The Quirky Life of P

Humor and satire revolving around Mr P- a fictional mix of an avatar of Mr Bean and the veritable Bertram Wooster of Wodehouse fame.

Archive for the category “Comedy”

Moody times

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The sky was dark, overcast and grey

As the sun was brooding behind the clouds;

Raindrops dripped, thunder rumbled,

The wind threw a tantrum with the window panes.

 

P couldn’t help be moody; it was such a gloomy day;

Though the clime was to blame he could hardly say;

With the weather and the traffic jam he was late for his date

And she had simply driven off with his best mate.

 

Aside: Of course P makes it a habit of being  late…

A mantra for absentmindedness

He bent down on all fours and peered under the bed. It was not there. He checked under the cushions, on the sofa and searched with his fingers in the gaps in between but was disappointed. P then took a moment to mentally track what he had exactly done on getting home with his shopping last evening.

untitled-1-copyBoth his hands had been loaded with his shopping bags that he had taken from the boot of the car and he had barely managed to open the door to enter the house. He had dumped his shopping on the dining table as was his usual way and had then stretched out on the sofa to watch some TV. It was only much later that he had unpacked and sorted out his shopping after which he had had his dinner and retired to bed.

But now it was quite late in the morning and although he was dressed and ready to leave for work on time, he could not find his car keys. He had searched everywhere in the house and had even gone through the grocery he had bought the previous day but the car keys had simply vanished. He did not wish to lose his job again and only if he could find the key in time, the situation could still be saved. He could then get to work even if a little late and sneak into his seat without alerting his boss

.untitled-2-copyFate however seemed to be conspiring against him. The key had mysteriously disappeared and P was nearly in tears with frustration and worry. Frantically he searched through the ledges of a book shelf which housed several spiritual and mystical books that he had collected over the years to help him in his inward quests. He had not bothered to read them and had only kept them dusted once in a while. His anxious and fumbling hands dislodged some books and one fell on the floor. P picked it up to put it back in its place. The book was one that he had borrowed from the library and it was all about mantras and mystical powers. P was quite in the habit of turning to God and the mystical when everything else failed.

However the only mantra P knew was “Om” and as a last resort, he decided to go to the car and try it out. He put his hand on the door handle on the driver’s side and pulled it. It opened magically. Excitedly P got in and sat on the driver’s seat. He held the steering wheel tightly with his fingers and closed his eyes. He then ran his hand down the side of the steering wheel and P muttered a loud “Om” as magically his fingers touched the car keys lodged in the slot there! P could never decide whether it was his mystical mantra or his absentmindedness that had brought the key to its slot in the car! It was all such a mystery!

Jalfrezie for Thanksgiving…

Never Too Late: Is there a person you should’ve thanked, but never had the chance? Is there someone who helped you along the way without even realizing it? Here’s your chance to express your belated gratitude.- Daily Prompt

P on the phone: “Hey Sis? How are things?”

Sis: “I’m all right P. What is it this time? You have to be quick. I am about to go shopping”.

P: “It’s nothing. I just wanted to call you and see how you were and…”

Sis: “P, get to the point, I’m in a hurry.”

P: “Well, I just finished making a vegetable Jalfrezie to go with my rice and ‘Sookha rotis’, like what you made for last Thanksgiving, and I followed your instructions exactly… but it does not taste the same like what you make…”

Sis: “So then, could you tell me what you did exactly?”

P: “I’ll read out what I had written down from your instructions…”

P proceeds to read out the recipe from the piece of paper:

“Recipe for vegetable Jalfrezie

2 tbsp oil , 1/2 tsp cumin seeds, 1/2 cup onion-chopped fine, 500 gm mixed vegetables-cut chunky, 10 shallots-peeled and halved, 1/4 cup tomato puree,1 tsp ginger paste, 1 tsp garlic paste, 1 tbsp green chillies-chopped fine , 1 1/2 tsp kashmiri chilli powder, a pinch of garam masala, 2 tomatoes-cut into cubes, coriander leaves-to garnish.
Heat oil and add the cumin seeds, Mix in the chopped onions and sauté till light brown,
Mix in the vegetables, shallots, tomato puree, ginger-garlic paste, green chillies, and chilli powder; Cook vegetables for ten minutes, Add tomato cubes, and cook for another 5 minutes, Stir, sprinkle a pinch of garam masala and cook for about 5 minutes and serve garnished with the coriander leaves.”

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Sis: “That sounds all right to me, except that there is no mention of salt…

P: “Oh, should I have added salt? You didn’t tell me that!”

Sis: “I am sure I said salt to taste… Unless you did take it literally and tasted some salt…”

P sheepishly: “Could be… could be… Can I add the salt now? I suppose it is never too late?”

Sis: “You can add the salt now, never too late unless you have finished eating the dish I guess, but the vegetables will not absorb it as well as when it is added while they are being cooked… Anyways, the dish would taste better with some salt even if it is added now.”

P: “OK then. Bye…”

Sis:  “Bye”

The phone was put down at the other end and then P realised he had forgotten something…

He called her up again and she picked up the phone.

Sis: “What is it now P?”

P: “I just wanted to say thank you. I wanted to thank you when I was over there yesterday at Thanksgiving but it slipped off my mind… I guess it is never too late to let you know how much I appreciate all your help and advices and for putting up with me.”

Sis: “P my dear brother, you don’t have to put into words all your feelings… It’s always written all over your face! I love you for all your quirks!”

P: “Thank you sis! I love you too… And before you go for shopping can you come on Skype and take me through how I can make some ‘Sookha rotis’ to go with the Jalfrezie please?..”

It was too late for P as the phone then was switched off on the other end.

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Never Too Late

Murder on the train

Overheard: This week’s writing challenge revolves around eavesdropping.

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P had been ill at ease with the night travel by train in India, especially when he did not get tickets for the air-conditioned compartment and had to travel second class with the windows left open to counter the heat. It was not helpful that only the previous day, he had watched the film ‘Madras mail’, which was about a murder on a train. Tired, he had however nodded off and was woken as the train jerked to a stop at a station.  As he lay there with his eyes still shut, slowly drifting off to sleep, he was jolted by the sound of a slap. He kept his eyes closed and listened…

Child’s voice: “Kill him, mummy, Kill him!”

Woman’s whisper: “Hush! I don’t want you to wake up everybody on the train!”

Through half-opened eyes, P slowly peeped at the family of three on the opposite berth, travelling in the same cubicle. The dim light was still turned on and he could discern the figure of the man slouching by the window, probably fast asleep.

The woman was now looming over the husband with her hand slightly raised as the tot stood by her side, anxiously whispering “Get him mummy, get him!”…

P was shocked to hear the child say those words… He couldn’t believe a child could be so evil!… But then he remembered the famous film, “Omen” and he shuddered.New Picture (19)

The woman was now leaning towards her husband and as her raised hand came down in a slap, P cringed and shut his eyes…

Child’s voice: “Did you kill him?”

Man’s voice: “What the…?”

Child’s voice: “Did he escape again?”

Woman’s voice: “Yes, Dennis. And stop calling the mosquito “him” and “he”. It is an “it”…

P breathed a sigh of relief…

The woman was trying to kill a mosquito… and not her husband!

Unless of course, by the term “mosquito”, she was alluding to her husband…

 

 

 

Be kind to humanity…

Cue the Violins: If your life were a movie, what would its soundtrack be like? What songs, instrumental pieces, and other sound effects would be featured on the official soundtrack album?- Daily Prompt

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New Picture (15)It’s a pain that the music that P plays,

On his violin on his most happy days,

Is a cacophony of howls and brays,

And if he sings along, the music frays

Your nerves, you pull your hair in a craze!

 

On sad days it’s like a banshee’s wail,

The noise drills your eardrums like a nail,

Chills in your spine will put malaria to the pale,

It makes the neighbourhood rail.

P even gets threats in his mail!

 

New Picture (14)In summer if you open your window,

To let in the breeze and some air flow,

A headache will soon hit your brow,

In the simmering heat like another blow,

As the violin practice proceeds, its intensity will grow.

 

In the monsoon, muffling the thunder and rain,

With off-key notes so loud, even earplugs are in vain;

P’s violin drives everybody insane;

Even the cat next door rolls in pain.

So folks, P’s music in your movie will be your bane!

 

If any one’s life were a movie

Please let the background music be

Anything other than what P

Plays on his violin, in gloom or glee.

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From Caterpillar to Butterfly…

Salad Days: Is there a period in your own personal life that you think of as the good old days? Tell us a story about those innocent and/or exciting times (or lack thereof).- Daily Prompt

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P was reminiscing on

His salad days gone by,

And how like a caterpillar

That morphed into a butterfly,

From a carefree and spritely tot,

He had now grown to a man.

 

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Those balmy days he didn’t have to worry

For food on his table, and he voraciously ate

The meat, eggs, potatoes, and anything sweet,

But he fretted about salads on his plate,

As he dreaded the thought to eat or meet

A caterpillar hiding in the greens… he shuddered at the fate!

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No good news…

Bad Signal

Someone’s left you a voicemail message, but all you can make out are the last words: “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you months ago. Bye.” Who is it from, and what is this about? – Daily Prompt

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Hearing just those words, threw him into a panic.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you months ago. Bye.”

Was all P could pick from the background static,

As he replayed his sister’s message, again and again.

 

Random thoughts through his spine sent a chill,

Had somebody beloved, passed away?

Was somebody beloved, terminally ill?

Or was it just he, who was in very deep trouble?  

 

He rang his sister who had just the other day,

Been for a visit and tidied up his home;

He was anxious to find what she had now to say,

He cringed as she told him what he needed to know.

 

“Oh! For months, I’ve meant to tell you,

 Do get rid of your old dressing gown!

It’s full of holes, go get something new;

And take to the Salvation Army in town,

The bag of old clothes, before they get mildew.”

 

For a deeper understanding of this post, please read my earlier one: https://avatarofmrbean.wordpress.com/2014/11/09/to-keep-the-change-or-not/ written in response to Daily Prompt – Let it Be.

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