So I was with a girl and she was really really hot and we were in my room and about to get naked, when thunderous knocks at the door jolted me from one of my rarest unconscious states when I am having a horny dream. I opened the door with a groan, only to face Rohit, Mishra and the bespectacled grasshopper. They all came in, not caring to leave their shoes out and sat on my bed, fully clothed, while I sat half naked, with the pillow on my lap to hide my morning wood.
“You lousy man! It’s voting time! “Started Rohit. I glared at him, wondering if I should tell him how he has already ruined the day for me, as I reconstructed the hot dream girl in my mind. He opened the Almirah, fished out the deo, and sprayed half of it all over his body, including the gonads and the socks, and asked me to get ready. He was smelling like the insides of a Nivea Men spray can.
I groggily rubbed my eyes and grabbed the Colgate Plax from the table. I went inside the washroom after setting lock patterns in my phones, carrying my facewash, boxers, and the denims. It didn’t take long, though I desperately wanted to crash on a spongy surface and close my eyes, hoping the girl will return and we will fully make out or something. I mean look at this, guys, I’m such a loser that I don’t even get the dreams.
I went back to my room, grabbed my wallet and keys, and embarked on my first voting voyage with my prudish friends who didn’t like me explaining loudly the female erogenous zones in the middle of the sidewalk.
“You’re a sex addict or what? “Asked the bespectacled grasshopper, ired.
“Ah! You people don’t value knowledge. “I criticized them. Mishra stared at me dumbfounded-ly, and said,
“Dude, knowledge surely doesn’t mean drawing similarities between clitoris and the scroll button of a computer mouse. ”
“Well, I bet they are…”
“Shut the fuck up. And remember the ballot number. ”
I hate remembering ballot numbers. I asked him what the ballot number of our classmate – the girl with big doe-eyes – was, and he said, giving me a dirty look,
At the entrance, my id card was checked and I was told to keep walking straight. After a lot of struggle, I found the booth for history hons students and was thunderstricken to see our political science teacher perched at the desk near the booth.
“Ravish! “He recognized me instantly.
“Uhh..er..good morning sir. “I beamed at him, wishing I hadn’t come.
“They told me you had dengue. “He said, kind of worried. Well, I had told them to tell him I had dengue, IN CASE HE ASKED ABOUT ME. But they didn’t wait for him to ask, those bastards. I don’t like political science, but since he was gazing at me with parental affection, I had to promise him that now I’d be regular. Damn it!
Even though my father participates in election almost every time there’s an election – Govt. Duty – I had never seen an EVM machine before. It was a dumb gadget anyway. I quickly recalled the stupid ballot numbers and pressed the buttons. The girl with the big doe-eyes got my lucky vote. I hurried out the door, sneaking away from the fixed stare of political science teacher.
Once at my room, I played Titanic theme song and dozed off.
The girl never visited me again.