The past weekend a very integral part of me fell ill – my calculator. The life support system it relies on aka the batteries burned out. It was twitching and wincing in pain; Every passing second represented the fast approaching death.
I knew I need to act fast. I dressed up fast and carefully put my ailing calculator in my backpack. I firmly planted my foot on the accelerator and skimmed through traffic. I didn’t care about the traffic lights; it was an emergency. I even emulated the ambulance siren with my crafty mouth. I wanted people to just come to a standstill and make room for my speeding car. My car and I were on a rescue mission, but this cruel world didn’t care. Evil drivers constantly made vain efforts to slow me down by following the speed limit, by stopping at stop signs – seriously who does that shit? That’s so unfair. My sheer determination, and immaculate driving skills (Danica Patrick ain’t got nothing on me) helped me over all the obstacles and make it in time.
I then stepped out of my car, grabbed my calculator and nervously walked over to the cashier. She told me it would take 10.57 to revive my sweetheart. I gave her 10 dollars – now the life of my mathematical genius depended on 57 cents. I couldn’t find any change on me. SHIT! CRAP! My calculator looked at me in awe. It knew what this meant . Both of us just stood there thinking about all the wonderful times we had in calculus class. We kicked ass of my classmates like Gangstas. It was over. All over!! At least that’s what I thought. Then suddenly the lady murmured, “10 is fine. Have a good day.” Such an act of generosity. Thank you lady, for rescuing my baby.
No comments:
Post a Comment