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The Red Joggers
It was a funny sight... it really was! You know... you don't normally see ladies wearing joggers... and what do you know... there she was, wearing JOGGERS. Now don't take me to be a chauvinist (if you don't know what that means go ask your teacher). I ain't, though many times I am told that I am one. The reason - my shyness!!!! (Do I hear any 'Hayay Allah'?) Yeah. So I cannot talk to girls. Like I have got a verbal and mental and whatever fear of ladies when they are right in front of me. Like I get the shivers when they pass by (not kidding!!!). Like I still don't have a girl friend just because the girl I am dying to talk to (and vice versa) is almost as shy as me - maybe less... but not more. Like I have got many a gal after me and what do you know, they openly ask... this guy is chauvinist???? No way ladies... the reason is quite the opposite. So don't you worry. This tall dark handsome (totally duffer, idiotic, ugly and what not and what not) guy is at your service.
But the real problem is the damn fact that I have got the habit of just getting carried away. Like what do you know? You have just seen a shift of light from joggers to chauvinists to shy guys to ladies just going mad for your dear old Smacula. Anyway lets come back to our spotlight. I was talking about shoes, rather joggers. So there she was, presenting a very funny sight. Not only wearing joggers but very conspicuous bright red joggers. Just imagine. A lady, correction, a very short lady, wearing nice clean white shalwar kameez, because when she is on vacations she gets college-sick. Reminds you of Ujala Supreme in the very first look. And what do you know. As soon as you prove yourself a shy guy and keep your eyes down and... Voila you are there!!!!! The damsel is wearing bright red joggers. Not that they were stupid looking or they looked like me, but just try to visualize. A four-foot figure, mostly clad in white, ends up in the last colour of the rainbow. So you don't look down. And you see a ghastly figure. (Do I remind you of Casper????) And now you look down. And what do you see? You see red joggers. Now what does that remind me of? Yes! Most of us have done our first year. Many of us have done our second year. What do you know? Many of us have actually gone to class 10th as well. But way back in the 20th century, I read that tale of a pretty little girl - the emphasis being on little and not pretty - who ruins her life just because of red shoes. I wonder if this had been the case with our own very little not so (but maybe) pretty girl.
Unfortunately I shall again have to send you back in the world of imaginations. Try to visualize. You are an old lady - or a budha baba, whichever suits you - and slightly short of sight, and slightly more colorblind. Maybe shortage of Vitamin A and D, but whatever the case may be, your imaginary state is not what concerns us. Now my dear budha readers, imagine that you have got a little girl you adopted, because she was so pretty and because you were damn rich and didn't know what to do with all that money of yours (like I can give a few suggestions, but...), so you thought why not get a few good deeds now that I have my feet in the grave (courtesy of Shashlick). And you come upon a sweet little girl who is more than pretty. The mirror defines her as more than pretty, it calls her lovely. I wonder what the difference is between the two, but there must be some because the mirror said so. Anyway. You decide to adopt her. Arrange a good future for her, educate her and become her stairs to success while you watch her walk towards the elevator.
Thinking of elevators, do you know that when you proudly call the lift an elevator you are making a big mistake? The English language has no such word as elevator. Don't believe the tale I am about to tell?? Ask your English teacher. I wonder if he knows. Anyway. I was saying. The correct word for that up and down machine is 'lift'. Seems a bit uncool but that is the appropriate word. No doubt, the Americans call it elevator, and no doubt the Americans invented the elevator, but no doubt, they did not invent the language. So for all you English and Urdu Polkas this is a damn important piece of knowledge.
So lets come back to the adventure you were about to have. I call it the Red Joggers. So by your help and aid and love and care, the girl grows up and gets to about four feet of height. (Talk about being tall!!!) Now what happens? One day you are invited to a party and she wears those beautiful red joggers. Why? Because she loves them, that's why. But you know about the people. What do they say? They say the rich old lady can't afford to buy her pretty short girl some proper footwear. Anyway. You scold her, you make her do pushups, you make her clean her bedroom, and you make her feel sorry.
Case closed. No way!! There it happens again. This time even worse. You are invited to a marriage ceremony. This time the 'shorty' has got dozens of pairs of proper formal footwear. But what does she come up with? Red Joggers!!! Again the people talk, again they mock. Again you scold her, make her do more pushups, make her clean her bedroom, make her clean your bedroom, make her clean my bedroom, and make her feel real damn sorry.
Case closed? No way! Not yet. This time you are invited to be the Guest of Honor at Sydney Olympics 2000, where you are gonna give the medals to the winners of the Women in 400 feet. This time you are extra cautious. This time you take her with you, to Bata, to Servis, and to Hush Puppies, and Caterpillar, and all the winners of formal footwear. Taking advantage of you poor (web) site she buys red joggers, even brighter and comfortable and prominent than ever. Result? This time she is with you as well. This time she is in them as well. This time the people mock too. This time it was too much. But what do you know? This is not all. God takes revenge from such people. So the pretty short lady is asked for a run up with the winners, and what do you know. She wins the race, and doesn't stop. Oh how she kicks and tries to stop. But cannot. Reason?? The red joggers. This time you paid some heck of money for them. And this time they brought a little magic with them. This time they are not programmed to run according to your will. This time they'll go on and on. This time they'll run according to Celine Dion's will. This time the joggers' heart will go on and on and take them with it.
So the pretty short gal gets in a damn fix as she runs around the world in 80 days. She still can't get the joggers off and she can't stop. She has been running day and night, and she is damn tired and damn hungry and damn thirsty and damn cross with you. After all it was you who took her to the magical shop. Anyway, after 80 days she comes back to find all she had lost. You died of a heart attack by the mockery of people. Your evil cousin took control of all your property and bank balance. All the girl has is her magical shoes. Try as she might to stop them, the shoes take her to the local Police Station, where with some help from the Mola Buksh the gal not only admits of your murder but also a lot of other crimes. Thus the red joggers contribute not only to your death but also to the waste of electricity as the court decides to kill her by electrical shock.
By the way, back to business. She was looking funny but she was looking pretty as well. I wonder if she had foreseen what I did and made clear to the entire world through the information highway. I wonder if she read it too. I wonder if she knows I love her...oops. Anyway, the moral of the story is, as soon as your website is getting poor, go get a new web designer. But what do you know. I design WebPages as well. And at a cheap rate too. So if you ever need me, you can always reply to me by email. Thanks for wasting your time on this piece of writing. Thanking you again, Smacula.
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