‘Bella Terrace’s mother Bella Terrace Sr. is my younger sister.’ It’s what he said next flummoxed Shampoo. ‘That makes Bella Terrace my niece.’ It was now that the penny dropped. Shampoo realized the Colonel, General of the obvious, Field Marshall of the extra unnecessary information, and Great Dictator of ‘Boring Conversationville’ was actually only talking aloud to himself. Shampoo and everything else was quite redundant. Shampoo might as well as really have been furniture.
‘Look, my niece and my sister own around 15 percent of stock in one of my companies. The company is called Raison d’etre as they export raisins to Cuppe. Last week, I heard they plan to off load most of their shares. In a couple of weeks, I’m getting a law passed that will tax the export of perishable goods by up to 50 percent. The share price of Raison d’etre will crash, and we’ll have the two Bellas arrested for sort of insider trading and leaking privileged information. One by one we’ll knock off Huskee’s cronies, and then we’ll eliminate that parasite Paul Huskee as well.’
Shampoo reacted to this diatribe in the appropriate way. He screamed, but that may have had something to do with his thighs being squeezed now with Col. Jagee’s massive hands. The leader of Gyaandostaan, naked save for socks, didn’t hear any scream of course. We have long since established that to him Shampoo was simply an extension of his furniture. Furniture, mind you, that he could trust, and occasionally squeeze. Keep in mind, dear reader, that in actuality Col. Jagee was not a very sexual person. His ambiguity will be explained in great detail in Book 3 of this series which, thank God, won’t be out till 2027.
Ray Chow had no idea that he was walking down corridor 3 Junction Street in Bey’s downtown area with Mr D’Souza. Mr D’Souza was of course sprouting forth in his incomprehensible style. Chow, as usual, pretended to understand by nodding wisely every 5½ seconds. Chow should have seen it coming, considering he had twice banged into a street light, while focusing on not listening to D’Souza. To be fair, as they crossed the road, D’Souza did warn him. Let’s replay the conversation. First from D’Souza’s perspective:
D: ‘Watch out!’
R: ‘You shut your mouth. Ooooh...arghh...’
Now let’s look at it from Ray chow’s perspective:
D: ‘Shut your mouth.’
R: ‘You shut your mouth. Ooohh...arghh...’
The good news was that the car he saw approaching was a Plymouth, sky blue in colour, with a lovely velvety engine sound. The bad news was that it was the last thing Ray Chow saw as he landed on the Plymouth’s dashboard. Mr D’Souza meanwhile had stepped back on to the pavement, so he got a good view of the driver. It appeared to be a ferret. But D’Souza remembered that ferrets were not indigenous to Gyaandostaan. Besides, no ferret in his living memory could drive, let alone drive a beastly Plymouth with a stick shaft. If it wasn’t a ferret, it had to be Col. Jagee’s right hand man who looked and behaved like a ferret. That evil ferret-like face that did all of Col. Jagees’ dirty work. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced. Yup definitely! It must have been a ferret.
Ray Chow rolled off the car as the ferret hit the breaks and fell on the floor in front. Meanwhile, the ferret hit the accelerator (as ferrets often do in such situations, and as happened several times in this book, so it can clearly be no accident), the car rolled over Ray Chow, leaving him looking a lot less ‘Rayish’, and a lot more ‘Chowish’.
Meanwhile, Mr Ferret raced on, but as he looked back to survey his handiwork, he crashed his plush Plymouth into a pole at the edge of the sidewalk. The impact flung him out of his car, on to the sidewalk, and he landed head first, four inches away from Mr D’Souza’s feet. After getting a close look at Gulu, D’Souza was certain of his identity. He had been right all along, it was a ferret.
Moonshine was a strange name for a hospital. But since the Huskee family owned a majority share in the hospital, they named it after Sophia Huskee’s favourite fragrance, ‘Moonshine’. And although, generally speaking, the world over hospitals aren’t named after perfumes, it wasn’t entirely illegal. On the 7th floor of Moonshine hospital was the casualty department. The first four floors had been given to a mall, so casualty was a little further up than necessary. However no one really cribbed, because if you insist on checking in to a hospital called ‘Moonshine’, you must be prepared for any and every eventuality.
Room 707 had Ray Chow. Well, most parts of him. Room no. 708 had Gulu. Well, most parts of him!
When Paul Huskee entered room 707, he was shocked, not at Ray Chow’s condition, but because the air conditioner hadn’t been turned on. This had to be Mr D’Souza’s fault as he was famous for turning off air conditioners. Without even enquiring about Chow, Paul snapped at D’Souza.
P: ‘Turn the damn air con on!’
D: ‘Your father’s old.’
P: ‘Just turn it on.’
D: ‘I’m wearing pants.’
This as you can guess was Paul’s understanding of it. Let’s now get a hand on D’souza’s version.
P: ‘Turn the damn air con on.’
D: ‘I’m rather cold.’
P: ‘Just turn it on.’
D: ‘I really er...can’t.’
With this, Paul, realizing that he was dealing with a frail old man with health issues, decided to take the sensitive road. So he threw D’Souza out of the room, and asked him to wait in the freezing cold lobby outside.
But D’Souza needn’t have worried, if anything went wrong, room 709 was vacant.
Now let’s cut across to room 708. When Col. Jagee and entourage entered, they were greeted by a strange sight!
Gulu’s injuries were so peculiar that he was in almost a full-body traction, but that wasn’t the pleasant part. That was of course the fact that he was in a rigid locked position of a man looking for a penny under a dining table (which was odd as pennies weren’t indigenous to GYAANDOSTAAN). His body was face down, his buttocks elevated, as four massive pillows were under his groin. Both arms were in traction and were elevated, to make him look like he was permanently waving. His neck was in a brace and his head had a round cartilage like thing over it. This made him look like a gigantic praying mantis, which was also an impossibility as praying mantis and other praying mantis (the plural is very controversial) were not native to Gyaandostaan either. Shampoo, who accompanied Col. Jagee along with four bodyguards, was appalled.
It was Shampoo who asked the doctor if Gulu could talk. The doctor replied, ‘Of course he can, but he’d faint immediately if he tried.’ Then the good doctor showed them x-rays of a praying mantis in various poses. Col. Jagee tried to show interest, but after his third loud yawn, the x-rays were put away. Let’s cross back to room 707 where the air conditioner was finally taking effect.
Ray Chow’s injuries weren’t that bad. If Gulu scored a 77 percent on 100 for injuries occured, Ray’s would be a lowly 45 percent. In fact, his were mainly to his right hip and knee, which meant in non-political terms that, Ray would be leaning to the left for the next few weeks.
Ray and Paul spent the next few minutes chitchatting. Paul did more of the chatting, Ray satisfied himself by simply breathing. Suddenly the door was flung open, and a dramatic, over rehearsed shampoo entered. One look at the still figure of Ray and Shampoo broke down. He flung himself on Ray’s body and bawled away. Shampoo cried about love, the death of goodness, how he wanted to go cycling with Ray, and how Ray once borrowed a pair of his gym shorts and never returned it. He swore he’d turn Ray’s house up and down till he found the pair. It was a navy blue one with hundreds of Dalmatian puppies running across it. A last memory, a last testament to his chum Ray Chow.
Now to the actual authenticity of the attraction to Ray Chow, nothing can be ascertained as no documented footage exists of either of them wearing the Navy blue shorts with Dalmatians on it, in the other’s presence. At this point, using all his reserve strength, the now left handed Ray Chow pushed Shampoo out off his chest and onto the cold hospital floor. Soon Shampo
o was administered a pain killer and he quickly spilled the beanson how Col. Jagee planned to get to Paul by knocking off his man Fridays, starting with Bella Terrace and her mom, who would be better classified as woman Friday, to be sure, but he hoped they got the point. He then rushed out and back to Col. Jagee, as a 37-minute toilet break at 3 in the afternoon would be tough to explain. Then once more the door opened and after a final inquiry into his gym shorts (the Navy blue ones dotted with Dalmatian puppies) and satisfied that they would be well looked after, and not neglected, but most probably because the pressure of Paul’s hand around his neck was quite great, once more Shampoo imperiously executed a scorching exit.
I think, dear reader, we are at a point when our plot will finally unravel and that too in a deep dramatic fashion. Going by the sample segment test results, I can safely predict that exactly two pages from now, you will put up your hand and say, okay the story really starts from here, and wasn’t it worth the wait.
Col. Jagee was absolutely gobsmacked. After easily getting the export tax on perishable goods raised by 50 percent, he sent men from the tax department, often called taxmen, to check into the two Bella’s financial dealings. They returned with three cups of tea and a summons against the president, Col. Jagee.
Apparently, not only had they not off loaded Raison d’etre shares, but in fact they bought 8 percent more equity on the day the new tax law was passed, ostensibly on the advice of their much loved relative, the reigning king of Gyanndostaan, Col. Jagee. Having filed a counter complaint case of being misled and misguided financially, the court moved to stop Bella Terrace’s senior’s bellowing male baritone, accepted the complaint, and a summon was issued on what used to be the most powerful figure in the land.
Gobsmacked he was. After throwing out all his aides, barring Shampoo, Col. Jagee did what he always did when anxious—he removed his clothes, save for his socks, and insisted on talking to Shampoo.
CJ: ‘You think someone informed them? But only you and Gulu knew about the plan.’
Then Col. Jagee froze as the realization dawned. He stared hard at Shampoo, got up to his full height, put both hands around Shampoo’s shoulders, squeezed tight, and then said, ‘Gulu, that traitor, he must have passed on the information to Ray Chow. That’s when they had the accident, I should have remembered the famous saying, “Never trust a ferret”. It had to be him, in fact the last couple of times I asked him to have lunch with us he declined. Imagine being betrayed by a man who has seen me naked for the last 23 years, sometimes exclusively.’
At this Shampoo winced a little. To be honest he let out a cry, a small ‘oooo’, the one you’d make if you put icy cold water on, instead while expecting the hot. This had happened several times to Shampoo in the past, so he had perfected the ‘oooo’ sound. Basically his lips paused and the sound emerged for a full three seconds, after which he’d sneeze and clap his hands over his head.
Shampoo didn’t want to drown the man. So he was most surprised when his own mouth without prior permission said:
S: ‘Col. Jagee you’re spot on. It has to be Gulu. I myself have been noticing his strange behaviour over the last few days.’
CJ: ‘Yes, like missing lunch, right?
S: Oh, lots of other stuff too, like using the toilet seven times a day, rubbing his back against a pillar in public, and last Tuesday I saw him put oil in the hair.’
CJ: ‘Oil in the hair? Yes, that’s really peculiar. Who does that anymore?’ (The Col. said this while covering the two oil bottles on his desk with his left palm. )
S: ‘And it wasn’t even his own hair.’
CJ: ‘Then whose was it?’
S: ‘It was yours, Sir.’
CJ: ‘Yes, you are right. What a fool I’ve been. Oil in the hair, scratching his back, missing his lunch, peeing too much—they all are signs of a devious mind. What a scoundrel!’
S: ‘As devious as a ferret, Col. Jagee.’
The Gyaandostaani’s had a word for a traitor and it was ‘traitor’. Just like the English word for traitor, it was in the singular. Their plural for traitor was to say traitor many times and point to all the accused simultaneously. Just to be sure, Col. Jagee ruffled his hair. It felt wet. But was it oil or water? He couldn’t remember!
9
Col. Jagee had had quite enough. He asked Shampoo to call in crack political analysts. The SWIM brothers were called in. The SWIM brothers were the best known political analysts of Gyaandostaan. They were so good at what they did that other countries such as the US, Finland, Slovakia, Namibia, and India had all used them. And barring India, they had a very high and accurate success rate. In the US, they were felicitated in the White House. Although a diplomatic incident broke on their way out, where they were finally allowed to keep the ashtrays but had to return the chandeliers, and the brass door handles.
In Finland, they were given the Order of Merit and free cell phones. Though, once again, there was controversy. However, the grandmother of the current home minister decided to drop the charges in the end. In Namibia, they were allowed to keep the bull they stole, although the national carrier finally put its foot down when they requested the Bovine be allowed on board as hand baggage.
India was another cup of chai though. Here they got the prediction wrong, as one political ally switched sides at the last minute, causing an upheaval or a reversed result at the very last moment. The SWIM brothers who just wrote the acceptance speech for the leader of the main party were arrested promptly, and the party who hired them refused to clear their dues or bail them out as they were still in the process of bailing themselves out.
Finally, it was the ambassador from Slovakia who pleaded their case and got them back to Gyaandostaan. However, this came at a price—the bull, the ashtray, the cell phones, and their various club memberships were appropriated by the new Indian Govt.
A couple of months later, the new government fell and the one that hired them came back to power. Mysteriously, it was the party which lost power that now turned to the SWIM brothers. They promised to return the bull and the ashtray. But the deal fell through because all the cell phones were missing.
When they entered the room, the SWIM brothers made quite an impression. They always wore purple suits, with maroon shirts and yellow ties. Sometimes they wore pants as well. They carried cigars in their hands, but strangely never lit them. Every five minutes exactly, they’d exchange the cigars with one another.
They both had high pitched voices, but it became exceedingly clear that they were well matched. This was due to a unique gift. A gift they had which was unmatched on mother earth. They always, always spoke simultaneously.
When the SWIM brothers entered Col. Jagee’s office, they were greeted by Shampoo, standing over a sleeping Col. Jagee. The Col. was lying face down on his desk, whilst Shampoo was oiling his back and giving him a massage.
As Col. Jagee started speaking, his head remained face down in the desk. He spoke for a few minutes on different things, the need of the hour, the right response, the unblemished record. Whether tweasers could remove fleas from humans? Then he asked them if they’d join his team, and as he did so, he looked up. He was a little threatened to see that the SWIM bros had removed all clothing and were now sitting next to Shampoo, in an apparent attempt to await their turn for a massage by Shampoo, the little fellow. Col. Jagee loved the idea, and flinging the towel off him, he jumped up and joined them around the settee.
When they entered the room, the SWIM brothers made quite an impression. They carried cigars in their hands, but strangely never lit them.
There, in the President of Gyaandostaan’s private office, on a clean black settee, the SWIM brothers and Col. Jagee discussed his political road ahead, and they did so absolutely in the nude. Though it must be said at the threat of causing unrest that the SWIM brothers had their cigars on them all the time.
The SWIM brothers had done their homework. Although this was a habit they inculcated in school, it was one they never slackened over
the years.
They made a 10-point improvement proposal which they presented in a charming audio visual. Now since books are prehistoric forms of communication, I can’t share the audio visual in all its specific finery here, but I’ll try and recreate as much as I can, and retain as much as I can of the original so as to maintain the impact.
Slide - shows a quick fluid look at the evolution of man. First the preneanderthal, then the homosomething or another, then Col. Jagee, then Paul Huskee, and after a black cut out morphed version of col. Jagee and the preneanderthal man. Slide 1’s voice over says: As man evolved, he reached his zenith in the form of Col. Jagee. Then this man (Paul Huskee) appeared, and Col. Jagee was reduced to this (final slide of resplendent Jagee/ preneandethal). As long as Paul Huskee is around, Col. Jagee will always look like a retarded species, a relic of the past, a forgotten specimen.
Slide - shows a bunch of bikini clad women running on the beach. VO: This slide has no significance, it’s just for visual relief.
Slide - children are throwing stones and laughing at something. The camera pulls out and it’s a picture of Col. Jagee. VO: Power and ridicule go hand in hand. Lose a little power, gain a little ridicule.
Slide - picture of two hand models. VO: This slide is for recreational purposes only. Hand models available for parties, functions, ad shoots etc. CALL 777 FUN WITH FINGERS, NOW.
Slide - shows two Gorrilas (silver backs) in the active art of mating. The action is intense. Suddenly both see something that disgusts them. They cover their eyes, break away from the act, and run helter skelter in a horrific terrified manner.
The object of their fear? The camera pulls wide to show a statue of Col. Jagee, right there in the jungle. VO: Public approval can wane fast. Then all markets desert you.
Slide - has a man/woman dressed as Col. Jagee. But in rags and the man/woman is crying. VO: When the pressure is on, wrong choices are made. Form can be fickle and you get bent out of shape.
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