The quiz that became the talk of the entire global
bugger blogger community was:
What one word makes a man lose his hair, sleep, mental peace, potency and money?
Notice how painstakingly and surgically the quiz was created. It says ‘word’, not a ‘person’, ‘thing’, ‘event’, etc. In the sense that it is a word as used in speech or language.
But, first, a short story. It was a splendid evening at the club. Dark, cool and rainy. I was stuck, standing under a shamiana/awning, surrounded by dense sheets of rain. I was just trying to go out to my car when the downpour started. I was dressed in skin-fitting gym shirt and shorts, with plenty of rippling muscle fibers on display. It so happened that the same Guy, resident somewhere north of Mars and its ice-breaking satellite, who manufactures and gives away rain water as an open source venture, had also decided to send forth to me a pretty young lady, who also was in similar attire. Except that in her case, what was bristling was not muscle, nor moustache, of which she was singularly deprived, but designer-class deposits of fat and glandular tissue over the pectoral muscles.
Now you might wonder what is it with me that these women keep bumping themselves into me, as those who regularly read this blog know. All celestially created. In scientific terms, they say it is the fifth law of thermodynamics: ‘Whenever you are hot and alone, there will come a hot and comely lass’. I should not forget to mention the sixth law, which goes, ‘Whenever hot lad and comely lass get together, the excess heat given off attracts the wife or mother-in-law, leading to a condition known as absolute zero’.
Digression over. Back at the club, such Olympic-quality specimen of womanhood appointed herself close to me under the shamiana, flashing smiles as for a toothpaste ad. As the Rainmaker above continued to be kind to me, I liberated my bottled-up, pheromone-driven intelligence on my companion. I spent a good five minutes being charming, humorous and, even, chivalrous (“Shall I scoop you in my arms and take you inside my car where you can dry off and change, so that I can then drop you off?”).
All this while, she looked at me, nodded, threw her head back in laughter (her hair almost catching
the corner of my right mouth, the right corner of my mouth), and looked specifically delighted to have met me. She said as much. Here:
“Thanks for being so nice, Uncle!”
UNCLE?! I looked around, but found no one.
And THAT is the illegally fornicating word that is the answer to this illegally fornicating quiz.
You know the rest. Thanks to all of you who read this and some more to those of you who commented.