Moody’s love hate relationship with the raincoat (satire)

Moody was allergic to raincoats – when the movie was released, he just could not get an opportunity to see it because he was busy selling tea and then climbing the ladder of success. Building an empire of his liking was more important than even caring for his better half. He allowed her complete freedom to go on pilgrimage.
The telephone rang and distracted his attention. He picked up the receiver and heard a feminine voice. The caller was Tressa May.
‘I heard you peeped into a bathroom and have got involved in a raincoat affair?’ she asked.

Moody gulped.
‘You have been misinformed,’ he said. ‘Why should I go peeping into bathrooms?’
‘Well – the news has gone viral that there is a Peeping Tom on the prowl. Anyway, tell me – why should you pick on an aged man to be the butt of your joke? Why did you not pick someone your size? Of course 56-inch chest is not a common sight.’
Moody gulped again. He had never realized that raincoats could create such a sticky situation. By the time he thought up a suitable reply, Tressa May had gone off the line and Baba Someday entered the cabin.
Moody’s eyes lit up. He could discuss raincoats with him. The Baba had never felt the need of a raincoat till now – his glistening black beard and topless figure was the envy of every Bollywood star.
‘Tell me Baba,’ Moody asked him. ‘How can you survive without a raincoat when it is pouring cats and dogs?’
‘I just enjoy the raindrops giving me a natural full body wash,’ Baba grinned. ‘It is something that no beauty salon can give. You can also give it a try.’ (to be continued …)


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

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Moody fires cannons to eliminate mosquitoes (satire)

Moody was basking in the glory of surgical strikes. He had proved to the world at large that his boast of a 56-inch chest was no figment of imagination. He could deliver the goods when required. But – all of a sudden, a couple of unwanted visitors dropped in and he had to use cannons to fight off some measly mosquitoes.
The first man to congratulate him on his achievement was Vladdy Putty.
‘I have loved every moment of your 58-hour episode to eliminate a couple of mosquitoes,’ he said. ‘How many rounds of ammunition have you used up?’
‘Actually my man Pyari Kar will know the exact figures,’ Moody said. ‘And – it was a 57-hour battle, not 58.’ Moody corrected. He wanted to put the records straight.
‘Battle?’ Vladdy Putty was surprised.
‘Of course,’ Moody said. ‘They had holed up in a seven-storied building and it had sixty rooms and sixty bathrooms. It took time to locate them without damaging the items in the rooms. My men have done a wonderful job.’

After Vladdy Putty finished, Angel Miracle came on the line.
‘Congratulations on winning yet another round,’ she complimented Moody. ‘But why did it take so long? Don’t you think that 57-hours was a bit too long to eliminate only two miscreants?’
‘It was a tricky job,’ Moody explained. ‘We had to keep the building surrounded. Time was no problem because it was a sort of practical training for my boys. They have to always be battle ready.’
‘I believe that you had choppers circling overhead?’
‘Yes. We wanted to maintain continuous surveillance. We did not want them to slip away.’
‘But – your expert fighters could have taken the aerial route and dropped from the skies. They could have entered from the roof or through the windows.’
‘They did what was best,’ Moody said. ‘My man Pyari Kar was following their moves.’
‘If you ask me, I would have finished the elimination within a few hours.’
Once Angel Miracle finished, there was Tressa May on the line.
‘You have done a great job,’ she said. ‘But – do you not use tear gas? If I had to do it my way, I would have lobbed in a couple of tear gas shells. That would have brought them out in the open faster.’
‘Actually we tried to starve them,’ Moody explained. ‘We knew they had brought dry food with them and once that finished, they would have to come out.’
‘But, I believe that there was a canteen on the topmost floor. Then how would they starve?’
Moody could feel his overseas friends laughing behind his back.
They had lauded his surgical strikes but could not swallow the fact that it took 57-hours to eliminate two mosquitoes. And, hundreds of bullets were spent in the process as well as manpower plus expenses related to diesel for continuous chopper and drone operations. (to be continued …)


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org


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Moody becomes moody after surgical strike (satire)

Moody had got the news about the surgical strikes and elimination of a pack of nuisance – they kept infiltrating into his house and destroyed his garden. He wanted to erect a wall and demarcate the boundary because the infiltrators gave the excuse that their literacy was low and since there is no visible boundary, their flocks keep making mistakes.
Suddenly the hot line rang – it was Clean Ton, a woman leader who could mean a lot.
‘Yes,’ Moody picked up the receiver.
‘How did you hit upon the idea?’ she asked.
‘What idea?’
‘This surgical strike,’ Clean Ton said. ‘I thought it was about some surgical operation on a serious patient.’
‘Well – it was one such operation done on the sly, in the dark.’

‘You mean there was no light in the Operation Theater?’
‘No, it was after midnight.’
‘You mean an operation in the dark?’
‘Sort of,’ Moody said. ‘Outsiders had entered my area. They kept entering on some pretext or the other. Once it was about chasing honey bees. Then there was the case of coming for their cattle that had strayed into my territory.’
‘I see,’ Clean Ton lowered her voice. ‘I think you are the fittest man for the job I have in mind. Your experience would be an asset to me.’
‘What do you have in mind?’ Moody asked.
‘I want you to eliminate the reign of terror in the Middle East. I am determined to rid the world of the mess and, with the expertise that you have gained, I feel it would be a cakewalk for you. I have discussed it with Angel Miracle and Tressa May – both of them agree with me.’
Moody gulped. He had eliminated infiltrators from his backyard but taking it to a global level would be tough, especially the type of people who were behind the terror outfits.
‘I can’t give any guarantee,’ Moody said.
Clean Ton laughed.
‘You have a 56-inch chest, this work would be easy for you. Of course, they have teams of suicide bombers. You will have to neutralize them first.’
Clean Ton rang off and Moody called in his associates Sue Sharma, Pyari Kar and Rajanna King. They came in and Pyari Kar had three files on boundary walls – one was barbed wire, second was brick and mortar and the third was laser wall.
‘Just now Clean Ton had rung up,’ Moody said. ‘She is impressed with our surgical strike and wants us to replicate it in the Middle East to eliminate you-know-who.’ (to be continued …)


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org


Some more interesting links -

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9300 people killed in Russian airstrikes in Syria during last year

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Moody is off mood – Na Buzz had fooled him again (satire)

Moody, like anybody else, wanted to enjoy his birthday. He wanted it to be a quiet affair but the media did not give him any elbow space. With nothing to talk about, they hit up on the plan to get him some sort of international recognition – one of them said: ‘let us keep count of people who wished him on his birthday.’
Anyway, Moody left it all to his PR men – they knew best how to project him where he would get talked about and benefit the most.
But – the phone call from his friend Bee Rack O’Vama shook him out of his slumber.
‘What man,’ Bee Rack sighed. ‘How can your security be so slack? How could they not know about the infiltrators?’
‘They had come dressed in our uniforms,’ Moody explained. ‘And – their hair was cropped like our men!’
Bee Rack sighed again.

‘You are planning to go to Mars but you don’t have any mechanism to identify the original from a duplicate!’ Bee Rack said. ‘Of course your movies are full of duplicates. But you must design some mechanism to prevent such attacks.’
‘It is all a fault of one of my neighbors.’
‘You mean the neighbor on whom you dropped in all of a sudden on his birthday?’
‘Yes. I had dropped in on him on his birthday to wish him and, on my birthday, his people kill my men!!’
Bee Rack disconnected the phone and Moody immediately convened a high level meeting with Pyari Kar, Rajanna King and Sue Sharma – they were all involved in looking after the defense aspects and foreign affairs.
‘How did it happen?’ he shot the question.
‘They took us by surprise,’ Pyari Kar replied. ‘It was early morning and the time of the day when the eyelids get heavy and it is difficult to keep them open.’
‘Moreover, they were dressed just like our own men,’ Rajanna King added.
‘Na Buzz has fooled us again,’ Sue Sharma ground her teeth in anger. ‘He is a slippery character and is buzzing all around the world and talking too much about the ‘K’ word at every forum.’
‘Not just slippery but more slippery than a snake dipped in oil,’ Moody added. ‘He will say something today and, do a ninety degree turn the next day. I never expected such behavior from him. I had believed him to be a true friend.’
‘We must teach him a lesson,’ Pyari Kar said. ‘We could do something similar to what they have done. The latest incident was nothing short of a betrayal. Just imagine an attack at dawn that killed a whole lot of innocent soldiers.'
‘I am hurt,’ Moody stared into the distance. ‘How could a leader who had exchanged gifts when we met for the first time do this to me?’
Just then his phone rang – it was Tressa May.
‘What is this I hear?’ she shrieked. ‘How could anyone fool you? Last time it was a group of men from across your border who were chasing runaway cows and entered your air base. What is it this time?’
‘I heard they were chasing some birds and lost their way,’ Moody replied. (to be continued …)


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org


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Moody and the cow syndrome (satire)

It had been taught in schools that the cow is a sacred animal – it gives milk and its solid and liquid wastes have tremendous market value. The solid waste known also as gobar is used to produce electricity to bring light to many villages.
Moody was worried because a certain of people were using the cow to settle scores and it was not a good trend. It was sending the wrong signals to the outside world and he wanted to check that.
Suddenly his phone rang. It was his good friend Vladdy Putty.
‘Your national animal is the tiger, is it not?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Everyone knows it. We have launched a program to save the tiger.’
‘And – I believe that one of your political parties have the tiger as an emblem?’
‘Yes. That also is true. Only – it does not roar any more, neither does it bite.’
‘I see,’ Putty lowered his voice. ‘I hear you want to change your national animal and go on for some other animal.’ Moody laughed.
‘Why should we?’ he asked. ‘The tiger remains our national animal.’
‘What about the cow?’
‘Well – there is a nursery rhyme about the cow jumping over the Moon. Do you mean that or do you mean our Moon launch plans.’
‘Are you interested in cowsheds? We could consider a joint venture under your Make in India category.’
‘Thanks for the offer. We don’t want foreign interference in our goshalas.’

Putty disconnected and, immediately, Tressa May came on the line. She was excited.
‘My dear fellow,’ she began. ‘I have come to know that you have patented the DD Fuel?’
‘DD fuel?’ Moody blinked.
‘Yes – the Dry Dung fuel,’ Tressa said. ‘A modified version of the cow dung cake that is a popular fuel for many. Gems Pond has informed that it is being made in a secret location in the Himalayas under the guidance of one Baba Someday.’
Moody scratched his head. Baba was always up to some thing or the other. And – he always springing surprises. If Gems Pond knew about it, why did Baba not keep him in the loop?
‘I think I will discuss this matter with you in person,’ Moody said and hung up. (to be continued …)


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org


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Moody has too many women around (satire)

Moody was proud of his 56-inch chest but, the world around him was falling apart and women were forcing their way into the male bastion. As a result, the ever-so-smart Moody, who loved to coin new words and phrases was in a dither.
Women were fine in the kitchen and in the maternity wards, but why barge into the predominantly male domain of politics.

The ringing of the phone brought him back to reality. The caller was Vladdy Putty.
‘Our friend Day Weed has gone,’ Putty said. ‘It was sad to see him leave. Poor man – he had to pack his own belongings.’
‘I know,’ Moody said. ‘Here we do it differently.’
‘How?’
‘We just do not leave our bungalows,’ Moody said. ‘Actually, I want to change all that.’
‘Can you really do it?’ Putty asked. ‘Will your people like it?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Moody said. ‘I have my methods. I have made people give up their LPG subsidy. I can make leaders to vacate their accommodations also. But – that is not likely to happen in the near future.’
‘Anyway – that is your headache,’ Putty went on. ‘I actually called you on another subject.’
‘What is that?’
‘Day Weed has gone, Bee Rack O’Vama is also on the way out. We already have Angel Miracle and Tressa May and there could be Clean Ton to follow. There will now be some more women in our sights.’
‘Yes. I am not worried. I can handle women,’ Moody replied.
‘Remember, these women wield enough power to keep their men in check,’ Putty said. ‘They have funny ideas and can play spoilsport at will. It is difficult to trust them.’
‘I don’t trust anybody,’ Moody said. ‘Not even my wife.’
Putty laughed.
‘We men are all alike,’ he said. ‘But – invariably, they get the better of us. And – in international politics that can be disastrous.’
‘I can put in place any woman who becomes too big for her boots. I have done it recently. The poor woman does not know what has hit her,’ Moody said. ‘My policy is - Men must tower, women must cower.’ (to be continued …)


Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org

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