Fantasies of a Lazy Ass

How many times has it happened I can't even remember. Saturday morning arrives and I am lying in my bed oblivion to the constant, indefatigable movement of the hands of my wall clock. It strikes 7:00, 8:00, 9:00 and so on...without any visible effect on me. And yet it doesn't give up. I am lying there, half asleep half faking it, in a make believe Eutopia of my own, where I will never have to wake up to the lonely walls of my bedroom and would instead be greeted by the flower gralands studded blondes, wearing see-through scarfs as a substitute for skirts and thick wavy hair blobs acting as the natural bikini tops, covering there cute little bosoms waiting to be nibbled by my...."TTTTTTRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINGGGGGGGGGGGGG!"

Good Morning, Hyderabad! It is 6:30 am, headlines for the moment. 82nd Pleanry Session of Congress begins today...blah blah. India vz. Pakistan second test match to be started today at Faislabad..blah blah. And here goes nothing.

It is 6:30, I have a cricket match to play. Before that, I have to reach there on time. Before that I have to call up my friend who is going to pick me up on his way to the ground. Before that I have to wake up completely and get freshened and make myself presentable...Umm! Aactually just ready-for-cricket kinda presentable...you see. Well, you won't be taken seriously committed to the game if you appear in a half asleep state and that is the last thing I want, to be taken lightly. I don't know why but I hate it when people take me lightly, I guess that is some psychological condition, like self-obsession or something, but I don't care.

And the day starts with a 5 hour physical exertion...Don't ask me the result of the match because it is not about the match I am writing. It's about me. And I was happy to have spent those hours with some really committed guys trying to satiate their desires of playing for India in the National Cricket team. Well, they could have made it, almost, if they had not chosen to be in the IT industry. But that is again irrelevant. I come home after 5 hours of run-for-your-life madness on the cricket ground and there it starts again, my fantasy. This milky white skinned babe, wearing the scarf and her hair covering her supple breasts, only that this time it is a brunette well I don't mind actually, asks me to take off my t-shirt and lie on my belly, as she is here to massage my back and relieve me off my fatigue.

I was gleaming with pleasure; sometimes the anticipation of an event is more pleasurable than the actual occurance of the event itself. I took my t-shirt off with a masquiline jerk and yet complying with the sensuality of the moment (at the same time ignoring that deplorable tyre of fat which I proudly call my waist and the gynacomastic chest which would have put any woman to shame in a different world), made my movements in a more dignified and subtle manner. Looking in the eyes of that beautiful sculpture of a woman whose eyes had promised me more than just massage. And then all of a sudden she jerks her hair back in a motion more graceful than the amble of a cheetah. And approaches me with lustful eyes and her hand is about to rest on my shoulder, as I can breath her fragrance. That soft milky cushion of her palm touches my shoulder blade and suddenly....BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR....BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR...

Damn !!! The house maid, all charged up to finish the cleaning in yet another record time and full of impatience as it is noontime and yet she has to ring the bell 5 times before I answer the door. And that concludes my massage session for the day. I am all up and ready to take a quick shower and get ready for the rest of the day when I realize that I could actually realize a part of my dream. The sparkle in my eye, on that thought, was brighter than a million dollar diamond. And in five minutes I was in the reclining chair of this barber shop around the corner, having my bones crunched by the massager. He was doing his best to make sure he earned a tip today, and I with my eyes closed was enjoying the climax of my encounter with my dream masseuse, ocassionaly interrupted by the jerks and sounds of nitrogen pops in the different joints of my body.

Finally, I realized the power of imaginative thinking...