Blahsphemy

There were no numbers on the clock. No hour hands either. It was just a circular contraption that chimed randomly. The flawless fluorescent lighting of his cell never gave away anything about what was happening outside. Everything was white, the chairs, the tables, his clothes, the floor... The only things that weren't was his hair and eyeballs. He yearned for some colour in his life. But wait, didn't the story start with a clock? That contraption was still there and it chimed startling him from his dreams filled with colours.      

Will you take off today? The body pleaded with the brain. I will someday, muttered the brain. Deep inside he knew that someday was not there on any calendar he had come across.  

You are doing a brilliant job my boy. When you walked in through that door, you were that, but now you are this. You are that as well. You are blah, blah, blah. That's why we had taken this deliberate decision to underpay you. So that you will always remain hungry and foolish. You are the best.   

All the contents of my mind were strewn around. I panicked, was there a burglar lurking somewhere in there? Or did my mind explode? As I stood there contemplating, my alter ego emerged and consoled me. It seems, he was just cleaning up my closet.

There is that nagging spelling mistake again. You make that even after being aware of it. Maybe it's hereditary. Your DNA has messed with your brain big time. Now swallow your pride and correct that word. He couldn't believe that his computer could be so harsh on him. After all, he was the one who set the autocorrect function to full-sarcasm mode.  

The lizard was sunning itself on a branch. His body was the colour of the leaves. His tail was the colour of the bark it was resting against. His eyes were two alert pinpoints which scanned the surroundings. That's when he noticed me gaping at him. He turned his head away in dismay. I don't blame him as for him a big dumb human is nothing compared to the juicy tiny flies he might miss while looking at me.   

He lay there motionless watching the ants marching on the ceiling. Right from his childhood he had this fascination for ants. He never used to get tired of the ant and the grasshopper story. He tried remembering the various types of ants he had come across in his life. The red ones, the black ones, the tiny grey ones, the big black ones, the sour ants, the hard stingers, the ticklers... the list went on and on, just like the ants on the wall. Later that day, when the cleaner lady found him lifeless on his bed, he had ants of every shape and size coming out of his brain.