there were four of them, na?

The talk goes on, dredging out the details of light-cone systems and Kruskal coordinates. Everyone is immersed in their own personal stupor, a glassy stare on their eyes.

The invigilators keep asking questions, albeit in a half-hearted manner, asking away because they have to, because they not what else to do. He answers them dutifully, not proceeding until each and every one of the  pop-eyed astigmatic asthmatic wheezing fat slobs is satisfied. He may be getting more and more frustrated, but he doesn't show it.

That's the problem with these strong, silent people. The questioners keep on questioning, as they would. And finally, he snaps. With a half-snarl half-cry, he jumps forward, removing a knife from his pocket. "Its the bloody Killing vector!!", he screams in his frenzy, and proceeds to butcher everyone in the small classroom.

Moral of the story: Don't give string theorists knives. Or forks. Or free karate lessons. 

drabble #2: double dribble, er, drabble

"So sad. Ah well, back to work. Its always someone else. But its a completely different matter if it happens to you.", said the voice at the other end of the phone.

"But what happened? I didn't hear from you all day. Was it an accident?", I asked, worried.

"Nah, nothing like that. Those things happen to other people."

"Then what? You fell in love, didn't you?"

"For what, the millionth time? How is that even a new occurrence?"

"Then what? Got stuck in the rain without an umbrella?"

"No."

"Got pushed out of the train by an angry woman with three babies, one on each arm, and the third dangling by her neck with a cartload of fish by her side?"

"No."
I could feel her smiling that wry smile of hers on the other side of the receiver.

"At least give me a hint. Is it good or bad?"

"Well, its not a particularly nice experience..."

"Theft?"

"No."

"Fraud."

"No."

"Rape?"

"No! Have you gone nuts?"

"I give up. What happened? Tell me. Else I shall die of either impatience or old age. Most probably old age. But still..."

"Nope. Guess."

"Oh, come on..."

"Loose motion..."

Drabble #!: On drabbles

All right, so I join the bandwaggon.
-----------------------------------

#1:

"Dribble drabble wibble wabble piddle pop pop.
Twiddle diddle with a fiddle in the fiddle shop."

He placed the piece of parchment on the table, stood up, and critically appraised his work. Not satisfied, he reached into his coat-pocket, and from within withdrawing a monocle, affixed the same upon his eye.

Afresh, he gazed at the paper, then reassembling his features into a not unkindly smile, he folded it up and tucked it into the recesses from whence the monocle had come.

And then he sauntered off towards the dining hall, to display the product of his latest artistic excesses.