MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “funny”

Helping the economy is a saying that “men go shopping to get want they want; women go shopping to find out what they want”. In fact, females don’t have a very favourable reputation when it comes to shopping. Because put plainly, women can shop all the time, regardless of how much money they (don’t have) and they can never have enough of anything, especially shoes and clothes.

Men supposedly also have a special characteristic – that of being able to constrain themselves. But women…well, when they go shopping, it is very very easy to get carried away. And they more often than not do.

With the advent of online shopping, moreover, it has become all the more easier to get overexcited and buy more things that you need or sometimes can even afford.

Shopping for women has become a form of therapy; something men cannot understand. And this is where the gender differences become more apparent. Because it all comes down to the fact that women are excited to receive something new, even if they spend half their paycheck to get it. And despite visiting numerous stores in search of that perfect – affordable, if possible – item, they will always return to the one they saw first that may have a three-digit price tag, simply because it is a well-known fact that it is the first-view-first-click that will please you the most.

Yes, women are weird. Maybe a bit high-maintenance at times. And very often insane. But they are the ones that fill this world with sunshine. Because no man ever complained when the woman standing next to him looks glamorous wearing all the things she just spent her (or his) wage on

The biscuit thief was pint-sized and looked much younger than he really was. But that actually helped him because no one really took him for a thief.

Simon was a strange type of burglar. He would sneak into kitchens – be it of houses or of shops – and steal biscuits. Freshly-cooked-still-hot-deliciously-smelling-so-tasty cookies were his favourite.

He couldn’t help it. As soon as he sensed even the slightest smell of just-baked biscuits he had to go in. And he took a whole bunch of them with him. Simon had a sweet tooth. But he also had a compulsive urge to steal cookies. He didn’t eat them all at once. Some he even shared with other people – family, friends, even with people on the street.

In his neighbourhood, people began to search for the biscuit thief; then his activity spread throughout the city, and the news was even broadcast on TV.

But Simon was not obstructed. He continued unhindered, and un-caught. This was his thing. To find freshly made cookies and steal them to enjoy on his own time.

One day, however, he ran into the chef just at the time when he was sneaking out of a patisserie kitchen with a bag of biscuits in his hand. Both froze on the spot and stared at each other, the chef’s eyes rolling from Simon’s eyes to the bag in his hand.

“So you’re the infamous biscuit thief?” the chef finally said in a French accent.

Simon gulped. Could he go to jail for stealing biscuits?

The chef had a better proposition, though. He offered Simon the position of official biscuit-taster in the patisserie. Soon, the shop elevated to becoming the city’s best biscuit-maker and was renowned throughout the country.

Sometimes things do happen for a reason; and even if the initial reason is unclear, life has a strange way of working itself out.

A parrot in space upon a super moon, there was a young boy who dreamt of being an astronaut. No adult ever paid attention to his dream because it was considered a typical fantasy of any child. But the boy remained resolute and throughout his education worked towards achieving its realization.

Upon completing his studies as an honor student given his thirst and determination to succeed, he was lucky enough to be approached by NASA. And he soon found himself at the doorstep of his dream.

After years of training, as required by protocol, he was called to man the Agency’s mission to Mars. The first of its kind. But the young man did not want to go alone. So he was told he could be an exception and bring along a pet. The young man searched hard for who could accompany him to this long and arduous journey.

Be it fate, or a simple coincidence, when his old lady neighbor found out about his achievement she was so overjoyed that she gave him her pet parrot to take with him to space. His name was Peri. And he had recently lost his girl companion. “He could use some lifting up,” the old lady said.

The parrot had a strong yet elegant appearance. Green from head to toe, his feathers had strips of blue and his tail featured strings of red, yellow, orange and purple, making him as exotic as impressive to look at. At the sight of the young boy, the parrot jolted and yelled “Honey”, “Help!”. The boy panicked and turned to the old lady. She was looking at him calmly with a senile apathy that is common at that age. She smiled and told him not to worry. “Honey was the name of his girl companion. She became sick and we couldn’t get to her in time as it was vacation season and we were away often. That is why he still calls out help. He feels somewhat guilty for her demise”. She paused then said, “I think outer space would be good for him. A change of scenery always works to get your mind off things”. The boy decided to take the parrot.

Years passed before they landed on Mars. All the while, the parrot often screeched the only two words he knew and despotically refused to learn any more – different – words. Once on the red planet, the man suited up and dressed the parrot in a specially made suit too. He proposed the parrot be the first to step on the new planet. It would be an interesting twist, as well as acting as a safety net for the young astronaut. No one could predict what they would find out there. He pushed the parrot out the spacecraft door, but the winged animal would not budge. After a while, the man resigned the effort and extended his right leg to step outside. That is when a flutter was heard and the parrot skid past his head and made a leap onto the alien planet. His webbed feet were the first to make a footprint. The boy smiled and followed.

They weren’t to remain too long outside. Their mission was to collect a sample from the planet’s surface, take pictures and leave. The technology would do the rest. The boy told the parrot not to wander off too far. Three minutes later, he found the parrot mouthing his two words. But he was not alone.

A red creature, around the parrot’s size was standing right opposite it. It had the parrot’s features. A small head, long body, wing-like hands but four sturdy yet stick-like legs. The astronaut tried to approach but with every step forward he made, the alien parrotoid moved back. So he decided to remain in place and take pictures as evidence.  In an instant, though, just as suddenly as it appeared, the alien vanished. And the parrot voluntarily retreated into the spacecraft.

Back on earth, a very long journey later, the parrot was lauded as a hero, just as much as the young astronaut was praised for successfully achieving his mission. But as soon as he was reunited with his old lady owner, the parrot collapsed and passed away in her hands. He had already survived beyond his expected life span.

The young man reported on their Martian encounter, building up excitement and expectations before he revealed the photos. He hadn’t said anything so far. He wanted it to be a surprise when he landed home. But the photographs were not as expected. Peri the parrot was in all of them. The red parrotoid was in none.

As a result, no-one believed the young astronaut. And no matter what he said or how much he tried, there was no way of proving what he saw. He was the only one who would ever know what he and the first ever parrot in space experienced on a planet millions of light years away from ours.

Chasing Pokémon“Come on, we need to catch ‘em now!”  Mitch grabbed his phone and headed towards the door. His anxiety was evident as his hand transferred his tremor onto the open door. His wife did not share the agony.

She still hadn’t caught the two Pokémon hiding in the house.

But Mitch saw there were many more outside roaming the neighbourhood. It was obvious from the number of cars parked in the street and the hoard of dazed young people walking around like zombies searching for imaginary creatures that appeared randomly on their phones.

With every vibrate, you would hear a scream and then witness a leap forward.

They were all obviously seeing something that any person out of the Pokémon Go loop would not understand.

People had been caught Pokémon & driving, which was far worse than drunk driving because at least in the latter case the driver’s eyes were on the road, even if his/her mind wasn’t.

People had been falling over, bumping into trees, with each other, or even being hit by cars exactly because they were too busy being dragged around the routes depicted on their phone, rather than be aware of their actual surroundings.

But there were also those who found friends, even romance, through the Pokémon gatherings. Those who discovered excitement in this shared habit, no matter how addictive it got.

Mitch was still impatient. His wife had now slid under the bed and was desperately trying to throw a ball at a Pikachu sneering at her from the corner.

“Will you please hurry up?” Mitch called out.

Martha stepped in through the open door. She was about to apologise for being late because of the traffic that had gathered in the area. But when she saw what was going on with the owners of the house she was employed to maintain in order, her jaw dropped. The disorder was reminiscent of the impact of an earthquake. Even the couch – which she so dexterously vacuumed around – had been displaced.

“Will you finally go to work and stop chasing imaginary creatures, please?” she blurted out. That was just the moment the wife appeared triumphantly, waving her phone with a picture of a captured yellow creature on screen.

Martha sighed.

That was when Mitch’s father showed up at the doorstep and said “where can I plug in my phone, there is one little bugger that’s about to get away?”


Also part of Daily Prompt: Carefree

An act outside the circus could feel the tension with every tic of the second hand on the clock. It was almost seven in the morning and the sun was already up for almost an hour now. So were a few hundred customers ready to leap like hungry jaguars into the store.

It was the annual big clearance sale. One like no other. Because prices were literally slashed to half-price or even less. Everything was a bargain. As long as you were lucky enough to find anything before anyone else snatched it.

Almost everyone was prepared. They had done their research well in advance, noting down what they were after and on what aisle or corner the desired products were located. This was no time to stroll, see and decide. You either knew and decisively went for it, or you got trampled over. Sometimes – well, most times – you got trampled over either way.

As soon as the clock struck seven, it sounded as if church bells were singing hallelujah. The store employees neared the locked doors, and you could almost see the fear reflected in their eyes. It was not an easy job having to open gates to an ecstatic mob that was determined to not let anyone or anything stand in their way. It was certain that they had no way of escaping the crowd once the doors were opened. The only thing they could do was stand petrified right there on the spot, hoping that as few injuries as possible would be incurred upon them.

It was like a stampede.

And soon, all the orderly placed items had been flung around, displaced, ravaged out of their packaging, some even damaged already, now laying ripped or broken on the floor. Labels and tags were torn from their original products and if you didn’t know exactly what you were looking for, there was no way you would find it.

Security guards marched like wardens up and down the aisles, trying in vain to restore order in what had clearly become a jungle. “Lady, please don’t take the products out of their packaging or try them on”. The phrase was repeated like a pre-recorded message. But just like such ads, it was completely ignored. “Lady, what did I just say? Who am I saying these things too anyway?” The security guards felt like teachers in a kindergarten of rowdy children, their despair echoed in the sound of their exasperated sighs. “I’m almost done,” the lady in question barked back. Done with what exactly, no one knew. But she continued to do precisely that which the security guard had grown tired of voicing.

The store employees who had gone to open the doors, were now finally freed, and most were still standing. They turned around and saw a circus. The store had in the blink of an eye transformed into a huge ring, where in the absence of a ringmaster, all animals had broken loose and were frantically trying to defuse the tension that had accumulated for hours inside of them. Items were being thrown around, with some shoppers acrobatically leaping and sliding across other persons to grab hold of them. People were pushing, shoving, pinching, beating, hair-pulling, even bruising each other, simply to get closer to their listed items. Insanity had taken over and blinded these buyers, who like in a trance could see nothing beyond their golden target. The frenzy was intensified by shrieks, cries and insults being tossed around just as easily and loudly as the items that accompanied them.

It took five hours for the performance to wear out. Some shoppers remained there for the entire time. Others had retrieved their treasure and left. But those few who had persisted right until closing time guarded their loot and searched for more, like lions wanting to relieve an insatiable hunger.

The employee who went to lock the door after the final customer left had a ripped sleeve dangling on his left side. His shirt was torn under his right pocket and he had lost two buttons.

“We’re not paid enough for this,” he sighed as he turned the key, glad that this circus act was over.


Also part of Daily Prompt: Circus

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The message was read. She knew it because there was that often inconvenient announcement at the bottom that informed you of when it was delivered and/or read. It was the source of all evil. Because if you didn’t know, you weren’t (so) concerned of why the recipient would not reply. But now that you knew, something was constantly bugging you all day. An entire conspiracy theory.

But what had truly happened was something that would never have even crossed her mind.

Jake woke up startled that morning, as the thunder alerted him that it would be a long and stormy day. He got up, still half-asleep, washed, dressed, ate breakfast as if on auto-pilot and joined the tens of other drivers going to work. But the slippery roads made everything more dangerous. And how was he to predict that the truck full of milk heading to a protest rally in front of him would break down, spilling liters of milk into the street and moreover, accidentally dropping an entire container full of milk onto his front car hood? He was stuck on the motorway for three hours until adequate assistance arrived.

That is when he saw her message.

“Goodmorning! Hope you are well! Have a lovely day!” It beamed full of sunshine. All that was precisely lacking from his day.

He was too agitated to respond at that moment, so he closed the app and put the phone away.

When he finally arrived at work, his desk was already piled with to-do notes and messages from phone calls he had to return. He even skipped lunch that day and managed to leave the office even after the cleaner. It was almost midnight.

He arrived home exhausted, fell on the coach and dropped into deep sleep.

Georgia on the other hand was steaming. It had been all day and he had not replied. A million scenarios had gone through her head. The things women make up and drive themselves crazy for a reason men do not and can not understand. Women can not understand it either, but they still do it anyhow.

She promised herself she would not send anything else or call him. She might even ignore his future texts and calls too.

The next morning when Jake awoke, the first thing that came to mind was that bright message he had forgotten to respond to the previous day.

You are my ray of sunshine. I’ve had a terrible day yesterday and would love to see you soon,” he texted.

Georgia huffed when she heard the text alert. She was both curious and excited at the same time. But the minute she read it, she couldn’t help but smile. She was about to respond, when he called. She couldn’t hold a grudge. Not after that. She just wished he could have simply texted two words the previous day. Indeed how much agitation we would all avoid if people simply sent a reply to even the basic of messages.

(Not) Another regular Friday name was Henrietta. It was a straightforward name, albeit a bit irregular for a female. You would think it was easy to remember, and not to be confused. But today when she went two hours in advance of the opening time to pick up the concert tickets for the next day, which she had booked four months earlier, the lady in charge told her she could not find her name on the list. There was a Henry, though, with the same surname, for (weirdly enough) the same tickets. It took 45 minutes to prove she was the Henry, although, the Henry was in fact a Henrietta, who was her.

By the time she returned home, people were already flooding the cafés for their afternoon coffees. She decided to chop some vegetables in order to make a quick salad with some baked beans she was about to boil. Quick, easy, and healthy, she thought. But, alas, her new knives would prove their worth. She nearly chopped off her left index finger together with a slice of tomato. A crimson stream began to flow from that little finger, soon turning five napkins from white to red and refusing to stop. Henrietta rushed to the pharmacy for some first aid. She would have to pay attention to the entire hand now, as the wound was deep and required time to heal.

By the time she was back, the beans were not baked, but burnt. And now she had a black pot to scrub with one hand.

This is when she realized how many things come to us so automatically every day, that we hardly pay any attention to them. For example, how much work that single finger does. How vital it is for the entire hand to function. She noticed how hard it was to do the slightest of things – from getting dressed to washing your hair, to putting on contact lenses – all with one hand.

As the sun set, and calm returned to Henrietta’s apartment, which now smelled of burnt food – she sought solace with Duchess, her fluffy, white Persian cat. But, as her name implied, the feline could not care less for her mistress. So as Henrietta compromised with online videos of cats asking to be cuddled, the power suddenly went out.

For one and a half hours, she sat in the dark in a burnt-smelling home with a bleeding finger and an inconsiderate pet. She was all too happy to go to bed and end this adventurous Friday. It was not so TGIF (Thank God It’s Friday), after all.


N.B. Based on a true story.

Non-stop action may cause unexpected reactions

35111-Clipart-Illustration-Of-A-Hyper-Fly-Dancing-In-Rings-Of-FireHyperactivity is neither a blessing nor a curse. Because, while there are days when you feel so lazy you can’t even drag yourself out of bed or off the coach, there are other days when you simply cannot stay still. I don’t know what is worse.

When Julie got up this morning she beat her alarm clock to the buzz. Of course, the thump she made when she dropped out of bed was much more painful than any sound any clock could make. Her morning cleansing – makeup – dressup ritual lasted the usual 25 minutes, and then she set off for all the errands she had to do. Her list was extra-long this day and every time she found herself on the commute, she somehow managed to keep extending it.

So Julie spent the entire day running around from one part of the city to the next (making her realise how big this city truly is), up and down office buildings, in and out of shops (there is always something to buy), and constantly craving certain food that she had no time to sit down and enjoy (sushi and ice cream being among these).

At the end of the day, when the sun had already began its descend, Julie arrived home with her feet already developing blisters, and feeling that she had carried a hundred tonnes on her shoulders all day. A warm shower simply worsened the situation as she kept thinking of all the things she still had to do the next day and the day after that. Messages kept arriving that further extended her list and the hyperactivity would appear to never cease.

The only thing that rescued her was a remedy that seemed to work since her college years: a glass of milk (not necessarily warm). Within half an hour, Julie was already drifting asleep, dozing off in a stress-free dream, suddenly making everything seem like an action movie where the good guys always win, and all was well with the world.

Also part of Daily Prompt: No Cliffhangers

Helping out a friend with a guest post

guest-post-blog-dream-creativity-love-joy-tantra-gift-economy1It’s always great to help out a friend. Especially one you share a blogging passion with. Jackie asked me to write a guest post for her wonderful blog. And of course I accepted.

So head over here to find out exactly how weird writers and translators are, especially when they are mentally grappling alone with the multitude of works that are muddled up in their heads.

Thanks Jackie!

The Curse

flirty coupleWhen Lorenzo was a young boy, wild at heart, he met a girl on the train on his way back home from a weekend in the country. In his early twenties then, he loved to flirt and was a true heartbreaker. All during the train ride, they exchanged meaningful glances with the girl, discussed what they were doing and where they were from, shared their views about how they hoped their lives would be, and laughed a lot. By the time they arrived at the station, they both agreed it would be great to see each other again. The girl told him she was studying in a near-by town and he should call her so that they could arrange to meet up again soon. He carefully inserted her number in his phone and hit save.

Lorenzo lived twenty minutes by car away from the station. He took a taxi to get there and arrived half an hour later due to heavy traffic. What he didn’t notice until later that night, however, was that he had dropped his phone in the taxi. He had lost his device and everything on it, including that girl’s number.

What he never realized until years later is that this incident would haunt his very existence.

Since then, every time he made plans to visit that particular near-by town – which was coincidentally one of the country’s main attractions due to its architectural elegance and natural beauty – he would end up fighting with his current girlfriend, or having something extraordinary coming up work-wise, resulting in him never getting there. Eventually, he gave up even trying. He simply settled with the fact that it was just not his destiny to visit that town.

Little did he know that the girl on the train had been very upset that Lorenzo never called her – she had really liked him, and as every love-struck young girl, had already began dreaming of a relationship with him. So, she cursed him into never being able to set foot in her town. If he didn’t go there for her, he shouldn’t go there at all, she thought.

The power of a heart in love is immense, but the force of a broken heart knows no limits.

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