If You Hate Someone

Warning: This might turn out to be quite a nasty post. I realized that I haven’t slandered anyone on the blog for the longest time. It’s time to introduce another asshole to the readers of MirrorCracked.

Of all the things I hate the most, I think I hate being talked about behind my back. Well, I know I can’t escape it, but when things that are said without being thought out and without consideration to the consequences, it irks me to no end. Oh, I’m not angry right now, as I write this. I am just wondering about the twoย  fundamentals of human emotion – love and hate. Isn’t it strange how you can love a person one instant and hate them the next? Of course, it’s a well-known dichotomy that people live with, but when it hits you in the face, you can’t help but wonder about the fragility about everything that was and everything that could have been.

Why the hell am I ranting so much? Does the asshole I’m referring to even realize that I’m ranting about him? I don’t know if the asshole even reads this blog, so I think I’ll have to email the link to the him.

Anyhoo, here’s the situation – I met an asshole in Bombay, who single-handedly made my week miserable and got away with it. I’m not a revenge-guy and I don’t really care about what happens to the asshole from now on. For all I care, the asshole can stand in the middle of the road butt-naked and punch a speeding bus in the face. But, interestingly enough, I realized that the asshole was just doing his job.

Most assholes are just doing their jobs, and in the process, they piss you off. From the goodness of my heart, I will excuse the bastard and let him lead his miserable excuse of a life. But here’s an open invitation to anyone who reads this: If you hate someone, and you want me to slander that person in my own fantastic way, then leave your comment here with a pseudonym of the person, his/her gender and the reason why you hate him/her. I will not disappoint you.

How To Kill Your Landlord

After having a major fight with my conscience last night about whether to move out of the zoo I’m living in, I slept fitfully, trying out different options to hunt down and kill the rats that were wreaking havoc in the house. It’s not healthy in the first place. So, my instinct is to get the hell out. But slowly, the realization dawned on me that these rats were super-advanced than their dumb cousins in Bangalore.

They had evolved from being scavengers to being fine-diners; they hardly touched any of the rat poison pellets I’d left for them around the house. That’s when I made the decision to leave them be and focus instead on hunting down and killing my landlord.

My landlord is a stupid ninety-year-old fucker, who thinks he’s still young enough to drive a car by himself and lift a huge slab of granite all by himself. In hindsight, I think I should’ve let him do those things and let nature take its own course. But waiting for the elusive heart-attack takes a lot of patience, more than what I have.

So, I decided to take down two birds pests with one stone and came up with a brilliant scheme, worthy of a jail sentence just for the thought. Here’s how the four-step scheme works:

  1. Buy a rabid dog.
  2. Get the rabid dog to bite the old fucker.
  3. Get the rat to bite the rabid old fucker.
  4. Attend two funerals.

I was so pleased with myself that I went in search of a rabid dog this morning. The hunt is still on. I wonder why I keep having flashes of Hannibal in my head.

So, as you can see, I’ve been busy with matters of life and death, which is why I’ve been so inactive online. I hate myself for not having the time to respond to the comments and not having time to read any other blogs.

And I also realized that this is a great money-making scheme. If any of you want to kill your landlord, then get in touch with me. I charge by the hour.

PS: I’m not a professional killer-for-hire. I only kill landlords who are stupid fuckers. If you want me to kill anyone else, then I’m not interested.

PPS: If any law enforcement personnel are reading this post and raising their eyebrows and planning to come and arrest me, then I have two words for you fuckers – “Eat Doh-nuts!”

Living In Ghost Town

Bangalore - The New Ghost Town

For two days in a row, I have had this feeling that I’m living in a ghost town. The shortest distance from my house to my office is 18 kilometers (around 15 miles), and for the past 7 months, the shortest time I’ve taken to drive from one place to the other is 1.2 hours. So, you can imagine my surprise when, on the 13th of November, I reached my office in 27 minutes.

I parked my bike and looked around just to reassure myself that I was really there. While returning home that night, I took 30 minutes. I could not sleep a wink. The roads had been strangely devoid of people; for the longest stretches, mine was the only bike. No pedestrians, green lights all the way, no hot chicks on the sidewalk, nothing. I finally dismissed the incident as an anomaly.

When the same thing yesterday, I got scared. Where the hell is everybody?

The Pharaoh Look

That was when it struck me – I have a Pharaoh look going for the past three days, and I think I’ve been cursed. The thin striptease of a beard running down my chin probably sparked angry protests among the dead Pharaohs and they want revenge for my lack of respect. They’re probably playing mind games on me. Shit! I need some help!

If I don’t post anything for the next two days, you can safely assume that I’m dead.

Hairy Potter And The Barber Of Andaman

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and all names, incidents or places are fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons or characters living, dead or fictional is purely coincidental and no harm is intended to anyone through this story.

The story so far: Hairy Potter, who’s blessed with amazing bladder control, finds an Over Ambitious Gall Stone (O.A. Gall) in his kidney, which escapes its confines and runs away to see the world. Hairy is depressed over this fact and with the absolute indifference shown by the police in this regard, and gets drunk. He urinates for the first time in 4 weeks, and by mistake, stumbles upon the Chamber Of Cigarettes in the ladies’ toilet. He smokes one of the cigarettes in the Chamber, and this does not go undetected by the elusive and villainous fart cloud – Wall de Fart.

Wall de Fart wants revenge on Hairy Potter for encroaching on his hidden Chamber. He also wants O.A Gall killed, for some strange reason, as yet undisclosed. He discovers that O.A Gall is in Sydney, and is keeping the Gall Stone under close surveillance.

Why is the Chamber Of Cigarettes so important to Wall de Fart?

Who is Wall de Fart?

Why is he so interested in Hairy and his Gall Stone?

Why is Wall de Fart a cloud of fart?

Read on to find out…

Hairy Meets His God-Farter
Hairy Meets His God-Farter

The reporter was a piece of shit. Literally.

He wrote for a newspaper called The Daily Fart, which had a readership of more than a million. So, he had some credibility. He sat in the dingy room, regretting his decision to come. He looked at the strange creature in front of him and felt the fear in his veins. He never should have come to this interview.

“You never should’ve come here,” said Wall de Fart, staring intently at the reporter. “Why do you want to know my story so badly?”

“Well,” said the piece of shit reporter. “You’ve always been something of a mystery to all the readers of The Daily Fart. I want to show them the man behind the cloud of fart. Is it true that your name has a literal connotation to it?”

Wall de Fart thought for a while before replying. “Your sources are good, I give you that. Ssso, let’s talk about my background,” he hissed. The reporter shivered.

“A long time ago, I was attacked by the greatest fart cloud ever known to Man. The force was so great that I was hurled against a wall nearby and lost my physical body. Some strange phenomenon occurred and I acquired the cloud of fart as my body, and in the process, the greatest fart cloud died. I am proud of it. I became Wall de Fart.”

“Hmmm… Right,” said the reporter, trying not to sound insolent. “And the prophecy…?”

“Ah, the prophecy,” said Wall de Fart. “There’s a prophecy that predicts that I’ll be killed by an abnormal phenomenon. Most of the abnormal phenomena in the world have already been ‘taken care’ of, if you know what I mean!” he said and laughed out loudly. “Now, only one such abnormality remains, but not for long. No one can defeat the greatest fart cloud of all time! Hissss!”

The reporter shook in his chair with fright. “And wh-what is this abnormality?”

Wall de Fart just smiled at him.


O.A. Gall finished his drink and looked around the empty bar. He was tired of Sydney. He wanted to go somewhere he could let loose and feel the adrenaline. He made up his mind. The next day, he boarded a flight to the Andaman Islands to go scuba diving. He did not notice the small cloud of fart hiding near the passport counters, as he passed it. The small cloud of fart made a single phone call and left the airport.


The Barber of Andaman was the greatest assassin known to the world. Er, I mean unknown, but known to the right people, and feared by the rest of the ignorant world. He was silent, swift and rarely made mistakes. He also charged 30% more than the other assassins, and never advertised in the Yellow Pages. He was a brute of a man, over 7 feet tall, and strong as an ox. There was nothing he feared in the world. Yet, as he flipped his phone shut, he was pale and shivering.


Meanwhile, Hairy Potter decided to visit his God-Farter and ask him for advice. He felt really depressed, and the alcohol hadn’t helped at all. He bought a ticket to his God-Farter’s country and left the next day. Two seats behind him on the plane, sat another small fart cloud, watching Hairy and studying his every move. It flipped open a phone, sent a brief text message and switched off the phone, removed the SIM card, broke it in two and disposed of the phone.


O.A. Gall donned the wet suit, adjusted his breathing apparatus and plunged from the boat into the brilliant blue sea. As the first waves his him, he knew it had been the right decision to go scuba diving. He felt a surreal calm sweep over him, and he felt weightless as he began to sink beneath the surface. He breathed the compressed air deeply and saw the amazing spread of marine life beneath him, and smiled for the first time since he had escaped from Hairy’s kidney.

Unknown to O.A. Gall, the Barber had him in his sight. He adjusted the high-powered rifle and squinted through the lens, and found the tiny mass of The Over Ambitious Gall Stone floating just beneath the smooth surface of the ocean. He gripped the barrel lightly, breathed deeply and put a finger to the trigger, and was about to squeeze the trigger, when someone screamed behind him. He jerked up in surprise but it was too late – the bullet whizzed from the gun, silently because of the silencer, and dropped harmlessly in the water.

The Barber was burning with rage when he turned around, but the anger disappeared when he saw who had screamed.

“Hi God-Farter!” screamed Hairy and ran up to the Barber and threw his hairy body around him. “Oh, I missed you!”

The Barber forced the tears from his eyes. “I missed you too, Hairy! How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been all right. I just needed someone to talk to,” said Hairy as he released his God-Farter.

“Hairy, I believe we both are in very grave danger right now,” said the Barber solemnly. “I just failed in my first assignment, and the man who gave me the assignment is not going to angry. No one fails Wall de Fart…”

Hairy opened his eyes in surprise and shock and felt the fear flood his body like darkness at dusk. He watched as the giant Barber fell to his knees and cried…


The stray bullet from the Barber’s gun lodged itself in the ocean bed with sufficient force to stir up a few artifacts. Among the debris that had been disturbed, was an ancient coin with strange inscriptions on it.


O.A. Gall saw something floating up towards him from the depths, and saw the glint of sunlight on the object. He dived down and clutched the coin in his tiny hands and surfaced. Once on the boat again, he looked carefully at the coin. It had a strange cloud inscribed on it, with the words, “Ne pas pรฉter de couchage sur le dragon” inscribed around it. His French was sufficiently advanced to realize that this translated into, “Do not fart on the sleeping dragon.”

For the first time in his life, O.A. Gall was afraid…

[to be continued…]

Oh My God!


I am terrified! I am in mortal fear of my sanity! I don’t know what to do! I am freaking out! I need professional help! I am losing my mind! Aaaaargh!

Okay, sorry for that. I am being a little melodramatic, but my life’s become so full of shit right now that I am not able to squeeze in the time to blog! I am such an idiot when it comes to time management! Anyway, I have made up my mind now – I am going to blog every day, come what may! I don’t care if I miss appointments; I don’t care if I piss clients off; I don’t care if I get a low performance rating; I don’t care if I miss my flight/train/bus – it’s one post a day or I’m a retarded monkey. And I know I’m not a retarded monkey.

Also, I have this sneaking feeling that I have Alzheimers’. My mom’s dad had it and there’s a good chance I do too. Every time my finger or my eye twitches, my heart skips a beat. So, in all probablility, I am going to lose my mental acuity and my control over my muscular movements. I will wither away and mumble to myself and breathe my last. So, it’s better I blog everyday because I don’t wanna wither away with regrets.

Fuck excuses. I give you all permission to shoot me on sight if I don’t visit your blog regularly and comment. Go ahead. Bullets are cheap. Someone tried to stone me to death with popcorn the other day, so I am guessing bullets are more effective.

Okay, I’ll stop talking nonsense. ๐Ÿ˜€

The ‘Butt’on Brigade

This post is for the person who gave me that screwball lecture on Global Warming,ย ย  ๐Ÿ˜€

I sat through a long discourse on global warming and how it’ll affect the kind of clothes we wear on a daily basis. Apparently, the Earth is going to become too hot for us to wear clothes and we’d all be walking around butt-naked on the streets, sweating like pigs. Nudists are going to have a field day, however, but for the rest of us unfortunates, we will be forced to do something drastic to preserve whatever ‘little’ decency we have.

From the Stone Age to the Information Age and the present Boobage, we’re hurtling towards another Ass Age. Strangely, this comes just before the next Ice Age, and the two pronunciations are not to be confused. So, what do we do in this ex-ass-perating situation?

There will come a time when people’s butts will become a taboo – as taboo’d as the other ‘private’ parts. Unfortunately, people will not share the same obsession they have for these parts and we’ll see them being bared in public. But the butt, it’s gonna be highly private. Someone will invent a Butt-Guard or a Butt-Off or something similar in all shapes and sizes and fake ones too, that will protect the butt from prying eyes. More than anything, these inventions will prevent Ass Lovers from their eye-candy.

These Ass Lovers will create a secret society called the ‘Butt’on Brigade, and their main objective will be to beautify the backside through underground videos. Scores of people will be misled into joining the ‘Butt’on Brigade and kids as young as 10 will be brainwashed and made to join. Law and order will fail against the sheer numbers of the Brigadiers and the kids will create their own version called the ‘Little Asses.’

And since all the truths about Global Warming would have been proven to be true, the Governments of all the countries will decide that they need to ignore the ominous signs again. Their anal logic would be: Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, so why should Global Warming?

But the logic would turn out to be just that – anal and stinky, Global Warming would strike again, bringing an end to the Ice and the Ass Age. The taboos would return to normal. We’d be flashing our butts in public again and hiding other parts.

If only this fucked-up version of the future were true. Unfortunately, it’s just a dream. An ass-piration…

The Funny Guy! :)

I have recently been awarded the dubious distinction of being Mr. Funny Guy by my friends. I should be honored, and to an extent, I am. How this title came about and why I am not really satisfied with it will be apparent after you read this whole post. ๐Ÿ™‚

It was a dark and gloomy Wednesday evening, around six, when I decided to wrap things up in the office and go all the way to Yelahanka, where my brother was waiting in the police station after his bike had been towed away. I had to go there and pay the fine of 600 bucks to bail the bike out. When I left, the rain had just about abated and I made quick time in traveling the 30-odd miles to Yelahanka. We both got drenched on the way back, but that seems to be a minor point of little or no interest to the readers, who’re probably well accustomed to my bouts of bad luck. I met a few friends for dinner that night and decided to liven up the night with a joke.

“Okay, people! I am going to tell you a joke!” I announced. Everyone fell silent and listened intently, being aware of my reputation for spinning a lovely yarn. I was actually trying to impress my friend’s cute cousin who’d joined us. She was sitting next to me and seemed to be hanging on my every word. I desperately wanted to impress her and make her smile. So, I dug into my vast database of corny jokes and pulled out the best one!:D

“There was this scientist,” I began, “and he had just invented a biologically-engineered refrigerator. The fridge was so cool (no puns intended!) that it could order groceries online and make instant breakfast. It ran on some pretty cool DNA-computing circuits and was state-of-the-art! It was more intelligent than the most intelligent computers of the day. So, this scientist was selected for the Nobel Prize that year.”

I looked at the cute girl, paused for effect, and smiled. Everyone on the table was gripped. “The Nobel Committee waned him to fly over to Stockholm and demonstrate his bio-engineered refrigerator. So, this scientist rented a single engine Cessna plane and started his journey. Halfway through the flight, the single engine died and the plane began to crash. The pilot screamed, “Hey scientist! We are too heavy and the plane can’t handle it! You have to throw your fridge out!”

“No way!” screamed the scientist. “I have given my whole life for this invention!”

“Look, fella! If we don’t throw it overboard, we’re all going to die. It’s too heavy. You have your research data with you anyway. It’s just a question of assembling it again. Please understand!”

“So, this scientist, after careful deliberation, opened the door with a heavy heart and threw the fridge out.”

I stopped talking and took a sip of water and leaned back with a smile. Everyone on the table were leaning forward, intently waiting. “Then what happened?” asked the cute girl next to me.

“Nothing,” I said. “That’s the end of the story. ”

When they all realized that I had conned them, it was too late. The expression on their faces was a million dollar one. I started laughing out so loud that I drowned their angry retorts and groans and the hotel manager came up, glared at me and said, “Sir, please don’t laugh so loud. You’re disturbing the other guests!”

I continued laughing in a whisper and the other people around the table were ready to drown me in my tomato soup. “Okay guys, I am sorry,” I said. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll tell you a better joke this time and I swear on the graves of all the men, women and children who died building this hotel that you will not be disappointed.”

My reputation as a funny guy preceded me and they all agreed to give me one more chance. “Last chance,” said the cute girl next to me. “I’ll slap you if you do this again.”

I wanted to tell her that I would do anything to get her to slap me because that would mean she would have to touch me. Oh, she was so cute!! ๐Ÿ˜€

“Okay, get ready,” I announced and cleared my throat. “There’s this beautiful lake in the middle of nowhere and in the center of the lake is a small islet on which the most beautiful flower is growing. The lake is infested with crocodiles and sharks and piranhas and just about any man-eating critter nature has created. On the banks of the lake, a man and a woman are sitting, cuddled up. They are very much in love with each other. The woman asks the man to swim across and get that flower for her. He protests and says that he’s going to killed trying to cross the lake. “Is this how much you love me?” asks the girl, very depressed. So, the man takes offense and says, “If you want me to prove my love to you, then I will cheat death and get you the flower.” He strips down and starts swimming. He battles all the critters that come in his way and finally reaches the middle of the lake, plucks the flower and swims back, again battling nature’s fury. He reaches the shore and climbs out holding the flower. And then, right in front of the woman’s eyes, he dies!”

I paused for effect. “Why did he die?” I asked, looking around at everyone.

They were all listening to my story so intently that one of them immediately said, “The flower was poisonous”

“No,” I said.

“Something attacked him!”


“He had a heart attack?”


The cute girl then said, “Tell me, tell me! Please!”

I couldn’t ignore her cries. Oh, and her voice was so sweet. So, I told them the answer – “The fridge fell on him!”

For two minutes there was complete silence and I inched closer to the cute girl and turned my head at an angle so that she could get a good whack at my cheek. But to my surprise, she burst out laughing and so did the others. They liked the stupid joke! I was so annoyed!

So, that’s how I got the title and that’s why I am not too excited about it! She didn’t slap me! Now, I don’t know when I am going to see her next. Damn! ๐Ÿ˜ฆ