On the express request of Orange Jammies, here are some more 55-ers. Aarrgghh! Nooo! Nahin! Took some time because I tried to make stories around a favourite theme of mine... the Seven Deadly Sins!
Sixers will take some more time to come. There is only a certain level of brevity a Bong can stoop to!
* * * LUST * * *
He switched off the ignition and stared at her. She turned in her seat and her cleavage stared back. He gazed at her midriff. She pictured his abs in her mind. He thought of reaching out and grabbing her.
The light turned green.
His Merc turned left. She sighed as her husband’s scooter went straight.
* * * GLUTTONY * * *
“Your order – one pepperoni pizza, extra cheese. Large fries. Address please?”
“There’s no address. Your boy has to come to the crossing.”
“But we can deliver it home.”
“I am not at home. A ward boy will wait with the money.”
“Ward boy? You won’t come?”
“Can’t. Just had a bypass. Still in the ICU.”
* * * WRATH * * *
“Can’t save both”, the doctor said. “You have to decide between your wife and baby.”
The woman who changed his life and a lump of flesh he had not even seen? Why was the choice difficult?
Was it because he knew he was not the father?
The doctor asked again. He made up his mind.
* * * SLOTH * * *
Rafique entered Filmistan grimacing. After shooting till four AM, he had no intention of coming back today. But stuntmen could not afford these bouts of laziness. As Amrit Khanna’s duplicate, work was guaranteed whenever the star was shooting.
Rafique reached Mangat-bhai’s room with 45 others.
Shooting cancelled. Amrit Khanna was too tired after last night.
* * * PRIDE * * *
The speedometer touched 200.
He zipped past a gaggle of ordinary bikes which wobbled in his wake. He passed a BMW. The girl in the passenger seat seemed mermerised. He accelerated, approaching the bend.
At 260, he did not even notice the truck. Indians on Hayabusas forget that trucks mostly come from the wrong side.
* * * ENVY * * *
Mummy was always with Chhotu. Daddy played only with Chhotu. Nobody played with me anymore. They are not like this. They love me. Because Chhotu cries, they have to go after him.
Now, Chhotu is gone.
I cut my hand when I threw him out. But I didn’t cry. I must not be like Chhotu.
* * * GREED * * *
He had photocopied the report – like always. But this time, he understood it. Shakti Petrochemicals had struck oil and he needed to put everything on Shakti’s shares.
Since his everything would yield nothing, he had removed 4.5 lakhs from the safe. He felt rich already.
Far away, a worker on the rig lit a match…