The rickety old Corolla is trudging along on Ventura Blvd. M changes the saddest song of the only audio CD the Corolla boasts of.
M
What the Fuck, Dude.
I am sick of this song.
Gaurav changes the track back to the suicide inducing voice of a heart-broken, melodramatic queen.
Gaurav
(Inciting M)
I looove this song.
I intend to do PHD on it.
M this times switches a lot of tracks forward to get to a random song.
M
If I hear any more of it,
I will vomit on empty stomach.
The bass of the new track kicks in.
M
Not that this is any better...
Fuckin copied from a Persian song.
Gaurav
That's it! You said it!
I am sending this along with
the Persian song to Bob McQuaid.
M
No, you are not!
Gaurav is visibly excited now. One would presume, as a fellow classmate, he likes to see his mate getting screwed by the Prof.
Gaurav
Yes, I am sending it to him!
(Pause)
M shakes his head not believing how childish a 21-year-old can be.
Gaurav
...And telling him that Persians
copied their song from us!
The old Toyota shakes with roars of laughter.
1 comment:
brilliantly done brother... i almost lived the moment and therefore the mental trauma you must have been subjected to...
*applauds*
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