.... continuation of Life and Times Of A Superhero (Part I)
A2S2
Writer:
Khushhal Nadir Hadi
PhD in having the most likes on FB comments.Khushhal Nadir Hadi
A2S2
Typer (Yes, the story was too long to be typed by a single person):
Abdul Sattar
Member of The Student Blog Team.
“You know what; I always wanted to see the world from up here. It looks so…fascinating.” I said, uncertainty creeping into my voice for the first time,” thank you for giving such an amazing opportunity. But I’m sort of a land animal, so could you…? I looked at his dinner plate of a hand clamped on my delicate shoulder and nodded meaningfully.
“Rat think he be funny? Where will you go now, ho?” sneered the bully revealing teeth which would have given a dentist nightmares for weeks (If he was lucky, that is). And giving me another whiff of that sour bean odour. Geez, talk about bad breath, I thought (It wasn’t his fault. No mouth freshener could cleanse that abyss.)
“Me thinks ratty needs a three-way lesson. For spoiling my clothes. For poking my nose. And for being funny. Me will give him good makeover, HEHE” he winked. And what a nasty wink that was. I was wholly and truly terrified by now.
“M...m...makeover? That sounds interesting, but I have really got to go. You could give me a business card or something? We’ll hook up then?” I stammered, still trying to project a fake bravado.Unfortunately, the Bully’s sausage (nose) picked up the scent of fear like a bloodhound. A huge and ugly blood hound. (The meanest bloodhound you could think off, times infinity)
“Hohoho!” he laughed, tilting his head back like…Mandark? But even Mandark isn’t that EVIL, I thought (He even cute, A definite prince ling. But then who doesn’t look one when your standard bars are set so low?). “That ‘nuff rat. Let us... co… com” he started raining dandruff (and what was that a beetle?)
“Come to a peaceful solution?” I suggested hopefully, “Comedy? Comfort each other? How about a hug and… OUCH!”
The Bully had apparently had enough. He squeezed my shoulder like a lemon and raised his other fist. What followed is best described as: “BANG! POW! BAM! OWW! AAAIEE! MUMMMYY!”
My mother opens the door on the third doorbell, prepared to launch into a tirade on how one press of the doorbell button is healthy and blah. One look at me and she freezes, her mouth drops open as she holds me.
"How do bou bike by new book" I ask, striking a pose and pouting my swollen lips.
“What... On... Earth?” stuttereded my mother, clearly flabbergasted.
“A bakeover. By dose is dow in right blace. Don’t bou agree?” I grin, showing two gaping holes in my mouth. The mere sight, jolts my mother into action as she fusses over me like all moms do, and takes me inside. Upon hearing the story, she actually scolds me for being a smarty pants.
A broken nose, two missing teeth, a black eye, a ripped shirt with holes that now read “NERD”, and a twisted handle-bar with three wheels; essentially the ingredients of The Bully’s makeover and the best part was that he did it for free too. You silly women, paying thousands for these make-overs, thought my eleven year old brain. Maybe I should have taken The Bully's business card, I see the potential in him for greatness!
Nevertheless, I now see why The Bully did what he did. Oh, boy was I an annoying little git! But, dear diary, give me another chance, and I would probably do my best at getting another brutal “makeover.” If that’s the price for being sarcastic and optimistic, so be it. And don’t try going to the blue-neighbor-with-a-red-sky, or whatever it was, it will be as waste of time. The Bully only serves the warriors of true irony!
P.S. Yes, I knew a lot of “stuff” when I was eleven, and it was probably the time when I started developing a sense of humor (of sorts)
P.P.S. This story is PURELY fictional. I have NEVER been beaten up in real life!
Recap: The much superhero-ish eleven year old was on his 'Grocery Adventure' as he encountered a tall towering shadow on his way back.
The bully looked down at me, and I saw the moon. Or so I thought, till I figured that the moon had less bumps and cracks. With beady eyes, a sausage of a nose (bright red by the way. I wondered why?) and an ugly, huge mouth. He sure wasn't in a hurry to win any beauty pageant very soon. Then he began to speak... and I roared out laughing!
“You ruin me clothes? You blind? Rat?” he squeaked in a shrill two year old girl’s voice, while I laughed so hard that I fell and started wallowing in the mess Einstein had “caused” on the foot path. I was writhing around so hard that I failed to notice The Bully’s hand clamped upon my shoulder until I started rising in the air.
“Ouch! That hurts, squeaky!” I chortled, still not aware of the “evil” I had roused. The Bully lifted me till we were eye to eye, my feet dangling about two feet off the ground.
“Ouch! That hurts, squeaky!” I chortled, still not aware of the “evil” I had roused. The Bully lifted me till we were eye to eye, my feet dangling about two feet off the ground.
 |
| My hands tremble while drawing his sinister-ness. But I bet he was more horror-ific then this! |
“You know what; I always wanted to see the world from up here. It looks so…fascinating.” I said, uncertainty creeping into my voice for the first time,” thank you for giving such an amazing opportunity. But I’m sort of a land animal, so could you…? I looked at his dinner plate of a hand clamped on my delicate shoulder and nodded meaningfully.
“Rat think he be funny? Where will you go now, ho?” sneered the bully revealing teeth which would have given a dentist nightmares for weeks (If he was lucky, that is). And giving me another whiff of that sour bean odour. Geez, talk about bad breath, I thought (It wasn’t his fault. No mouth freshener could cleanse that abyss.)
“Me thinks ratty needs a three-way lesson. For spoiling my clothes. For poking my nose. And for being funny. Me will give him good makeover, HEHE” he winked. And what a nasty wink that was. I was wholly and truly terrified by now.
“M...m...makeover? That sounds interesting, but I have really got to go. You could give me a business card or something? We’ll hook up then?” I stammered, still trying to project a fake bravado.Unfortunately, the Bully’s sausage (nose) picked up the scent of fear like a bloodhound. A huge and ugly blood hound. (The meanest bloodhound you could think off, times infinity)
“Hohoho!” he laughed, tilting his head back like…Mandark? But even Mandark isn’t that EVIL, I thought (He even cute, A definite prince ling. But then who doesn’t look one when your standard bars are set so low?). “That ‘nuff rat. Let us... co… com” he started raining dandruff (and what was that a beetle?)
“Come to a peaceful solution?” I suggested hopefully, “Comedy? Comfort each other? How about a hug and… OUCH!”
The Bully had apparently had enough. He squeezed my shoulder like a lemon and raised his other fist. What followed is best described as: “BANG! POW! BAM! OWW! AAAIEE! MUMMMYY!”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My mother opens the door on the third doorbell, prepared to launch into a tirade on how one press of the doorbell button is healthy and blah. One look at me and she freezes, her mouth drops open as she holds me.
"How do bou bike by new book" I ask, striking a pose and pouting my swollen lips.
“What... On... Earth?” stuttereded my mother, clearly flabbergasted.
“A bakeover. By dose is dow in right blace. Don’t bou agree?” I grin, showing two gaping holes in my mouth. The mere sight, jolts my mother into action as she fusses over me like all moms do, and takes me inside. Upon hearing the story, she actually scolds me for being a smarty pants.
A broken nose, two missing teeth, a black eye, a ripped shirt with holes that now read “NERD”, and a twisted handle-bar with three wheels; essentially the ingredients of The Bully’s makeover and the best part was that he did it for free too. You silly women, paying thousands for these make-overs, thought my eleven year old brain. Maybe I should have taken The Bully's business card, I see the potential in him for greatness!
 |
| I shall remain the sarcastic and witty self that I am. |
Nevertheless, I now see why The Bully did what he did. Oh, boy was I an annoying little git! But, dear diary, give me another chance, and I would probably do my best at getting another brutal “makeover.” If that’s the price for being sarcastic and optimistic, so be it. And don’t try going to the blue-neighbor-with-a-red-sky, or whatever it was, it will be as waste of time. The Bully only serves the warriors of true irony!
-Your Supreme Owner,
Khushhal
P.S. Yes, I knew a lot of “stuff” when I was eleven, and it was probably the time when I started developing a sense of humor (of sorts)
P.P.S. This story is PURELY fictional. I have NEVER been beaten up in real life!
 |
| Just to make things clearer :D Note: All the doodle images are yet another attempt at comics of Lubaina Ehsan. :p |
2 comments:
HAHAHA.. Great Talent Khushal :)
Lubaina your attempt is a success ;)
Thank you Rimsha. =D
And Lubaina. Yes :)
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