The Ladder

'Milan, go down and open the door. Baa has returned.'
'Milan!'
A hundred things wander in my mind. I will not go, it takes an effort. No, I will not go because I cannot.
I have to, though. I'll get a scold serving otherwise.
But I simply cannot. How can I? I have to get downstairs first...
(the ladder)
...I do not want to go downstairs. I hate it. I hate the ladder. Let mother think I did not hear her.
I scratch the wooden railing on my window aimlessly.
But mother knows I heard her. She's just in the other room. How can I not hear her?
I will make some noise. That way, she might think she was not heard. I will scratch this railing harder. No, I'll open this steel cupboard, its doors yawn loudly everytime I try to open it. Ok. Mom, I hope you're listening to this. You see, this noise is too loud, you might have been saying something, but it easily would have been drowned by this groaning door.
'Milan....E-Milannn!'
No, this is a stupid idea. What is there that can be done? Baa is outside, yes. He has to come in, and he does not want to be left there for a long time. But no, the ladder. The ladder, I can't. I simply can't. But Mom. She wants me to. And she knows. I am obligated now.
It's so complicated. Why don't they understand? It's because of the ladder. I can't go downstairs. But Baa will wring my ears later. There will always be later. It's inevitable. I have to go.
It's always like this. There are so many things I have to consider while doing anything. My face is getting hot and sweaty. I simply cannot tell anybody, because I will not be able to explain.
I'll just simply not go. I'll deal with the consequences later. Now is the problem, I wish I was in the past, or that this present has already happened.
Why can't she go herself? Why do I have to go every time? Why don't they realize my problem in going downstairs. Opening the door is not a problem. Getting downstairs is...
Footsteps approaching the room. The sound of the hasp being turned and squeaked. The crack as the doorflaps are unlocked. The creak of the opening flaps and an angry foot stepping across the threshold.
Ok, panic now. Panic Now! Run.
I shelf all my problems and leap through the narrow space between my mom and the right side of the doorway...
(a whiff of coriander. Tomato chutney for dinner)
Mumbling 'I am going, I am going ni...'
I bound down the narrow ladder to the groundfloor below, three rungs at a time. Rushing mind. The thing. The thing under the darkness of the ladder. I can nearly feel its cold grasp through the gaps between the rungs where the wooden boardings have come apart. Yes, it has been busy prying and tearing the boardings open. On my next step, it'll grab my left ankle. I don't know, it'll probably pull my whole body into its dark realm, and that is simply terrorizing. It does not make any sound- after all, it's just a shadow. I hate it, I hate it from my core. Why doesn't Mua realize this? Why can't she tend to a matter as simple as this?
My left ankle nearly missing the last rung and the leg bowing violently. The knee buckling crazily, but somewhat holding me in place, my left turning out like a bent ruler.
I then jump on my right foot onto the ground so fast my body didnt get a chance to put all its weight on my left leg.
(weepy relief)
(thundering heart)
Control slowly coming back to my mind, I reach the door handle...Baa. He's been there all the time, what will he think? Why I took so long a time to reach here, he won't understand...
I hurriedly open the door, straining my eyes beyond the towering figure of Baa towards the sunny sky and welcoming its rays to come inside and devour the thing under the ladder. I hardly register Baa ruffling my hair (his clothes as old as him and belonging to him like a second skin, and his unrelenting love showing through his creased face). My mind is soaked with the problem lurking in the depths of the dark. I hate uncle. I hate him for not listening to my plaintive cries for fixing the boardings, because it's getting stronger everyday and is feeding on my fear because why else do I feel its presence grow exponentially when I am uncertain and fearing, like a dog growling deeper once it senses the other entity beginning to cringe in fear and cower. Why won't uncle fix it, when it is eating on my heart. Pretty soon it'll be fearful enough to take his notice and then it might be too late and it might start to feed on his fear too who will save us then?
(alone)
I whirl around, and just in time see the last leg of Baa vanish into the first floor's landing...
Alone again, and now even worse- the thing is now awake and alert and it waits for me.
'Baaaa!!!'
Heart quailing and turning into butter, I cry and run up the rungs again, tears flying from my face like drops out of a squeezed lemon, my face and legs numb and heavy with fear. My little nape hairs rising and the skin on my arms and back crawling...
No. No. Gasp, no... the thing... the ladder thing...

You skinned my heart

A bone in your brain
Surge in your eyes
Fury in your tongue,
and a hairy tail.
What are you?
He asks.

Invoking an eye storm,
She begins reverently:
My tongue lashes in its will,
The bone steers my thoughts.
This orb here is my observatory,
And the tail doubles as a belt.

Cheque please, he thunders quietly,
You ditched me for caffeine.
You skinned my heart.
I'm hopping on to another boat.

You are my heart glove, she mists him.
I have not yet seen sunrise,
But I'll let you hold my tail when it's dark.
I can pacify your fist.

No difference, he hides his eyes
I'm hypnotic now, but wont be
Your words are effervescent
Palms warm now, sweaty later.

Turmoiled, He combs anxiety.
She stirs her brain and chews her tail.
Pulls her shoelaces. Tugs hiphairs.
Envelopes him in her Litchi eyes.

Inside the fluffy hurricane,
He is squeezed gently,
He belches out an affection.
And she vows to make him her caffeine.

He/She

He punches a code in his right kneecap,
And presses his belly button.
His right calf unzips open,
And three elastic balls dribble out.
Catching two with his hands
And the third with his mouth
He then turns to the girl.

Inserting the two inside her pockets,
And balancing the third on her nose ridge,
She vomits out a spoon,
And gently taps the ball with it.

The ball rolls upwards to the forehead.
Splits into two equal halves,
And begins spewing black spindles,
Which starts rooting into the skin
And become two bushy eyebrows.

Yuck, says he. I like the browless eye.
It's for me to decide, retorts she.
And besides, I also prefer a browless smile.
Huh? Asks he. What could that possibly mean.
The brow you have, jokes she,
Between your nose and your mouth.

Ahh, but this is a sign of virility, says he.
And besides, we shave them off if need be.

But that does not make any… she begins
But the balls in her jeans begin spewing spindles,
Tickling her and making her squirm laughingly.
And what in the name is that?
She says they are her bovine hiphairs.
Hiphairs I can comprehend, he says.
But why bovine? Then she says:
Well, they came out of your calf, didn't it?

Presently, he tugs at her hiphairs
Ouch, she squeals, why did you do that?
But before he can answer, her navel bulges out,
and she yelps laughingly in surprise.
Impossible, an eye! He says,
It's a digestive eye, she says,
It might come in handy during tummy aches

But logically, it should be something else
That reports. Not something that takes in stimuli.

Hmm, that's odd, she says, you're right.
So, she takes a deep breath, and keeps still
While the navel swallows the eye.
And as she violently breathes out,
He sees a belly button.

To Catch a Fly

As I spend my day trying to de-idle my brain, I think a lot of things. My rule is not to banish any thought, be it worthless or not. I come up with many important baseless discoveries that more often than never uplift the human race. Besides, I empathise with the harassees of the houseflies. The annoying wing-beat hummers can drive anyone wild. So in a gesture of compassion, I have decided to share this amazing housefly-catching technique. And I will not bore you with the anatomy of the housefly, so read on.

The Schnook
when a housefly lands on a surface, do not infect your brain with any of hatred, frustration, or pity. Assume a cold, calculating mode. Remind yourself that you are doing this just because you can. Alternatively, you can adopt the Matrix philosophy and chant on: 'There's no housefly.' However, I doubt that you'll look cool with that chant, because
1. you're not Neo
2. you dont have cool shades
3. Neo is too cool to be bothered by flies, and
4. There IS a housefly.
When you have calmed your mind, and that your intentions are not impured by your emotions, lower your cupped palm on the surface near the fly, although sufficiently far enough so that it does not realize that it is about to get Schnooked. You are now going to sweep across the surface, and jerk your palm fully closed just as you are about to touch the fly. Almost always, it will notice your movement, and will take a flight. Therefore, you should estimate the displaced position the fly will be in.

The Head-on Swoop
The most important point is that your sweeping movement should be such that it meets the fly head-on. (If you cannot see its head, chances are that you forgot to wear your lenses, that you're too far from the fly, or that what you thought was a fly was a forgotten raisin.) This counterdirectional strategy allows you higher chances of success because a fly typically takes a longer time flying backwards than forward. This is in conjunction with the recent finding at Pradhan Labs that a housefly takes a longer time to take off if it is attacked from the front.

You need to practice to perfect this sweep, and build the swiftness in your paw. Once you get the hang of it, it will be as easy as catching a fly.

After you do a clean swoop, you might feel the reassuring buzz of the fly in your fist. You might feel:
1. disgusted that you're touching it with your palm
2. A Suffocating curiosity of whether you really DID capture it, making you want to open your fist just a bit to peer in, and
3. proud that you have a god's creation at your mercy in your fist 4. Intense hatred at the vile creature.

At these trying times, you should still keep your actions methodical, because losing composure is just not cool, and doing so will most of the time lead to the fly's escape.

The Death Fling
Once you make your catch, you have two options, one of which is to just open your fist and let the fly fly. However, most of the time, my listeners opt to kill the fly.
The most painless, clean killing method is the Death Fling. With a violent jerk, fling the fly onto a hard surface, preferably the ground, as gravity contributes to the velocity of the fling. Do not put too much effort into it, lest you dislocate your shoulder, or that you make a messy splotch of the fly in the ground. With experience and practice, you will in no time do the fling with such optimal force that the fly meets death but it actually bounces off the ground rather than lays splat on the floor.

The Scarecrow Method
With a few dead houseflies, you can deter other flies from so much as entering your domicile. All you have to do is dip the carcass in glue,and stick it to a piece of thread. Once it dries off, tape the thread on the doorways and windoways from the outside, so that it scares off those flies who are attempting to break in. You might need to collect quite a few carcasses, since the most effective way is to hang about 5 flies on every door and window. If that does not do the trick, you can post a miniature message, saying something like "Beware! The Death Flinger dwells here". These are the vital steps that you can follow to enjoy a fly-free zone.