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    dots Submission Name: Sense and Sensitivitydots

    Author: psychoneurosis
    ASL Info:    37/m/Chennai
    Elite Ratio:    3.44 - 37/46/24
    Words: 608
    Class/Type: Prose/Satire
    Total Views: 726
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3649

       OK...this one not completely me...well...the insensitive part isnt too...
    dont know why i wrote this piece...i guess there is too much of funny man adi dancing in my brains lately...
    if it sucks do let me know...

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsSense and Sensitivitydots

    PART 1: The Beginning

    One fine day, though some oppose that description, God made Man in His own image. But God, still in the process of creating the universe, and not having reached M for Mirror, had not taken into account just how ugly His own image was! And so, like every father who can't stand to be around his son, He showered Man with gifts like surround-sound speakers and the Jaguar S-class. Time passed. Man was happy just cruising around in his car and finding new places to scratch himself and God was busy adding the finishing touches to the Zebras and Zippers. But there came a time when God suddenly became very depressed.

    "What's the point of it all? Who cares anyway? Nobody appreciates me!" He cried, sniffing on Man's shoulder. Something inside Man's simple mind rumbled, a vague premonition of things to come perhaps, and he blurted out, "No, you don't look fat!" God, hearing the response, grew furious. Lightening crashed and volcanoes erupted. The oceans began to boil with His wrath. "You insensitive little creature! I have given you all the joys in the universe and you can't be bothered to pay attention to what I'm saying?" And in his anger, God pulled out one of Man's ribs and made Woman.

    "Ha Ha Ha!" He laughed maniacally, "See how you handle THIS!"

    PART 2: The End

    In the end, there was me. Standing next to me, undiminished by the passage of centuries, was a woman. And in her sweet, melodious voice she was yelling, "You insensitive little creature! I have given you all the time in the world and you can't be bothered to pay attention to what I'm saying?"
    Who ever said that God is merciful?
    Okay, perhaps that was a sexist way of looking at the whole Adam-Eve-and-the-Rotten-Apple theory, but anyone who has heard my side of the story will surely sympathize. You see, all my life I've been mislead. Whenever the 'Who am I?' question popped up, the answers supplied to me were all about my nationality, religion, cultural roots etc. And, believing myself to be an average Indian boy, I passed my days in blissful ignorance. But then slowly the truth began filtering down to me. A chance remark here, a passing comment there. It seems that the entire female population knew the truth, and had finally decided to let the proverbial cat out of the equally proverbial bag. Any woman reading this will know exactly what I mean, but for the male readers I must clarify. It seems I am not Indian, I am not Christian, and I may not even be human. All I am, wholly and completely, is Insensitive! And the funny part - so is every other guy on earth!
    It's really quite simple. When an embryo is being formed in the mother's womb, it receives either 22 pairs of XX (pronounced 'tsk tsk') chromosomes or 44 XY chromosomes. The Y-chromosomes are unfortunately one legged, and the Xs soon learn to poke fun at this defect. They challenge the poor Ys to races, or knock them over onto their side, and generally behave very heartless. 9 months later, having become expertly insensitive, a bouncing baby boy is born, who laughs at his mother for being so plump and at the doctor for having messy hands. This is not to say that there aren't insensitive women or sensitive men. These freaks do exist. The women, however, have suspiciously abundant facial hair.
    The sensitive men are all living on the continent of Atlantis grazing unicorns in fields of four-leaf clovers

    Submitted on 2005-12-26 01:01:31     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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