The story that never quite was …
His reflection met his melancholy gaze with a stern stare. The morning had been full and lazy. His back ached for no apparent reason. Distracted, dazed and still confused, he tried to recollect what had happened the night before.
A casual survey of the room showed nothing out of place. He did however, notice a heap of clothes that resembled none of his own. It was then that he saw the shape on his bed. Pulling back the covers revealed a naked form, so beautiful that our yet nameless hero felt his jaw slack and vision blur.
In a moment it all came rushing back to him. The drunken revelry, the innocuous flirting, the walk in the dark deserted alley, the mugging.THE MUGGING. The pain in his back triped as he realised how badly uhurt he was.
This was not shaping up to be a great day. THe only good thing he could see was the hot chic on his bed. ‘Damn she’s hot. How on earth did I manage to bag her?’. For the record, he was neither Virender Sehwag ugly, nor Rahul Dravid stunning. He was more like your regular run of the mill average joe.
She stirred. As she woke he stammered an awkward good morning. ‘Crap. I don’t even remember her name.’ As she walked to the bathroom he could’nt help stare at her. ‘Hey Jack? Where’s the toothpaste’? His problems tripled. ‘Jack? I ain’t no Jack Bitch!!!’ he thought to himself. He did realize however, that he did not remember his own name.
She came out in a loose bathrobe and asked ‘What do you want for breakfast?’ ‘Eggs.’, he replied without thinking; his mind still pondering over who she could be. While she was busy with the eggs he scanned the room looking for clues. Clues that would help him figure out what was going on.
‘Whats wrong Jack?’, she asked peering over the counter top. ‘WRONG. I can tell you plenty WRONG.’ he thought. ‘One. My back hurts like crazy. Two. I don’t remember my own name. Three. There is an unknwon hot chic in my apartment cooking my breakfast’. ‘Last night was something eh?’ the hot chic asked, a playful grin playing on her lips. ‘Yeah.’, Jack replied, modulating his tone into one he hoped masked his amnesia.
What happens Next?
PS: First attempt at writing a story
PS: I do NOT know what happens next, I was just typing what came into my head
PS: This is not a stunt. There wont be a “The story that never quite was – II
PS: Must post: Manish sister wedding, Vizag trip etc.
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