Phantom and N2 go to Saidapet??
That was the title of the short story we were supposed to write for newsletter coordship application. As a friend of mine on reading my response to it put it, i fought arbit with arbit. I enclose hereby, …………..
PHANTOM AND N2 GO TO SAIDAPET
There are a few things you gotta know about Alpha before you start reading this ‘short story’ (I myself rather prefer the conveniently generic ‘piece’):
1. Alpha is a guy.
2. Alpha the guy can be a real pain in the ass.
3. Despite what the title might suggest the story is about Alpha the guy who can be a real pain in the ass.
Now that that’s over we can move on to the story that is set in an ordinary college campus setting…….
Alpha thought he was really fucked up. But even that was not what he really cared about. What he really cared about was that he thought the world thought he was really fucked up. He was still smarting from having got low GPAs in his last semester. So much so that he’d painstakingly explain to all the very few who cared exactly why the grading system sucked. Now when a guy begins to do that kinda thing you know he’s really fucked up.
The last straw came when his one application for coordship at the college TechFest was rejected.
By the time the cultural fest at his college came around he’d come close to completely losing it. He was at a point in his life when he’d do just about anything as long as it proved a point to the world. But life is the ultimate sadist, and when you are really desperate for something, you can rest assured it won’t happen.
The pent-up desperation had built up to the point of explosion. And there was no outlet in sight. It was at this point that the event that explains the title of this piece happened.
Applications for coordship for the CulFest had been invited. Having been vocal in his disregard for the coordinator selection procedures ever since TechFest, our man had cornered himself into a situation where his only acceptable response could be a total lack of interest. Yet when he saw the title of the ‘short story’ required to be submitted by newsletter coordship applicants, he could not stop himself.
It could only be described as a stroke of genius(something about a ghost’s journey with a notrogen canister to a fish market), although men of lesser finesse preferred other words (many of which cannot be mentioned here without considerably contaminating the high-strung gentlemanliness the author has striven to impart to the piece) . And it did what nothing else could have managed. It gave him the outlet.
And so on a Word editor beneath the title in caps, Alpha began to type away. He simply let it flow. Electrical impulses, or close approximations anyway, flowed out from the tips of his fingertips magically conjuring letters and words on the monitor, producing writing so enormously skewed and distorted in its logical bases that it took the madness out of the man and planted it squatly on a virtual A4 sheet, a virus quarantined, waiting to copy itself into unsuspecting minds , the violence in the writing hidden somewhat by the despicably unshakeable Times New Roman font , refusing to quiver and shake with the necessary theatricality of the fingers that it drew from, to produce the even grander manuscript it could have been.
After a few minutes of tireless typing, Alpha looked up at the screen to begin editing. He skipped the title and started reading “There are a few things you gotta know……..”
Ah that reminds me, something else you gotta know about Alpha:
He has a weakness for writing recursions. He thinks it cool that the story comes full circle.