It was an ordinary room. The table even more so. It was square, wooden with a fruit basket in the middle.
There were four chairs. ABCD, arranged anti-clockwise.
Kafka sat on B. The sun pierced in through a boring window exactly behind his chair, so that Kafka’s shadow sat on D. Kafkadow. Kafka was asleep. The fruits were centered within his shadow’s stomach.
There was a lot of smoke in the room. It came from the Kangaroo, standing between D and A. He wasn’t your usual Kangaroo; he wasn’t wearing your customary red boxing gloves. But he was smoking. Marlboro Lights.
Fantastic Fanboy was seated on C. Armed with a quiver full of maps. Much randomness was floating through him, you could easily tell from the angle of his glance.
He was just banging his head on a wall. He’d run and crash His head and fall. Then He’d do it again. He did it exactly behind A.
It was an ordinary room hosting an extraordinary contest for Supreme Oddness.
No one apart from the finalists could enter the room. To avoid normal-pollution. Things would commence automatically when the bell rang. DCBA. Each would have to prove his own peculiarity.
Supreme Oddness (What's after Trinity? For Four?)***
TRRRING BZZZZZZZ RRRRNGGINGGG TRRR ZZ (We stole it from a hospital, it’s half broken.)
***
Kafkadow heaves a 90% sigh. Then he looks at Kafka who is 100-105% asleep.
“Asshole! Always snoring.” says Kafkadow with considerable spite.
Kafka’s shadow explains how he is an insomniac.
But even before Kafkadow can begin, behind A, He starts to laugh loudly, “You call that strange? HAHAHA!” And then He starts to bang His head on the wall, harder than ever.
“Anyway. It’s a bitch I tell you. I spend all night staring into the ceiling as I get dragged across the room.”
Kafka slumps down on his chair. Kafkadow dips below the table.
He continues, “The worst thing is I am not sleepy. I mean no sleep has got to fuck you somehow right? It’s been 19 days now!!”
Kafka stretches his arm out, and then extends a loud yawn before slowly pulling his legs apart. Eventually he falls.
Kafkadow now lies carelessly splattered on the floor, “During the day I am so exhausted, it feels the sun will make me crack and then the cracks will widen till I die." He is in tears.
Of course you can't see shadow's cry. Well maybe sometimes, at certain angles. Rare, though.
Then he calls out to one of them, any one, “Please shove a cigarette between his lips. I need that?! And can you put him back on the chair? This is a little embarrassing.”
Nobody moves.
***
“The thing is, I’m not sure if this would be less pathetic if they had commissioned me to do it.”
Fatntastic Fanboy explains how he is looking for someone, anyone, who hasn’t heard of The Beatles in England. That's what he does in life. For a living. There is no money though. But it's still for a living.
“My God! That’s odd?? Do you actually think you can win with that???” The others were all getting irritated with Him. He just wouldn’t stop laughing or crashing his head.
FF starts to sweat about 45% and says, “So I leave home every morning and cover every thing on my maps, bit by bit. I am almost 7% done already and it’s only been 3 years.”
“No I don’t speak to Children.”
“No Asians.”
“I don’t know. I will tell him who the Beatles were, sing Eleanor Rigby and then I’ll move on.”
Then he sings Eleanor Rigby. It's really horrible. Kafkadow wishes he was dead.
***
“The thing is that no one takes a suicidal Kangaroo seriously.”
The Kangaroo wants to die in a car accident. Apparently Kangaroos that died in car accidents, on purpose, were reborn as humans.
There is a giant crash followed by the shrillest loudest laughter. A single enormous guffaw cut into tinier sausage shaped giggles. Madness comes over Him.
The Kangaroo scowls, wishing he had the bloody gloves on.
Dreaming of one less nose in the room he says, “I want to be able to listen to Radiohead. Ok Computer, especially. Hmm, In Rainbows was fairly ordinary. Anyway.”
Pulling on his 63% cigarette, “Fucking humans will be 100% righteous about killing Kangaroos. They’ll crash their cars, but save me. Somehow. Dickheads.”
“Anna Karenina, I want to read that too. If you don't read or appreciate Music you are 50% Kangaroo anyway?!!”
"No??" says Fanboy, offended slightly. He has gone only as far as Karma Police would take him, and Anna K. was too long.
“I can’t!! Well I can't, because Ipods don’t fit Kangaroo ears.”
“And I can’t turn pages. No fingers. So no Tolstoy.”
Then he lights another Marlboro.
“Ok?? Fuckers??!”
***
It’s His turn finally. But He is busy crashing His head on the wall. Same spot. He is still covered in silly laughter.
“So what’s your story?” demands Fanboy.
Kangaroo puts Kafka in place and Kafkadow returns to his chair, he is staring at Him for a reply.
“Tell us or we throw you out of the window,” thunders the Kangaroo, sadly.
***
He continues to crash His head. Slowly the laughter fades. Then he walks to A and sits down.
He plucks out a banana from Kafkadow's stomach, tears it open and eats it up. Clumsily.
Kafkadow wants to say, "HEY!" in protest. But he doesn't. He watches the banana disappear with its shadow.
“Me? Well I wrote this! I wrote you! HAHAHA.”
He then points at the wall. The others turn to look, simultaneously. Just where he had been banging his skull it read, “Writer’s Block. 95%"
"Oh?"
***
TRRRING BZZZZZZZ RRRRNGGINGGG TRRR ZZ
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