The Quirky Life of P

Humor and satire revolving around Mr P- a fictional mix of an avatar of Mr Bean and the veritable Bertram Wooster of Wodehouse fame.

Archive for the month “August, 2014”

Manifesto for the feline…

New Picture (4)I write a manifesto on the duties of a good neighbourly cat

For I am tired of cat poo and the occasional dead rat

Adorning my yard, garden and even the porch;

The smell so bad, sets my anger to torch.


If neighbours keep cats, please get them potty trained

To use cat litter, no matter if it shone or rained;

Any cat to my home welcome, if this pact was kept,

To which I now add some more to accept.


The Felis catus should not filch my fish

Nor scare my lovebirds, that would be churlish!

Nor wake me in the in the middle of the night

With mating howls or sounds of cat fight.


Don’t look me in the eye with sly disdain;

Wagging that tail in anger, please refrain

When I try to protect my tuna snacks,

Or when I surprise you in your tracks.


If these points, you sincerely abide by,

I’ll come to love you by and by;

With you I’ll then share my milk and prawn

And rub your back for a purr, if you keep your claws withdrawn…


A friendship as strong as iron… Ironic?

Daily Prompt: 10,000 Spoons

…When all you need is a knife might not be ironic, but it is unfortunate. Add your own verse, stanza, or story of badly-timed annoyance to Alanis Morissette’s classic.


“Don’t bother about your luggage. I’ll put the suitcases in the car. You just relax and finish your breakfast and then I’ll drive you to the train station”, P said patting his friend on the back.

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P’s friend had come for a visit and after staying with him for three weeks, he was about to return home.

“That’s all right but I don’t want you to trouble with the luggage. I know you have a problem with your back” said P’s friend in between gulps of corn flakes.

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“Oh don’t worry, my back is all sorted out now with daily yoga stretches. Anything for you my friend…” P reassured as he went to get the car keys.

P heaved a sigh of relief when his friend finally got in the car and they took off for the train station.

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He enjoyed having friends come over and stay but when the stay extended from a few days to more than a week, all the discipline of getting up early and cooking and cleaning which were big deviations from his usual daily routines tended to affect his nerves.

In other words, although he had been glad when his friend had come for the visit, he was very glad now that he was leaving.

He was thinking of getting back to his easy go life of walking around in his pyjamas and relaxing with the Daily crosswords in the mornings, eating pizzas and takeout food, watching movies and sleeping in front of the TV or enjoying quiet dinners.

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It was no wonder then that P was whistling as he drove. He was happy. He gave a sideways glance at his friend who was leaning back on the seat with a solemn look. P wondered if his friend could sense his glee and was feeling hurt.

“I am going to miss you terribly. Couldn’t you cancel the ticket and stay for a few more days?” P asked to keep up appearances.

“I would have stayed but everything is booked out for another two weeks. I was lucky to get this ticket for today.” replied P’s friend.

The drive to the station took about an hour and P checked his watch as they reached the destination. “You have fifteen minutes to board. Do you want to grab a cup of coffee before that?”P asked. He was rummaging his dashboard for coins and change to pay for parking fees.

His friend smiled at him. “I’m fine. Let’s just get to the train and find the seat. My ticket is in the front pocket of my suitcase” he said and got out of the car, walked to the back and opened the boot to pick up his luggage.

Hearing the word “suitcase” sent a jolt through P’s brain and he remembered…

“You must have really, really wished that I stayed longer”, came his friend’s voice from behind. “Was it by accident or did you purposefully leave my luggage back at home?”

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10,000 spoons

A Secret Memoir…

The topic ‘Memoir Madness’ sent P careening down the memory lane. It was fairly a long time ago that P had first attempted writing memoirs. It had been while he was studying in a boarding school. The school insisted that all the kids kept a school diary. P had only reached the country from overseas a month ago and had joined the school as a new student. He had never been exposed to the concept of school diaries before. P still remembered the book with the midnight blue cover that he was given. No sooner had he received the book than he had written down what he really felt about some of the classes and teachers. He had shown this to his peers and his new friends then told him that school diaries would be routinely checked by the teachers to see whether the students were indeed writing down reminders and tasks for home work. P had been flabbergasted. He then had taken a lot of effort to convince the warden that his diary was lost somehow and that he needed a replacement. He had finally succeeded and had ended up with two look-alike books…..

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P had been pretty amused and thrilled with what he had written down in his first diary and felt he needed to continue writing his thoughts, poems and his inner feelings. He particularly enjoyed waxing sometimes lyrical and sometimes satirical about the food at the boarding school, the home works he was given and the classes and teachers he liked and disliked. This was maintained as his secret diary while he used the second book for the purpose for which it was really meant and was submitted to the warden routinely every Friday morning.

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Weeks had gone by before the day that would always be engraved in his memory dawned. P remembered it had been particularly chilly that fateful morning and he had not felt like leaving the warmth of his bed and blankets. He got up late and was in a rush to go to his classes after a hurried breakfast. While he was picking up his bowl of corn flakes in the dining hall, he saw that his room mates who had already finished theirs were walking out with their diaries in their hands. P realised it was a Friday morning and he had forgotten to bring his diary down. He asked his friends if they could do the favour of grabbing the book from his room and submitting it to the hostel warden along with theirs while he finished his breakfast.

The day’s classes had gone well for P but he was glad to reach his room in the afternoon. He was feeling a bit sleepy, probably because of all the poetry writing he did at night.

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As he was climbing the stairs, he had come across the warden who seemed to have a glint in his eyes. P remembered wondering whether his friends had not bothered to pay heed to his request in the morning. He had scurried to his room. His roommate had reached there earlier and was unpacking his schoolbag. P had gone to his study table and was putting the books down when he saw his diary there.

“I knew it!’ he had exploded. “ You did not hand in my diary today, did you?”

His puzzled friend had then assured him that his diary was indeed handed over. He said that he had known exactly where P kept it as he had seen P put it under his pillow the previous night and so had not wasted any time locating it and taking it to the warden!

P now remembered how he then had taken the real school diary and had walked on jelly legs to see the warden who still had the glint in his eyes. “Well, well, well! It looks like we have a budding poet here with us!” That had been his only comment!

P remembered with fondness how the warden, his lips quivering, trying to stifle mirth, had then taken his school diary and had handed back to him his secret memoir.

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Memoir Madness


P felt that something always happened to spoil things when he was having fun or savouring the niceties of life. His experience at the beach today was a classic example:

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The sky was blue, the breeze was cool

The waves dancing and playful

On the beach, he stretched to read

When bored of watching gulls feed.

The pair of flip-flops, now they lay

From his feet, not far away.

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Leafing through ‘The Old Man and the Sea’

He read the blurb and let the book be;

The man in the book, he was old,

But wise he was not, though very bold;

Who would leave his catch a-floating

For other fish to have their filling?


He pondered on what he himself would do

When age caught up with him too;

A piece of cake it could never be

(Though a slice occasionally, he craved with tea)

With the economy and shares flip-flopping;

A wise old man would cut down spending.

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A frothy wave then tickled his feet wet

As the tide came in, the sun had set;

Barefooted, he left to buy his tea and cake;

His resolve on thrift, he had to forsake

To buy flip-flops; his pair floated away with the swell;

So why not then, a slice of cake as well?

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Odd Trio Redux

A silly talk about sins…

“I’d say there are not seven but eighteen sins”, said P. He was having his usual over the fence discussion with his neighbour and the evening’s topic happened to be philosophical.


“I have heard about the seven cardinal sins, wrath, avarice, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony”, said the neighbour. But what are those eighteen sins you are talking about?”

“You know, breaking the ten commandments….., that would add another ten to the list, won’t it? By the way, I forgive you for breaking the ninth commandment…. You know the one about You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.’ I am talking about the complaint you lodged with the city council when I tried to fertilise my garden.”

“Let me correct you. There was absolutely nothing false about my complaint and it was not ordinary fertiliser that you were spreading in the garden but stinking fish meal”. The neighbour said irritatedly and P noticed the flush of anger on his face.

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“You are now about to commit the first cardinal sin…., wrath”, P said hastily. “Let me say that it is all water under the bridge and I bear no grudge”, P added in a conciliatory tone.

P’s neighbour did not seem to be easily appeased and continued “I would also say that you are culpable of breaking the last commandment ‘You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife; and you shall not desire your neighbor’s house, his field, his male servant, his female servant, his ox, his donkey, or anything that is your neighbor’s.’

“That is the biggest joke I have ever heard,” said P. “Agreed you have a house with a bit of a garden. You don’t have a wife and I have not seen any male servant, female servant, ox or donkey sauntering around in the compound. I have only seen your cat!”

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“I know you don’t covet my cat and I believe the sentiments are reciprocated. Have you paid attention to the last few words ‘Or anything that is your neighbour’s’?” persisted the neighbour.

P mulled over the point raised and understood what his neighbour was getting at.

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He smiled and replied “I know you are referring to your car. You see, the seven cardinal sins added with the ten of breaking the commandments would only make seventeen sins. There needs to be another sin added to the original seven if the tally has to reach my suggestion of eighteen sins. That eighth sin I’d say is selfishness such as when you would not let me borrow your Porsche!”



The Eighth Sin

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