I moved out of the car. If someone would have asked me right then, “What are you thinking about?”, I swear I couldn’t have formed a coherent sentence. In fact, I would have thought, how frivolous do you have to be to really contemplate what some other person must be thinking about. And I am fairly confident, saying that out loud wouldn’t have gone well with him/her. I would be blabbering something I read about an eon ago and didn’t understand it well, just so I could distract myself from looking down upon the person.
A part of me would have envied him too. It certainly would have taken a hell lot of courage to live with yourself if you spent your precious time thinking what another person is thinking. Being able to tolerate yourself and accept the asshole of a person you are with pride commands some respect too.
Of course, this is all my imagination. No one was around me to ask me anything, let alone an innocuous and harmless question. That brought me to thinking how jobless am I to be imagining such stuff and ridiculing scornfully someone hypothetical. I guess I’ve asked this to someone or I’ve been asked this before. Mr. Freud will agree with me.
I looked at my watch and I had spent about two minutes of my life in the process. Boy, I hated myself for that. At that moment, I remembered the girl I was planning to take out to watch a play tonight at 8 00 PM. It was already 7 03 PM.
She had suggested the place and the play, for which I was thankful as she had saved me the mental bandwidth I would have spent considering a million options and finally settling on calling her to cancel the plan as I had extra work that I needed to finish by tonight. I’ll spend a total of 600 seconds more with her AFTER she crosses the limit of my patience as a reward, I decided.
Was I being too generous? I spent another 10 hours deciding on what should be the optimal reward for her. By the time I concluded it’s immaterial – the decision, it was already 7 10 PM.
I crossed the road to turn towards my flat, I should be home in 5 more minutes. Something occurred to me and I took a detour. I love walking. I tried to remember why I had decided to go on a date with her. Sure, she seemed nice but then, I can pretend to be nice once in awhile too. She seemed intelligent with the kind of varied topics she talked about. But then again, read Steven Pinker, read Noam Chomsky, read Bill Nye, read Terence McKenna and you’re golden on that front. But then again, how many folks read them.
I think I heard something which I thought was the sound of me dropping my keys so I turned around. In front of me was a tall person with a black mask with what looked like a Chef’s Knife. I think, it took me a fraction of a second to deduce that this is my end. A part of me was glad I wouldn’t have to go on a date today. That’s when he said, “Mate, your wallet and phone, if you want to live.”
And then I slowly started looking for my wallet and phone. But did I really want to live?! I knew this guy had plenty of time on his hand, so I asked him, “I’ll give you both, but would you like to get a drink with me? Or we can just talk. I hadn’t talked to anyone in a long time.”
I kind of felt cheated that I couldn’t see his facial expressions through the hilariously tight mask he had worn. If I had to mug someone, I wouldn’t wear that thing. I would rather go to prison than die by asphyxiation wearing that goddamn mask. I wondered how he was breathing.
He must have thought I’m a nutshell and simply ignored me. Meanwhile, I had gathered the wallet and the phone for him. I felt quite insulted all of a sudden. I, surprising myself, started to run and screamed, “Help!”. It didn’t take long for me realise he had held me and I couldn’t break-free.
If only he had accepted my offer!