Calvin And Hobbes: The Last One

He opened his eyes to darkness. He felt around with his hands and found the wall to his right, along which his bed lay. He groped around until he found a switch and flipped it on. Harsh white fluorescent light filled the room and hurt his eyes. Reflexively, he closed them and groaned. His head hurt – no, pounded from within, and it felt like a million sledgehammers threatening to break open his skull. He turned on to his side and winced as sharp points of pain pricked his joints and when he couldn’t take it anymore, he sat up. Still dressed in his clothes from the night before, he looked down at his hands and feet, wondering how he ever got home. The last thing he remembered was his tenth beer. There had been a lot of shouting, a lot of music, loud music, and a lot of dancing. He vaguely remembered throwing up somewhere, and sure enough, he saw the dirty yellow stains on his white shirt and blue jeans.”Shit,” he muttered, and swung his legs off the bed.

Standing in the middle of the room, he stretched himself and took a step towards the bathroom when he stepped on something soft and furry. He looked down at the old stuffed tiger he used to play with as a kid, and kicked it under the bed in anger. He had suffered enough because of it, and he had no intention of ruining his life further.

“Twenty years,” he said to the bit of furry tail still visible from under the bed. “Twenty years of my life ruined because I thought you were real. They stuck me in a nut house and asked me to swallow pills every two hours. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Then, calming himself, he took a few deep breaths and said, almost chanted, “You’re not real. You’re not real.”

He walked into the bathroom, showered, shaved and came out feeling refreshed. As he stood looking at his thirty-year old beaten, worn-out, pot-bellied frame, he thought back to the day in his youth when he had burned his parents alive. The tiger had asked him to do it. The tiger had said it would be a good idea. He had listened to the tiger and killed his parents. Pain wracked through his mind and he shut his eyes tight as tears rolled down his wet cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said to no one in particular.He was different then, before the medication, before the doctors, before the black-outs…

When he turned away from the mirror, he was about to reach down to grab a shirt from the floor, when he stopped dead in his tracks. The stuffed tiger that he had kicked under the bed was now back where it had been. The single remaining beady eye and the empty socket where the other bead had been looked up at him in a cold stare, unflinching, as if daring him to talk. As if daring him to scream, to shout, to say something. He stared at the tiger, frozen in mid-step and too scared to do anything. He swallowed a large gulp of fear and said, “You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not real.”

He turned away closing his eyes and shut both his ears with his hands, still chanting his mantra. When he stopped to catch a breath, he heard someone call his name from behind him.

“Calvin,” the voice said. “Why won’t you talk to me anymore?”

“No!” he screamed. “Don’t talk to me! You’re not real!” He still was turned away, now crouching near the wall, his head resting against the corner. “Shut up!”

“You think I don’t miss you, Calvin?” the voice asked.

“You’re not real. You’re not real…” he continued in monotone, rocking back and forth, drowning out the tiger’s voice.

“Of course I’m real. I’m right here. Turn around, Calvin.”

And he didn’t know why he did it, but he did. He turned, opened his eyes and saw the tiger standing there in the middle of the room. The tiger was smiling at him, standing on its hind legs, holding out its hands as if waiting for an embrace. Calvin took a tentative step towards the tiger, still confused and the madness showing on his face with no inhibition. “NO…!!” he screamed. “You are NOT real!” and he ran towards the bed-side drawer, pulled out a gun from inside and put it in his mouth.

He looked at the tiger’s eye and saw the tears rolling down to its cheek and forming tiny puddles on the floor. He was crying himself. He couldn’t stop the tears.

“Don’t do it, Calvin,” said the tiger, stifling a sob.

“I’m sorry, Hobbes,” he said and pulled the trigger. As the last shard of life left his body, he thought he saw a stuffed tiger lying at his feet. He tried to smile and tried to tell himself that the tiger was not real. He tried, in vain.

At Last!

The Dark Knight
Why so frikkin' serious!

At long last, I did it! I finally watched The Dark Knight! ๐Ÿ˜€

It happened yesterday, when Aparna sent me a message saying, “Hey, I’m going to watch Dark Knight tonight!” and I officially became the only living being alive not having watched the movie. I put a plan in motion at around six o’ clock in the evening and made up my mind that I was going to watch the damn movie no matter what! ๐Ÿ˜€

I sent my terrorist brother to his friend’s place – a friend who had managed to download the movie through ฮผtorrent – and asked him to burn the movie on a DVD. He was not supposed to return home without the movie. And the kid did not disappoint! He returned around ten in the night and held up the DVD and said, “This is gonna cost you a hundred bucks!”

Are you frikkin nuts? I would’ve gone to the theater if I had to pay so much!” I screamed. I was now eying the DVD like it was ‘my precious’ much like Gollum did in The Lord Of The Rings! ๐Ÿ˜€

“Ok, I’ll head back to his house and return the DVD, then,” said the terrorist and turned around.

Wait!” I shouted. “Just wait. Can we.. can we negotiate?”

“How’s this for a deal: I’ll give you the DVD and you give me the hundred,” he said and leaned against the wall, as though he had all the time in the world. I fidgeted. I half-considered snatching the DVD from his hand and running to my room, but quickly dismissed the idea because he’s a bit bigger and a lot more stronger than I am, though I hate to admit it, and he’d break down my door and kick my ass if I did that. Oh, he’s broken through a few doors in his time. ๐Ÿ˜€

So, I said, “Ok, so give me the DVD.”

He looked at me like I was an idiot and said, “Do I look as stupid as you do?”

We needs our precious!
We needs our precious!

“My precious,” I murmured and eyed the DVD through greedy eyes.

“My money,” he said and yawned.

“Ok, ok,” I said and opened my wallet and saw that there was exactly one hundred bucks, including the coins, which themselves added up to thirty bucks! So, I literally cleaned out my wallet and dumped all the money in his huge hands and said, “My precious! We needs our precious!” ๐Ÿ˜€

He stood there and counted the money carefully and only when he was satisfied the I hadn’t short-changed him, he reluctantly handed over the DVD to me. I snatched at it and held it close to my chest and slunk back to my room, murmuring, “Precious! My precious!”

I plugged in the DVD and sat back, put my feet up on the table and smiled to myself. I was finally going to watch The Dark Knight! After so long, after reading countless reviews in the papers and on blogs, after being ridiculed at work and outside for not having seen the movie, having sat through four weeks of lunch breaks at office, listening to people commenting on the movie and how brilliant it was and how awesome it was and how breath-taking it was and of course, those long accolades hurled at Heath Ledger, Christian Bale and Aaron Eckhart – after all that, I was finally going to watch the movie.

The movie started at 10.33 pm (I made a note of the time) and ended at precisely 12.56 pm and for those 2 hours and 23 minutes, my hand was frozen halfway between the bowl of potato chips and my wide-open mouth.

Ah, heaven! ๐Ÿ˜€

The Death Of The Knock-Knock Joke!

Fellow blogger and close friend, Scorpria, just killed the “Knock-Knock” joke!

For centuries, the Knock-Knock jokes have enthralled us and held us captive in their charm and wit and charisma, and total disregard for pronunciation, punctuation and common sense! They have never failed to bring a smile to our faces and laugh at our own ignorance! Now, the Knock-Knock joke is no more! There is evenย  a Wikipedia page dedicated to this great joke!

This was the conversation, verbatim, that occured on the 18th of July, at 4.59 pm.

Me: Hey Scorpria, mind if I tell you a great Knock-Knock joke?

Scorpria: Oh, not at all! I love them!

Me: Knock! Knock!

Scorpria: Come in!ย  ๐Ÿ˜€

…………

Doctors, please note the hour of death. Obituaries are called for, and may be deposited in the comments section.

Due to the gruesomeness of the murder, I also call for a discussion to decide the most appropriate punishment for Scorpria. Such murderers cannot be allowed to walk the streets scott-free! Also, please be noted that a motion has been passed to officially christen July 18th as the “Knock-Knock Day,” in loving memory.

Rest In Peace!

Image Courtesy: metal-archives.com