What happens when a not-so-girlish girl tries to be girlish? Disaster.
The day began with the usual nautankis of mine. I forced dad to drop me to the Metro station because it was him who made me get into that freak course (though I have started enjoying myself there but I’m not telling him otherwise I will loose my pick-and-drop service). After the course I had plans to go and watch Spidey 3 with Bitch No. 1 and Bitch No. 3. I am no. 2 (You can find us on bitchno.whatever@kaminepankihadd.com. The website has been under consideration since two years.)
Bad luck struck (as usual). We couldn’t manage to get the tickets despite stalking a pair of men who were waiting for some of their friends and had just two tickets. We decided to sit in our good ol’Mc Donald’s where we usually hang around and can be found either tarot carding or making fun of others. Even the staff knows us well. In fact, I did a tarot session with them too for which they gave us free ice-creams. All details later.
So, we were just sitting idle and watching television there when we happened to meet a friend, who was with his friend. This friend of his is known to us and it so happened that he is more into girls now. Let’s call him bug. He has turned into a major irritating factor. He suggested that we paid a visit to the newest mall in town and we agreed.
Now it so happened that No. 3 was wearing pencil heels. Since she had thought that all she was going to do was to watch the movie and then hitch her ass on to a rickshaw and get home, she thought she might as well wear heels. While pencilled heels need one to sit and look pretty and not walk around much, you need to make proper use of your feet to explore a mall. As it is No. 3 walks a bit slow and add heels to that, you get Snail No. 1. She said her ankles were aching. So, being the benevolent friend that I am, I decided to put an end to her miseries. I asked her to change footwear with me.
And the misadventure began. Destiny and heels made me realise how tough modelling can be. It needs brains to manage yourself and I suppose nothing short of a management degree would do. Trying not to fall on somebody, I started walking. Even normally, I sleepwalk most of the times and keep bumping into people. So not bumping into anyone and not stepping on their toes became a perilous job. I would rather have Mr UM's story to edit everyday (He writes shit and I hate doing his stories which are about crappy issues anyway. I don’t know who clears such stories).
We couldn’t get a rickshaw till the Metro station and had to walk. On top of that, No. 3 decided to treat us with ice candies. I wanted an ice cream but she will have none of it. Ice candy it was, and that too from a vendor who didn't have my favourite raspberry-mango candy. I had to settle down for a cola. (She is such a bitch). So, finally there I was, balancing the bag, the ice candy, the heels and myself, walking, or rather trying to walk, and people giving me company from time-to-time. No. 1 was quite sympathetic (she could have been better) but couldn’t help much as Bug was irritating her. No. 3 was acting Mommy, trying to help me cross the road.
Finally, I saw heaven. There it was, smiling benignly at me, asking me to take refuge in it—the Metro station. But God decided to have one last bit of fun at my expense before he retired for the day. An imposing flight of stairs greeted me. That could have been enough to dash all my hopes. But I am a shameless git. I simply took off the heels at the metro station and walked barefoot. Braving the stupefied glances and smirks, I walked on and on and finally boarded the Metro and slumped myself on to the seat and then proceeded to taunt No. 3. I told her what a big fool she was (she still is and will perhaps remain one all her life) and how I got her a boil because of her foolishness. However, being a thick skin, she took my taunts in her stride and I was unsuccessful yet again to reform her girlish ways.
The boil has healed, but not before I was heel-ed.
