The first time I heard of the title, I said, "wait a minute...who did u said, the movie stars".
"Amitabh Bachchan, Tabu, Paresh Rawal..." was the cold, irked reply. "u r a real dumb-head, 16-bit processor..it takes u umpteen buzzes to realize n register three names..fuck you.."
"ok, Godhead, go n mug...u 've a test tommorrow, n lemme fix my innate mother-fuckin-board...i 'll fuckin format it today....cram the crap, u gud-fr-nothing psycho." i replied slyly, pretending that i was jst trying to pique him by expressionlessly repeating the same question thrice, though i actually was not. The time that elapsed b/w the first gusto echo, n the vilifying "fuck you" was genuinly the time I took to corelate the work at hand (the usual job, sitting n concocting plans to find an idle flapless private-"time n space" to jerk off) to the first few alien strings that rapped my drums,"Cheeni Kum, this is the new movie on the block", and that which saw me floating in the sea of infinite upsurges (that followed the beat), n unfold the relation b/w cheeni(=sugar) kum, plans, amitabh bachchan, tabu, cheeni(=chinese) cum, jerk-off, paresh rawal, n all the other permutationally possible sets.
Then finally, after the nimbus of mayhem cleared, i mouned sighes of distress..."oh fuck wid this head. do u 've a hammer? i need to settle issues nw n for all...i 'll fuckin thrash it..no more of me, n none of this ache...it seeps like ice-cold titanium cutting n flowing recursively from the sheath of the mycoderma to the gravity of the cerebrum...it fuckin kills.."
"Whats this time, Mr. Delicate?" he roured.
"oh! leave it. its the same fucking head-ache, my legacy fr life..but, you dont worry pal. I 'll get the pills myself. The chemist is at a stone's throw, n I think...ahhh...i can handle it. Its nothing..believe me.."
"u sure??" said he to my foreboding.
"certainly. Thanks for ur concerns dude, but I 'll manage....ooohh, aahh..ouuch...yeahhhhhh..fuck it..fuck it....(I 'm a horrible actor, n the most blatant plagiarist feasible...these cliched porn verses never bare off me.)"
"r u fine?..jst lay down n have some rest..i 'll get u the pills asap..."
"oh, no i 'll do it"
"shut up, n lay prostrate, my bitch..I 'm goin to the chemist to get my armour, n then I 'll crib ur blurting fissure...got it"
"oh, yes my master, u be my bait.."
leaves..
fuck you, motherfucker..."whats this time?" hann...
"sick my duck, pimp!!!"
5 minutes, thats all I 've got..
think, think....
wake up!..wake up. grab a brush, n put a lil' make-up (what the hell!!..fuck you all)
no brush, no fuckin make-up... only take-up n blow-off..
....
...
..
knock-knock. "open up, slut. I 've got the insurance.."
knock-knock-knock-----knock.....
blow-blow-blow....
"get ur hands off, you bloddy insatiable pervert.
i know of you..i 'll fuck u this time."
...
...
...
Fucked big-time.
"Amitabh Bachchan, Tabu, Paresh Rawal..." was the cold, irked reply. "u r a real dumb-head, 16-bit processor..it takes u umpteen buzzes to realize n register three names..fuck you.."
"ok, Godhead, go n mug...u 've a test tommorrow, n lemme fix my innate mother-fuckin-board...i 'll fuckin format it today....cram the crap, u gud-fr-nothing psycho." i replied slyly, pretending that i was jst trying to pique him by expressionlessly repeating the same question thrice, though i actually was not. The time that elapsed b/w the first gusto echo, n the vilifying "fuck you" was genuinly the time I took to corelate the work at hand (the usual job, sitting n concocting plans to find an idle flapless private-"time n space" to jerk off) to the first few alien strings that rapped my drums,"Cheeni Kum, this is the new movie on the block", and that which saw me floating in the sea of infinite upsurges (that followed the beat), n unfold the relation b/w cheeni(=sugar) kum, plans, amitabh bachchan, tabu, cheeni(=chinese) cum, jerk-off, paresh rawal, n all the other permutationally possible sets.
Then finally, after the nimbus of mayhem cleared, i mouned sighes of distress..."oh fuck wid this head. do u 've a hammer? i need to settle issues nw n for all...i 'll fuckin thrash it..no more of me, n none of this ache...it seeps like ice-cold titanium cutting n flowing recursively from the sheath of the mycoderma to the gravity of the cerebrum...it fuckin kills.."
"Whats this time, Mr. Delicate?" he roured.
"oh! leave it. its the same fucking head-ache, my legacy fr life..but, you dont worry pal. I 'll get the pills myself. The chemist is at a stone's throw, n I think...ahhh...i can handle it. Its nothing..believe me.."
"u sure??" said he to my foreboding.
"certainly. Thanks for ur concerns dude, but I 'll manage....ooohh, aahh..ouuch...yeahhhhhh..fuck it..fuck it....(I 'm a horrible actor, n the most blatant plagiarist feasible...these cliched porn verses never bare off me.)"
"r u fine?..jst lay down n have some rest..i 'll get u the pills asap..."
"oh, no i 'll do it"
"shut up, n lay prostrate, my bitch..I 'm goin to the chemist to get my armour, n then I 'll crib ur blurting fissure...got it"
"oh, yes my master, u be my bait.."
leaves..
fuck you, motherfucker..."whats this time?" hann...
"sick my duck, pimp!!!"
5 minutes, thats all I 've got..
think, think....
wake up!..wake up. grab a brush, n put a lil' make-up (what the hell!!..fuck you all)
no brush, no fuckin make-up... only take-up n blow-off..
....
...
..
knock-knock. "open up, slut. I 've got the insurance.."
knock-knock-knock-----knock.....
blow-blow-blow....
"get ur hands off, you bloddy insatiable pervert.
i know of you..i 'll fuck u this time."
...
...
...
Fucked big-time.
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