My office starts at nine in the morning. Being the most punctual guy in the world, I leave at nine. Miraculously, my sister also leaves at nine for her ACCA internship crap at Forde Rhodes or Foot Rhodes or Food Courts, whichever way it’s spelled. [Don't blame me, there are at least a quarter of a million words in English, they could've picked up any uncommon ones and formed a name. But they had to act all childish and invent a crappy one.]
According to her, she has to reach at nine-thirty or her manager manages to become a volcano (I wanted to use the word mango here but I had to compromise for the sake of comprehensibility, not everyone’s as smart as me. And if you didn’t get this one, comprehensibility is not a word as far as Dictionary.com knows). For the past week, she kept my ass on fire and started becoming a wailing alarm clock everyday as soon as the minute hand got within 60 degrees of nine o’ clock. And the magnitude of the continuous wailing was always alarmingly proportional to the increasing attraction of the minute hand to the number ‘12′.
Ali, niklo bathroom se, main chhor ke chali jaoon gi!
So I had to bear the pain of getting ready by nine everyday. Yes, this is the reason for me being the most punctual guy in the world. I mean, come on! I need time to get ready for office. And I’m always sleepy in the morning. (Well you can blame my sleeping hours everyday which are usually < =5).
On Saturday, I had to listen to her screaming and it became even more bearable when my parents and grandfather decided to contribute some. I’m seriously going to kill this manager dude someday!
Now on Monday, I decided I had seen enough wailing and got ready before nine. Proud of my acheivement, I came to the dining table only to find that my stupid sister was not ready yet. She was calmly going around, getting “ready” which is essentially wearing extremely stupid clothes with some extra-stupid make-up, and thopafying herself with so much perfume that my eyes roll back in my head from the excruciating pain in my nose!
And then I was like, “What the hell! Isn’t the manager going to lose it today?”
And she kept on thoping make-up. I was pissed! We left the house a good fifteen minutes after that.
My office is near CAMS P.E.C.H.S., not on the main road. The route we take is from Guru Mandir to Shahrah-e-Quaideen, where I get dropped off and the driver takes my sister away. Whenever she gets late, I have to get off on the main road and walk the rest of the way.
Now my anger reached it’s peak when after getting me late, she asked me to get off on the main road because SHE WAS LATE. Can you believe this?
Ain’t no way I was getting off on the main road! Hell NO!!!
I punished her by taking the car all the way to my office. It was her own fault. And apparently, dressing up for office was very important and worth getting it from the manager.
Then what’s wrong with me taking my time to get ready?
Yeh kya baat hui?
Tum karo to chamatkaar, hum karein to balaatkaar?
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