Cris’s World

Two conversations. Err dentists or docs, please skip this. No defamation charges shall be accepted.

Scene 1: Jim and Me in living room, today

Me: Jim, I am going to die

Jim: Oh?

Me: Yes. Next week.

Jim: Oh?

Me: I am against suicide

Jim: Oh?

Me: So I am appointing someone to kill me

Jim: I cant

Me: Eh?

Jim: I’d love to help you Cris you know I always do. But I don’t like the smell of blood

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“Jimmmmm”, I yelled at my fancy pal Mr Jim when I found him dozing in the middle of my interesting story.

And I got a very reactive reply. “Zzzzzzzzz”

“Well that’s just fine! You can pretend you are asleep but I’m finishing my story anyway”

Knowing he was in for it, Jim rose and said “Oh come on Cris! You know it’s boring!”

“It is not! You are just not using your imagination. Come let me take you to the place of action”

I saw it coming from far ahead. The shape and size was growing bigger every second. I knew it was destiny that put me here. The moment we were all scared of was finally here. It was man versus monster. And I was put in charge of the ‘man’ side. It was one woman against the monster. They must be sending their leader now and before you know it, a whole army of monsters would be at your doorstep. I had to do it. I had to save the human race. The monster had to go. There was no use sitting quiet. I had to talk to it.

It seems the 2 AM miseries are becoming a daily thing for me. Maybe I should write a book on them. Today, contradictory to my previous entry, I had a bad vomiting sensation (V-S for future references) which broke out exactly when the clock gave out the 2 AM chimes. If this was a curse, I will have to change my opinion about curses. I always thought them harmless little pranks old witches played on princes and frogs.

“Not anymore they aren’t”, my fancy pal Mr Jim said, apparently walking in from the next room. I must’ve been loud about my curse-protests. I ignored him knowing he wanted me to ask why.

The time was 2 AM. Everything was settled. The day’s duties were over.

“Ping”

“What was that?” I asked aloud.

My fancy pal Mr Jim emerged from under the bed and offered the answer. “That was a ping”

“Thanks Jim. Nice of you to drop in”

“Ouch”

“Oh no Cris. A ping and an ouch. That could only mean one thing.”

“I am hungry”

Well that was perfect. The clock ran for 24 hours and my intestine system chose 2 AM to run out of provision.

“Jim what do I do?”

“I feel horrible”

I said looking at the ceiling fan. The ceiling fan had nothing to do with the horribleness, but it looked like a good thing to talk to. My fancy pal Mr Jim, whose existence I buried under a few pillows moments ago, popped up to join the conversation.

“Cris that’s the 15th time you are using that word!”

“Today?”

“This minute! And that’s only because it takes you 4 seconds to say horrible!”

“4? What am I, a turtle?”

“Turtles don’t talk English”

I am sick. I feel horrible. I am dying. I am dead!

My fancy pal Mr Jim looked interested. “You are not really dead are you?”

“No and you don’t have to look so happy about it!”

“You are talking. That’s not a good sign. You might survive.”

“Jim we all have our sick days and one of these days you will be crawling on all fours for a bit of oxygen”

“Oh that’s what it was. I thought you were doing a new kind of spider dance”

I was trying to come up with a story today. My fancy pal Jim was trying to help me. At least that’s what I thought he was built for!

“Daniel was a boy who lived in D. That’s my first line Jim”

“What’s D?”

“Name of the city he lived in”

“That’s a short name”

“I will expand it later dummy. So my second line… He picked up gooseberries and planted… errr… mud trees”

“Mud trees?”

“Err yea. They… they grow in mud”

“Oh yea! I bet he also planted some plastic trees and later cut them all down for porcelain trees!”