Short
and not sweet at all; oh no, my loves!
Arguments were rife at the table of this family of 6 – grandpa, ma, pa, two elder sisters and himself. Nothing violent, just normal differences of opinion that are likely when a group this size gets together. He was the only one who kept his counsel. As the youngest, his pronouncements were likely to be dismissed anyway. He turned his attention to the newspaper. What is this!?! “1 in 5 people likely to be mentally ill”.
“2 of a family of 6 murdered in cold blood” screamed the headlines two days later.
He had reduced the odds, hadn’t he?
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A few minutes after reaching home – 4162, Laburnum Lane – she cranked up her laptop to post about the MAN who stalked her on the quiet stretch of road from office to home that evening. “Creep”. She tapped out her righteous anger to her six hundred and seventy-two followers. She had met only thirty-seven of them ever.
The MAN walked on and turned into his home at 4159, Laburnum Lane.
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And it hit him then.
HE had the answer to Life, the Universe, EVERYthing. And it wasn’t a number. Thrilled and in the spirit of sharing and caring, he started expounding .
He couldn’t hear himself.
The duty doctor on his rounds in the Neurology department raised a quizzical eyebrow at the nurse. She shook her head. “Still the same, doctor, just as in the last 15 months. Other than his left eyelid fluttering for a few seconds two hours back, there’s no response.”
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She settled down at the table of that familiar dim-lit bar. And they came and sat with her, her girls. All make-up and cleavage. Her eyes started scouting customers.
Loner. No one to talk to. No friends, no family. It had not entirely deadened this orphan but it was killing him. He silently and fiercely envied those with families, even the ones that didn’t look too happy about it.
“F mily B r & Rest ur nt”.
The lurid red broken signage drew the orphan in. The pimp smiled. A likely one, this. He’d do just fine.
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The man was the very picture of politeness. He smiled and wished most people good whatever phase of the day it was. He was warm to the staff and guests alike at the 5-star hotel he was staying.
Nice man.
He checked out after a few days and went back home. Two days later he was arrested for picking up a stray street pup, smashing it against a wall, and stomping on it till it died.
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She worked on the “Science” beat. She had found one of those random studies (who does these and why?) – you know the ones that tell you that a mole on your right elbow significantly increases your likelihood of suffering a paralytic stroke before the age of 80 – that predicted probability of insanity in any given population. The editor had okayed it for publishing the next day. Her day was done.
“1 in 5 people likely to be mentally ill”.
The planet moves and life goes on. In circles.
P.s.: I had given life (such as it is) to some of these a few years back. I’ve given them a home here now.



Heavy a bit, Ram, swinging around
The smashing puppy story is reality now. It made the headlines today. Did you predict it?!