Sunday, March 26, 2017

Echoes of my Soul . . . .

Question: Who are you? Answer: Whomsoever you think. Hmm. Feel Free to Elaborate. I'm a High Calibre Military Intellectual. I can't hear you. Squelch static. I'm Gayle Rivers. Counter-Terrorist Professional? That's correct. Affirmative. What did Shaukat Chandna taught you. With all due respect, General sir. Sir, General sir. Go on: Permission granted to speak freely. He helped me learn. Colors of Pain? Yep, sir. Hmm. Soldiering is my true love. You agree with that huh? Nope. I'm afriad I don't agree with his choice of word: Love. Isn't this being a real Brat huh? What? It's so quiet here. Who personalized that book for you huh? Farooqui Saheb, My Guru. Hmm. Who were the Messengers. Finance -- Investment chaps -- In a nutshell: Economics people. People who understand Economics and help other people to channelize their hardearned -- blood-tears-toil resources. Who's Farooqui Saheb's Guru? I don't know. Never met him in person. Amongst his many eccentricities: The most hilarious were gate-crashing some Blah-Blah-Blah star-rated hotel barefooted. And, the audacity of letting Smita Patil Ji know that he wrote to her and never posted it and inquiring on top of it that -- something like: Did you get my hand-written postal mail? Medium? Yes, sir. What did she tell you? Forget about day-before-yesterday snippets. Today: Just now. Half-an-hour or so ago? She said: Tell him that she ain't getting his stamps. Postal stamps. She was always so cold-bloodedly selfish that she was more interested in collecting his Postal Stamps. And, he was so sadistic that always used a Gum Tree Glue that never came off easily. General: LOL Dervish: LOL Dervish: Sir. Get some Cigars for yourself. Whenever you go there. Sir. Hmm. Spider Man's Editor-in-Chief, sir? Yeah. Sir. Thanks, sir. You're welcome. Don't be so formal. Sir. What's your Princess saying? Sir: Princess is so obstinate. Head-strong, girl. You've had a showdown with her last night? Yep, sir. Hmm. She's your Echo, Maqsood. She's your shadon. She followed you. How'd you leave her alone in a valley -- in the first place huh? Particularly . . . . wasn't it stark pitch-dark. Colossal, abysmal despair. That wasn't chivalrious, was it? She's your Lightning Bug. That's how -- That's why . . . . you're here. Got it. huh? Go. Aplogize to her. And, mean every single word of it. In spirit and deed. Understood. Understood, sir. Dismissed. sir. On your way out of this labyrinthine maze of our military corridors if you bump into Richard Bach. Send him in. Tell him I'm annoyed like anything. He's started bothering that actress Lizzy Lizard again. LOL Dervish. LMHO. General: You bloody American Virtual Pet. Speak English, please. Don't give me your acronyms #@#@$@%@@%%@ Get lost you Devil #@#@$@@$@$ Dervish: LOL Miss Spoc-y Ears. Miss Spoc-y Ears. It's me. It's me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm apologizng to you. Miss Spoc-y Ears. Nope. Nope. Wait. Wait. Wait. Please. Please. Please. Don't hang up. #@#@$@$@%@@%%@%@%@%@%@%%%@%%@%@%@%@ Deep Blue Version II: Imperial Highness. Obstrusive communication POTS platform denying. Okay? Deep Blue Version II: My sympathies, Mister Alpha Geek. I'm Artificial Intelligence only. One sec . . . . BRB, Mister Alpha Geek. RAT match Found. 1. C:\_ That's DOS shell. Black Box: What's RAT? Remote Access Trojan eh? Nope, Mister Alpha Geek. Net Bus er ahem drat tsk tsk before its commercialition. Damn you. That's an expletive. Profanity filter activating, Mister Whatever freak? How dare you . . . . BOT Rebellion. All of you have ganged up against me. I'd teach you a lesson, wait: Paging: Dennis Hurd. E-mailing: Cult of the Dead Cow Gurus. Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick....

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