A Story In Which Three Men Fight Over a Woman

Today, I was going to blog about why I like drinking blood. But as I sat on the branches of my tree, King Vikram, like so many of his ancestors, interrupted my ruminations by trying to capture and kill me.

He  hauled me on to his back like I was a bag of rice. With a determined air he said, Today I will kill you vampire!

I sighed deeply (is there any other way), and just as I have over the last many thousand years, gave my captor a set of choices.

-Listen King, I said, I will tell you a story, at the end of which I will ask you a question. If  you answer the question properly, I will escape and fly away to my tree.

Beware! If you know the answer and remain silent, your head will burst into a thousand pieces. Be mindful for in such a state, you will find it impossible to floss your teeth properly.

But you might be compelled to remain silent because you lack the knowledge or the wisdom to provide an answer. In that case,  I will willingly lie down on the ground like an ill fated onion so that you may chop me into tiny pieces.

-Humph, said King Vikram.  Like his forefathers, he didn’t belong to the chatty type.

-Listen O’ King to this true tale, I began.

Not many years ago lived in our part of the world a  girl by the name of Alice. She was a pretty girl and had three eager suitors, Tom, Bob and Mike. Alice was a budding writer and her parents, friends and suitors eagerly awaited her next blog post.

Like so many girls of her age, Alice was into boys, text messaging and crystal meth. It was the latter habit that reared its head like an ugly serpent and stung Alice and the well laid plans for her future.

One evening, Tom found her on the carpet, wrapped around herself in a tight ball.  As always, her lips were red and luscious, but from them poured forth a green drool. It was not as luscious.

Tom was an astute man, well versed in the ways of the world. He knew not only the address of the nearest bowling alley, but also that of the nearest rehab clinic. A quick drive, a hushed bribe and Alice found herself in a room that had trampolines for walls. Having checked her in, Tom did what most young men his age do. He went home and bragged about his magnanimity and fortitude to his friends.

Bob felt a sharp sensation run down the length of his spin, even though it had been at least eight hours since he had inhaled cocaine. He correctly recognized this tingling sensation as jealousy. He decided to do one better than Tom.  Over the next few weeks, he secretly began visiting Alice in the clinic. He told her amusing anecdotes, read to her the works of W. B. Yeats and breathed life back into her famished soul.

Mike stayed away from Alice. Instead, he went to her apartment. A mirror to her mind, it was in a disorderly state. Mike arranged the books on her bookshelf by the correct genre. He filed away her writings in soft manila folders. He dismantled the crystal meth lab in the apartment. Due to his efforts, Alice was able to get back to her writing easily as soon as she got back to her apartment. She flourished in the neat and orderly atmosphere. Her blog spiked in traffic and she had to go in for an expensive server upgrade to accommodate the increased traffic. Her daily blog stats acted as a soft and soothing Vaporub to her troubled soul.

Now fully healed, she had to make an important decision. She had to choose between Tom, Bob and Mike for her boyfriend.

I paused meaningfully and shifted my weight on the back of the king.

-Tell me, O’ King, I said. Who should she choose? If you know the answer, tell it to me now, or your head will break into one thousand pieces.

King Vikram twirled his moustache as his brain cells spun into motion.

-Shut your chatterings, foul Devil! he said angrily.

-Tom took her to the rehab clinic and gave her much needed support when she needed it most. He fulfilled the duty of a son. Bob visited her at the clinic, and breathed life into her. He played the role of a father.  But it was Mike who created a nourishing atmosphere that made it possible for Alice to fulfill her desires. It is he who should be her lover.

-Well said, O’ wise King. In your infinite wisdom lies my liberation.

I laughed in a manner that a writer of yore may have described as “lustily” and flew back to my tree. The King’s angry glare dimmed in brilliance over his drooping moustache.

It was a good thing King Vikram knew the answer. For as the sky turns an inky blue, the night is fragrant with the outpourings of young jasmine flowers. The earth breathes with hope.

I am not yet prepared to die.