Need I say more?
Ok, for all those who are laughing their guts out, like those old ladies in the park were, laugh, laugh. Just remember, what goes around, comes around. Big time. Not that I'd wish such an evil thing on frail old ladies. I am glad I provided them their entertainment for the day.
Hua yeh, ki I went to the park near my place, my usual adda for thinking/dreaming/reading/walking. And starting today, for running for my life. I've been quite engrossed in the book I'm reading these days. "The Beach" (Alex Garland) - awesome book, by the way, but I'll save the review for when I'm less traumatised.
So, this book is superbly written. It makes one live through the adventures of a bunch of stoned people on a secret island in the middle of nowhere, Thailand. And if you've an imagination as vivid as mine, you can easily transpose yourself into the shoes of the author, one of the main characters. Lying down on the park bench, I was going through this almost surreal danger-to-my-life feeling, as I was reading the part where the author has a near death experience, swimming and thrashing his way back into life. Pretty intense. I shut the book, get up from the bench and begin walking around, reliving the scenes in my head. Suddenly, I wanted to be a hippie on a secret beach, doing all kinds of undercover stuff. It's always been one of my fantasies anyways, to be a part of some secret underground organisation..ah .I digress...well, blame it on the trauma.
So I'm walking, totally transported into this fantasy world, when I see two ducks around a bush. I think "oh, pretty ducks" and go on, thinking about Richard, how he saved himself from the jaws of death, his struggles, and how risky this whole thing was. Suddenly, I find one of the ducks following me. I start walking faster. I can see this huge duck conspiracy building up against me. The duck starts waddling, faster, keeping up with me. I panic. I start jogging. The duck starts its equivalent of jogging. I freak out. All I can think of is Richard, and how he didn't give up when he was almost dead, and fought back for his life with every shred of strength left in him. I scream at the duck to leave me alone, but he won't give up. I run and take refuge on top of a table. The duck jumps onto the bench, and flies up onto the table and pecks at me. SH!@# this duck means serious business, I think. I leap off the table, and see those ladies laughing at me , at a distance. They're all a part of the plan, I think. I run , run , run, choosing the path uphill, knowing that the fat duck won't be able to keep up. Stupid fat duck. I sprint away, reach my car, get into it, panting, and lock myself in.
I need to get into shape.
P.S: and I forgot to say so in my post, but one of the characters (and a really dark one at that) in the book is called Mr. Duck! Those of you that saw the movie would know