Diary of a confused young man

Journal entry 55:
I woke up this morning to find that my pimples burst, and there were scratch marks all over my face. And my hair was strangely well-combed. I talked to a friend about it and told him about my suspicion- that a madman comes to my house every night, skews my nails, puts the trimmings in my mouth and proceeds to pop my pimples and comb my hair. The friend asked me why anyone would do that. I gravely looked at her and said, “Who knows what lurks in the hearts of men?” She looked at me as If I was some kinda loony and said that I have blood under my nails, that I probably bit them in my sleep, scratched my pimples myself, and combed my hair, too. I gave her the same look she gave me, told her that we're no longer friends, anymore, and that she can find someone else to harass.

Journal Entry 58:
My cat died today. I think it was poison. I had been using rat poison to try to kill of the buggering rodents, but they were very clever. Either they ate the poison and died somewhere else which saved me the trouble of cleaning up, or they hoarded the poison for precisely this purpose- the taking out of their mortal enemy, Lucy the brave and horizontally challenged leonine cat. I demanded an autopsy from the local vet. The vet said that he found rat bones inside Lucy's stomach and intestine! I exclaimed right there and then with horror that the rats were more clever than I thought. It seems they poisoned themselves to kill Lucy! I was horrified and called the local newspaper about my sound and logical theory about the Rat Uprising. No one believed me.

I'm moving away from this place. I realized I'm not happy here.

Journal Entry 60:
The move was difficult. I said goodbye to my best friend of 10 years, and my girlfriend of 3. Both of them suggested that I was not being rational and should take psychiatric help. I displayed shock and utter disgust at their suggestion. I told them that only people with something wrong in their basic mental functions took psychiatric help, and that I would get through this by myself. The truth was that I was already getting help through phone from a shrink at the town I'm moving to, for the purpose of helping me to get over my cat. But I could never tell them that. They wouldn't understand.

Journal Entry 61:
I've finally completed my move and am ready to begin writing my journals again. I'm positive that one day someone would come along and discover these texts and proclaim me, posthumously, a genius in my own right. My neighbours are very nice, but very weird. They have a little boy who's around the age of seven. They greeted me with a large chocolate cake. I invited them in and gave them a soda each, which I thought was very nice and social of me, very neighbourly. I was very hungry myself so I helped myself to a large slice of the chocolate cake. I complimented on it to the missus. The little girl, as she turned out to be, said she would like some cake. She tried to black mail me by adding a please at the end. I looked at the parents, the child and told them that I would like them to leave right now. I thought it was a rude thing the little girl did.

Journal 64:
THE CHOCOLATE CAKE IS ALIVE THE CAKE IS ALIVE THE CAKE IS FREAKING ALIVE OH DEAR GOD OF ALL THE HEAVENS THE CAKE IS ALIVE AND IT WANTS TO KILL ME OHGODPLEASEHELPMEHLPEMHELPMEHE

Journal 65:
!! THIEVES! Somebody broke into my house last night and ate my chocolate cake! And they had the audacity to write obscene stupidity on my journal, as written in entry 64. Not only that, they smeared some of the chocolate on my hand and face to mock me! I have reported the incident to the police but they didn't take me seriously and said that I had no proof of burglary. I told them that the lack of a chocolate cake was proof enough. They pointedly looked at me and glared. Then said in a menacing voice, “Mister Sar Kazm, the stains on your fingers, shirt, pants and your face can also be proof enough.” I looked at them incredulously and said didn't know what they were talking about. Light seemed to dawn on them and they bought me a nice big chocolate cake and sent me on my way. Finding no further reason to object, I returned to my home and enjoyed my chocolate cake.

Journal 66:
This guy came to me today and said that he would like to buy a piece of my soul. I said that I didn't believe in a soul. And that he could have it. He said he'd send over a chocolate cake everyday. I realized he was a madman. He was even wearing those silly horns on this head. I signed a paper and he disappeared in a puff of smoke. Amateur magicians.

Shortly after, a chocolate cake was delivered to me. I ate it enthusiastically and found myself wanting more. Shortly after, a chocolate cake was delivered to me. I ate it heartily and found myself wanting more. I was reflecting on an acute sense of déjà vu, just when the doorball rang. I found a little box with a glass ball inside. It glowed in funky colors. There was a note, it said, “Sorry. No deal.” I frowned and decided to go back to the chocolate cake I found on my dining table.

By Emil

The delicate art of borrowing

The global economic crisis is the talk of the world in recent times. Who are the sufferers? Yes, it is us, the teenagers. To counter the problems regarding the vacuum in our pockets we have to take up loans.

It is easy to say but difficult to achieve. It is a sacred art, one that dates back to time immemorial. Starting from the stones and the clubs those ancient men loaned each other, loaning ranges from simple money to pen and paper and what not. So it is very important to be able to convince people to give loans to you when you need something very dearly. One thing to remember: you have got to have your own style. No great borrower can teach you this art form, you have to learn it yourself and apply according to the situation.

A proverb goes: he who hesitates is lost. This is very much true for taking loans. This is the knowledge all loan-takers have gained through hardship and suffering. If you are not sure of your own desires and words, then loans may come, but in a hard way. Never be indecisive, ask straight out what you want. Do not be ashamed of your needs, every one has a lack of something or another.

Now one thing that matters greatly, if not most: flattery. Most of the people think that it is flattery that can solve the problem. This is not always correct. Flattery needs to be careful. If you grease someone excessively your needs may slide over him. No frictional force to help your cause. So there should be a limit to the flattery. I am not saying that flattery is absolutely prohibited but you should exercise caution.

There are some very intelligent people out there, who are like water. All those oils never mix with them, so your smooth talks may go in vain. There are separate ways to convince them and vaporize their coolness. You have to ask them indifferently like “Yo, give me ten bucks now.” This throws them off balance and may accidentally bring success.

Asking indifferently helps other times also. Sometimes the initial remarks don’t work very well. In this case the surprise factor comes into play. Show a very busy attitude and ask directly: “Any money with you? I need some.”

Now some talk about the prologue. Donft start with your misfortunes. Other people have those also, and the rich more than others. Imagine the scenario: you are talking about all those injustices done to you to get his sympathy and loans just when he starts telling you his. And most dangerous, he may ask for some money from you. That hurts. Be cheerful.

But not after you are rejected. The potential borrower may fall for your miserable face. Thank a person profoundly, that opens up the possibility of future loans, whether you get it or not.

And last of all remember to pay back. That is very important.

Now send me some money orders would you, via e-mail? I promise I will forever be indebted to you. Oh yes, thatfs one thing you should not say. Cheers.
(Thanks to Dhar by Ashab Uddin Ahmed)

By Jawad Mahmud