A Coincidental Incident

One fine morning I got out of bed, in the process severing several of my capillaries, as they got in the way of the bedstead. After freshening up, I found, to my utter delight, that my parents had gone to attend the wedding party of a friend of my father’s who was getting married the eighth time. They left a note saying this, albeit with minor spelling and grammatical errors, but I understood nevertheless, and was so momentously overjoyed that started to gyrate spastically and pulsate sycophantically within the house premises, thereby scaring the old family dog to severe psychosis and mental derangement and unsettling a settee that was on its way to wreckage.

This done, I thought I would catch a quick movie in a theatre nearby, as they mentioned that they wouldn’t be back by noon. I quickly got ready, though I did try, I guess due to the consequence of the overwhelming exhilaration, to pull my hat onto my foot, mistaking it for a sock. Once I managed to get dressed, that is, got all the right garments in the right places, I set off on my bike. On the way, I ran over two men and a cat, and a small car drove over my left foot. But this was not enough to perturb me or dampen my soaring spirits, and I entered the theatre in good cheer, and without a ticket.

Inside the theatre, the discourteous usher made matching holes in my ears with his ticket-puncher for this, and then I sat down in one of the front-row seats, after shooing away two spiders and sweeping a dead fly off it.

The theater was relatively empty, except for a noticeably overlarge man, who sat at the very back, munching on some godforsaken you-know-what, and looked as if he was afflicted by severe pyromania, for every now and then he would take out his ramshackle cigarette lighter from his back pocket and try to set the hair of a particularly frail and helpless-looking lady sitting in front of him on fire, without her discerning, and also without success, as the lighter was busted.

The movie began with a particularly labyrinthine song-and-dance sequence. The dancers appeared to have hay-fever and were apparently going without medicine for days.

The scenes then abruptly changed to the jungles of Siberia, where rural Russian hunters, equipped with spears, had a shot at hunting Siberian lions. The hunters would incessantly fling their spears towards the lions, which would evade them, laugh aloud mockingly and disdainfully, and amble away. The hunters then proceeded to pick up their thrown spears, with a look of utter frustration and chagrin on their faces, as the secret that they in reality had colossal trouble to try to concoct two meaningful sentences about “My Day at the Amusement Park” had been divulged to all and sundry. They would then continue their attacks with renewed vehemence, though with a considerably more painful posterior. This continued for an hour or so, until, that is, the hunters began showing signs of being footsore, and the lions ran out of hearts.

The movie concluded with a song. It appeared that the unfortunate singer was lying out cold in bed, and sang in spurts due to pain caused either by acute appendicitis or chronic rheumatoid arthritis.

I rode back home. On the way back, one of the men I had run over during coming threw a particularly large piece of metamorphic rock at me, in the process fracturing my left shinbone.

What I saw when I returned home was enough for my aorta to congeal tragically into an ice-hockey puck. My parents were back home, and were looking sternly at me as if I had killed the gardener. But within two seconds, their expression, like one sees in a mime, was converted into one of humour. They told me that the wedding party, though a little short, was a grand success, as the bride and groom had failed to turn up. So they had decided to go to a movie instead, which was coincidentally the same movie that I had gone for, and in the same theatre. They had seen me come out, and had only reached home earlier by car.

This made me laugh out loud, thereby making our already mad dog chase me around in circles until I tripped on some carpet, and broke the fall with my teeth, which lay scattered all over.

How strange is life, and how full of coincidences, where what one hopes does not always happen. However, I don’t mean having to clean the chamberpots on Sundays, or having to go grocery-shopping when you’re in bad need of a Turkish Bath, but, all said and done, how strange is life, and how full of coincidences.