Blahsphemy

A table has two sides. One side is mighty powerful whereas the other pretty weak.  The powerful side is in fact another world. A world where you had the power to hire or fire someone. A world where you could get away with whatever crap. Whereas for someone on the other end the world sucks. A world where some one else dictates your life. 

The cat was a master of superstition. He could spawn negative thoughts by showing up at the wrong place at the right time. The mere act of his running across the path had made many a superstitious soul cancel appointments. He had scared the shit out of little kids by jumping on tin roofs in the night and by clawing closed doors. Today as he was basking in the morning sun a million ideas on how to scare humans passed through his mind.   

Gregor Samsa would've had a normal life like any of us, had it not been for Kafka and Murakami. His life was alright until these two gentlemen decided to barge in. It was Kafka who turned him into a cockroach. He had protested initially, but had gradually started liking his filthy existence. That's when Murakami interjected. Now he is back on his two legs and in love with a hunchback.  

The dead cat had a secret to tell. It was the secret that killed him in the first place. He had come upon it by chance, like all deadly secrets. One day while he was basking in the early morning sun he saw a man placing a sign on the fence. It said danger and had the picture of a lightning bolt. Nice trick thought the cat. How can the fence hide a thunderbolt? Until he climbed on it and saw his nine lives get jolted out of his body by 3500 watts.

The talking fish is back. He was happily doing rounds in his bucket. I was pretending that I didn't see him. But he saw me for sure. Because he started talking the moment I entered the bathroom. I was avoiding him as my partner thinks that I am talking to my mistress in the bathroom. She will never believe me if I tell her about the fish. She has never seen him even though we share the same roof. I can hear her footsteps stop by the bathroom door. I don't blame her, no one would believe such a fishy story.