Waves by Osman Naeem

Here I was, at the barstool, I mean, what better way to kick start the weekend than by spending your pay on cheap vodka shots and deep philosophical thoughts with your cubicle friends, who are all alpha males with beta reasoning skills and gamma temperaments.
Ten minutes past midnight and we were already spewing wisdom like snake monks, unfortunately, thanks to Basheer, and his amazing tendency to stir random substances that altered brain waves into our drinks. These substances were either made in secret laboratories or secreted by various life forms, our dear friend Ranjish Patel Kumar Turbanfulk jr was now Scottish and took his pants off because he wanted to feel the air flow through his legs and feel the comfort of a kilt.  It doesn’t end there, he proposed a toast to God and said “My friends, hunks, hunkarettes, the lady with the armpit stains, we are all vagabonds roaming through nothingness in a search for bliss, and along that path, we have our own bandwagon that we think belong to. What we do defines us, what we define does us, like that lady I’m taking home tonight, and the closer we get to bliss, the further it seems to be. Now that is very funny, because bliss is within, trapped, in your minds, hearts and scrotums. Hey let go of me I am a citizen of this country what are you doing yaar…..” swear words and curses echoed through the back room as the bouncers carried his voice away.

While that happened, I had somehow teleported to this couch at least two dance floors away from the barstool that I warmed. I was beside the cornerstone of sexy and the centerpiece of “so damn fine”, my heartbeat was cosmic waves on a Richter scale, which is probably why I was talking gibberish, we were as close as distant relatives after exchanging private information because it is totally safe to share the dimensions of your birthmarks and your secret teddy bear with a person you met exactly twelve minutes ago, and you don’t even know their name. But I didn’t care, I was finally going to break through the crest of my purity as we winked at each other like we were epileptic. It was as if I had successfully aimed at a peanut through a sniper rifle fitted with a kaleidoscope, from a kilometer away, I had finally scored!

I insisted we leave and then decided to walk through the urban ghetto that this city had become, it was romantic, mostly, actually completely, because it gave us a chance to walk together through a cold night and I finally had the chance to cross out a line on my bucket list that included giving my coat to someone special to make them feel comfortable and cozy. We decided to dine in at Hummus Palace a block away from my apartment and ate the special “RegretMeNot” hummus, as we walked out while holding hands, a voice entered my left ear and told me I was going to have my first kiss in a really long time for dessert. Our lips crossed like shoelaces and then we brushed our cheeks together but I felt like I was rubbing my face against a porcupine. I now, had another reason to commit suicide by jumping into Tsunami waves, I had made out with the infamous queen of herpes.
I had made out with Ranjish. Patel. Kumar. Turbanfulk. jr.

Leave a Reply