It was the end of the day. The big amphitheater was empty in most parts. Only a few natives of abracadabra could be seen here and there. Most were stuck to a device relaying messages to their someone. The place was getting cleaned up as the bouts had finished. The gladiators were already crowned. It had been a big day in abracadabra. Much frantic activity had preceded the D-day. And now the day was behind the backs of its inhabitants. That evil bastard called time had crossed to the other side leaving indelible memories. Cruel for some but definitely kind for many.
And now there was this narcissistic bastard. Time had stopped for him. And he seemed to be frozen. But why was this bastard smiling. Hey! look properly. This bastard was laughing loudly. Bloody has no shame, I guess. Some people were trying to lift up the spirits. Some asking strange questions but he seemed to be somewhat heart-broken when people did not even care to take a few chocolates from him. Must have thought that without anything to support him, he would run a debt and leave the scene.
Even after the world has collapsed right under his eyes, look at the airs he put on. This bastard was a freak of sorts. He believed in something called as methodology. He believed that circumstances could be controlled by the natives of abracadabra or any other planet. He believed that if you plan everything then things would fall in place. He believed that he could control destiny.
And now he had lost the battle with time. He was particularly afraid of one thing now. On planet earth, it was referred to as a placard. And now even the very mention of that word gave him goose bumps. He was disgusted to see them. An eerie sense of discomfort would spread around whenever he saw one now.
And now what? It is pay-time. Death was certain. Someone must die. But who? Should the idea die or the person? And how? And it was a pertinent question. Even now this bastard does not stop asking questions.
Everyone thought that the world had changed and the narcissist was still caught in a time warp. And thus came the verdict, “Both must die”. One for preaching a corrupt idea and the corrupt idea itself. They were lined up and hanged till death. Or so everyone thought. They all rejoiced that night; the inhabitants of abracadabra celebrated the deaths with merrymaking on a grand scale. Deaths and celebration, deathly celebration. And for them, thus came the demise of a self. Demise of a certain anachronistic school of thought. Disintegration, decay, destruction, demise, drama and placard and placard and placard and placard. And then appears the ultimate sweetener: death and finality.
The narcissist when in the throes of death though feeling immeasurable pain, laughed and laughed and laughed even when he was crying profusely from inside. But he believed he would rise again like a phoenix, somewhere someday, but nobody may know. Nobody would care, for the world would have had moved on.
