Monday, June 25, 2007

Afterword for local highways

It was a point at the end of a highway. Then it was converted to a yellow beetle and gradually gradually to a car with a kid on the back. The kid of our story waved his hand and I did so. Then Nima turned to left and his mom to right while both of us were looking at each other and enjoying the last moment of our friendship.

That kid in the yellow car faded in another highway and we in another one, but he helped me to write an afterword for my last post.

Sometimes we have to see certain people in our life and pass them. As soon as we pass them or maybe a while after, we will realize how important they were for us.

It happened to me with 180 kilometres per hour plus the speed of his mom’s car.

She came here for the first time and we had dinner with my parents. I took her hard drive to copy some music.

Double Whiskey and a couple of Margarita…My father treats girls much better than guys. When we had dinner my father asked:

“So, is she your mom, aunt, sister, or what?”

I have 3 moms, 5 aunts and 19 sisters. But Nima has one mom, one aunt and no sister. Thanks god that both of us have just one father.

“I’m just Ali’s friend; we know each other for 12 years”

We didn’t say anything more about that. Nima joined us and we enjoyed the rest of the night around the table.

She went to a highway to come back another day.

I really like my new T-shirt, but it will not help me if I really need to go to toilet.

I urgently needed one. My gut was like a Piton full of shit. I had no way except going to the posh restaurant nearby.

It was a queue on the entrance for getting served. But I didn’t want to be served. That’s why I passed all the people in the queue and went inside.

It was so intensive that I turned to the first door without looking to the sign. Instead of toilet it was manager’s room. She was in my age, I think.

When I saw her, I didn’t know what to say. She asked in a very polite way: “What can I do for you, sir”.

I wanted to say I am looking for the toilet but instead I farted loudly with a sticky smell.

It was 10 second silence and drops of sweat all over. I dived in the ocean of shame with my new T-short.

It took another 10 seconds for her to tell me:

“End of corridor, on the right”

I did exactly the same, but when I opened the door I just heard a massive girlish shout.

Apparently on that particular space-time coordinate, “on the right” meant “on my left” as far as shitting is concerned.

When I was serving their fancy toilet with a dish of Piton in tomato sauce, I was thinking how many internal and external highways we have to pass to realize how to forgive ourselves because of the silly things that we did in our life, either we were responsible or not.

I really like my new T-shirt although Nima said that I look like rubbish collectors working from midnight till morning in local highways.

1 comment:

daqui said...
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