One calculating sum sets an agenda.

Hidden under the alcove of a tree set in his chair, rocks the story of one man. It is there, amid the sounds of the many taped fingertips, that he designs the one calculating sum. An agenda riddled in void set to the date of infinity.

Tick one.
Tick two.
Tick three.

The pestulant clock begins to chimes its throne as the hurried black ravens flutter their antagonized protest. Once more a wrench turns its silent turn. And while the smokey whispers curdle their way into the frantic sound, the led mice begin their march towards the plains of a one lost paradise.

A rocked cadence found in the footsteps of a one calculated sum.

Da Police. Whoop Whoop.

Listen Mr. Officer, you don't have be a complete jerk about what happened ok? Yes, I did run the red and YES it's true I don't have a license, but must you be such a twat about the whole situation? Does my humiliation have to be received in such cordial and professional tones? This is nothing but a disgusting administration of just law and I will have none of it!

How can a simple badge institute such audacity? The respect of law, which you officers seem to administer, flabbergasts even the most sane of my senses and it is with great animosity that I write such scathing notes. Respecting traffic laws...BAH.

How do you stop me, a Husain motherfucking Vahanvaty, for something so inconsequentially illegal? How do you think you are huh? Sitting there fancy, half pint smile on your face judging every passer by. Turn your sirens on for all I care and watch my apparent disregard of the law.

So here is to you, Mr. Officer and your unreasonable tickets...*middle finger*

Simplistic Explanations, a short story by Husain Vahanvaty

Stop Talking, drink water and breath some air.

The End.  

You've never fucked a goat?