Drunk and Bad Boy vs Show Off

I have always believed that the man upstairs was in a very interesting mood when he decided to work on The Puli, and every day has been a living testiment to that belief. The world has thrown numerous challenges at the Puli, but the Puli to his credit, simply waltzed around them with fluid movements, poetry in motion am I. Little surprise, afterall I am the Puli.

And being a Master of Complications, incidentally I even have a watch by that name, strange..., where was I.... oh yes, being the Master of Complications, no day is an ordinary day in the books of the Puli. If it's complicated, The Puli will simplify it, turn it into a walk in the park. But if it's simple, Puli with his natural charisma, will complicate it, effortlessly.

Like what happened today. For the past two weeks I have been under some pain. I have had a niggling pain in my right cheek as I kept biting into it everytime I chewed on anything. To cut a long story short, my wisdom tooth, my right upper wisdom tooth, curse the devil, decided he didn't want to come out straight instead he came out sideways. Thank god he decided he didn't come out "bottoms-up". Someday when I donate my body to medical science, in all probabilty they will stumble upon a very interesting research topic, - the effects of beer drinking on the growth patterns of wisdom teeth. It has already been proven that people who consume alcohol, have a tendency to walk sideways, when under-the-influence, of course. But is there any connection between you walking sideways and your wisdom tooth growing sideways, can individual parts of your body too be under-the-influence? We'll just have to wait and see, I am yet to donate my body to science.

So, the story goes that I went to a dentist to have my wisdom tooth removed. Now as is always the case with the Puli, it didn't long to figure out that an ordinary dentist wouldn't do, we needed a Dental surgeon.

Now, why is is that everytime I go to a doctor, they are suddenly compelled to act all cool and they want portray themselves as "hep and happening" people? This man, the surgeon, said he had just returned from a holiday at Bandipur, where he saw plenty of panthers (they also go by the name Puli in Malayalam), and he ran into a Tusker that nearly gored him to death, and he escaped withing inches of his life. "My friend is a conservantionist and we have access to areas that other people only dream of". Two minutes later he gave me the number of his friend who runs that resort and told me that thay guy would take me to all these exclusive places, but promptly added that he would charge a fortune for it. Sucker. What a loser, stupid Show -Off. Doctors these days push the whole concept of references to a whole new level. I am sure he would also make a little off the side. Cheapo. So, automatically I discounted all that jack he told me about working with the tribals in the area and how Mr Goody-two-shoes does his bit to save the world. Now after he had established himself as a raring adventure junkie who knocks people's teeth out for a living, he decided to get working. I put up with all this because we had to wait till the anaesthetic took effect. The Jackass stuck me in some seven times, may be more, I lost count, he just kept poking that stupid needle in my mouth at regular intervals, and as it didn't pain as most of my mouth was alread numb, I didn't complain. But as usual, in typical Puli fashion, my tongue decided he wasn't going to go down without a fight, so we had to stick him in twice. This is why I hate doctors and people in the medical profession, actually I dislike a lot of people, but doctors would figure really high up on that list of people I hate or would go to great lengths to avoid.

He knocked out one of my wisdom tooth, Drunk Boy, in one clean move. He didn't put up much of a fight, he is street smart you see. You don't get into fights when you are high. He was a fast learner. Now, it was the turn of the second one, Bad Boy. Bad Boy had to be pulled out because he was being a bad influence. It was he who made the Drunk go "astray" in the first place.Else Drunk Boy would have, in all probability come out straight and gone on to discover pure and clean alternative forms of energy.

Coming back to the Bad Boy. Now you must realise that Bad Boy wasn't drunk at this point of time, so he wasn't going to go down without a fight. The surgeon ran his drill through him, hammered him about a dozen times, but in true Puli spirit, he didn't budge. Finally, the doctor, Captain Show-off, opened his bag of gizmos, typed in the secret code, and locked the co-ordinates of his most powerful weapon onto Bad Boy. Now Bad Boy becuase he had signed the infamous NTPT and was an active signatory of IAEA, no longer possed nuclear weapons, but Show-Off hadn't done any such thing. By the way, considering all the UN sanctions with all due credit, he was reluctant to resort to this as he feared " contamination". Finally, after several rounds of contemplation, the Loser aka Show-off, aka the surgeon, decided he was left with no choice but to go use his nukes, and he pulled out his drill bits. First, he beheaded poor old Bad Boy. That's when he realised that he wasn't named Bad Boy without a reason. You couldn't simply uproot Bad Boy, he wasn't going to throw in the towel that easily. In his infinite "wisdom", he had locked himself firmly into my jaw, making him unshakable, literally.

But the doctor, went about his business with his fancy drill bit. He cut up the now beheaded Bad Boy into three pieces, some postmortem this. Then, again he got working with his funny tools - a shiny screwdriver like device that he used like a crowbar to dislodge the remains of the Late Bad Boy, a shiny hammer like device and tweezers. I know if I asked him for more details, Captain Show-off would have told me that it's not called a screwdriver and a hammer, but it's called something else, it's made from the finest metals and it was forged in some special mould by a one eyed monster, who dwells in some remote cave that occasionaly receives a few blasts from hell that he uses to melt the metals and make this "magic" tool. Like his tweezer was called Forceps, as if I didn't know that, as if knowing it was called a Forcep made all the difference and we now can now solve the global food crisis. We can release a new version of the Puli, one that knows what a forcep is, only to realise that that word already existed in his vocabulary before the mighty Show off decided to give him an educaton into the fine art of naming surgical instruments. I was in no mood to listen to that shit, so I decided to keep mum. He had already given me a lecture on how Bad Boy before he decided to come up North and emerge through the gums, had secured his house firmly with a good Godrej 11 lever lock and locked himself against my jaw.

Show-Off toiled labouriously for some fifteen minutes. Throughout which, of course, he kept telling me that it shouldn't have taken so long, usually it's a two minute affair, a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am sort of thing, but Bad Boy had sent him in search of the fabled g-spot. I lost track of what else he did, I just lay back, closed my eyes and waited till he had knocked himself out and thus Bad Boy was finally knocked out. I counted till ten, but he didn't not rise. A new champion was born, Captain Show-off.

Being a good sport, he acknowledged that Bad Boy had given him a fought fight. Respect, afterall he was born of the Puli. He formed a fist and held it out, hoping Bad Boy would do the same and the two could gently tap, a boxer's shakehand as one would call it, but it wasn't to be, Bad Boy was wasted. But in the spirit of the Geneva protocol, he offered to give Bad Boy a decent burial. Bad Boy now lay, or more aptly, where Bad Boy once lay, he built a tribute, covered the hallowed ground under six millimeters of flesh, held together by sutures. A lot of his "blood" relatives arrived by the truckload (don't ask me how by the truckload - the truckers strike has been called off you moron) to watch this great duel and their numbers "swelled" by the time he was finally laid to rest.

The sudden demise of Bad Boy and the Drunk has left an emptiness in my mouth. They will be missed. As for me, I am trying to come to terms with it. All the "blood" relatives have left, but the "swellings" remain and remain they shall for a whole week. Vultures, hoping he left them something in his will.... what has this world come to.

I have been given six days and a basket full of drugs to come to terms with this sudden loss. And, since Drunk Boy is no more, as a tribute to him, I have sworn to/had to/forced to, stay off all forms of his favoured drink for a full week, no easy feat considering this is the weekend. No beer, no liqeuer chocolates, no rum cakes, nothing. As for Bad Boy, he truly was a bad boy, he's left me without any hard food, without spice and not even warm food. True sadist he was, and even in death, he torments me. Now I have to spend the next seven days of my life eating bananas, cold rice porridge, drinking cold tea with the occasional ice cream offering some relief. Oh wait, I forgot to mention the delicious steriods, multicoloured capsules which tend to give you a tummy upset, some more coloured tablets to prevent a tummy upset, painkillers, who knows what else. The Show-Off wrote me two pages of shit that he would like me to do when he goes about doing his victory dance...... stupid Show-Off.

I just can't wait for the next weekend when I get to meet him. This time he'll be the one going home with a feeling of emptiness in his mouth, but the son of a bitch has put a hole in my wallet. Too many battles to fight, too little time. If those drugs do what they are supposed to, may be after some mind altering experiences, I shall forgive him. Isn't that what mind altering drugs are about anyway. I just hope there's some LCD or heroin in some of those drugs that he prescribed.

The End

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Characters:

Show-Off = the Dental Surgeon
The Drunk = My right Upper Wisdom tooth
Bad Boy = My Right Lower Wisdom tooth.
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