Ghosts. I’m screwed. My life in deep shit!

So what happens when a soul is desperate? Desperate for everything. Say craving for anything that can exist on earth. Deep craving. This is what happened to me and one of my friends. We thought a lot about it. We cannot necessarily get all what we seek.

And finally we’ll die at age of 60 half satisfied; more the years more the desperation and as many more desires; shorter the life lesser the desperation, lesser the desires. Buddy, why not start dope, cigarettes and all that stuff. This way we can cut short our life! Suicide was never an option. It takes too much of courage to do so. If you do not believe me then see one of the suicide videos (shot by a Russian couple), you can download them from Kazaa. Even the mere thought of it the beats the shit out of me! Moreover we never wanted to die as cowards but as knights in shining armor who unfortunately died in their quest.

Hmmm.

Murder each other? Nah. We are not killers. Wraparound. Dope cigarettes blah blah… All that which cuts short your life by few seconds every time you relish them.

How does that help? Well it’s simple. Either me or my friend would die earlier. We’d become ghosts, for some of our desires were unfulfilled when we breathed our last. The one who becomes the ghost would kill the other or drive him to the limit so that the desire to get killed kills him. A heart attack. Something. Something fatal. But, wait a minute.

Darn, that suspicion! No matter how good friend we arte this thing never bids adieu.

What if after becoming ghost my friend doesn’t come to my rescue? What if he doesn’t kill me?

I’m screwed. My life in deep shit.

A Tribute!

We brought them home young. They were brother and sisters. In their clan nobody was brother to any sister. I use the term to identify the fact that they were born to the same mother and see their relationship in the way we see in our world. Both were beautiful naughty little fellows. When we brought them home I too was a child, a little child. So I had company. We used to play together, go for a walk together. Do everything except some things, together. When I used to come back from school and later on vacation from college they used to jump on me and my first day used to pass being with them. I loved them so much.

He was macho man type. Chasing all the boys and girls in the neighborhood. Chasing and yelling at the top of his voice every vehicle that honked more than necessary. She was more homely type. Every morning before sunrise she would come and sneak into my blanket and sleep close to me. I could feel her breath. Ah! Bad-Breath. Both were very fond of milk, mangoes and green vegetables. They’d eat any vegetable, of course if they’d like it!

Some years later he, the one known for his notoriety in the neighborhood, one who would loiter around with those of his likes, contracted a contagious communicable disease. The docs told it was some kind of skin infection. We never wanted to do so but had no other choice to save him from all the misery and also save us. We had to mercy kill him.

Now she feels all too lonely. Mom and dad are at office and she feels all alone at home. I can feel how happy she feels when we all come back home. She never leaves us; and gets very upset when she finds we are going out for a couple of days and not taking her with us.

She is getting old and would die soon. I already miss him and would soon miss her too.

My pets.
Tuffy and Tipsy