, "I am living this terrible life only on that hope, howsoever slim."

She faces me and pouts her lips. I move forward in anticipation. She too comes forward. Nice.

I am back in my chair. Her push could be rather forceful.

"You dirty mind" She cries, how's my new lipstick? How do I look?

"Countess Dracula. Wretched colour choice." I reply morosely.

In retaliation, she picks up the bowl of 'prawn masala' meant for me and occupies her appointed place in the hammock tied between the two trees.

In vengeance, I order a double bowl, of crabs.

Musings could wait.

To the uninitiated, hammocks could be a frightening experience. Climbing in, settling down and then de-hammocking, all have their uncharitable moments. But once you get used to, it's unadulterated bliss.

I settled down in the one adjacent to the Countess and looked up to find nice juicy coconuts menacingly hanging bang over my cranium.

Life was uncertain; I had the choice of injury from the top as well as the left.

Looking at the blue sky through the coconuts, I ventured into a benevolent dialogue, "Where the f...k is Probal"?