Reaps Gives Deets

Untitled Part 5

(Thank you... I don't know how I could have managed without you)

[Hmmpf...]

{Oh... it's nothing... you know, you can count on me for such things, whenever you need}

(Yes, indeed. See you around.)

[Hmmpf.]

(Yeah, just hearing it got me strange sensations. Just imagine what if I was the one who told him?)

[Hmmpf.]

(His name?... Johnny something. Bless his soul... or whatever you call it here... what, it's still called soul...unbelieva-)

Jeremy walked at a stubborn pace, the shock still prevalent in his mind. Carl, the very Carl, the Carl who was with a head last time he saw but not anymore. Such things are simply unimaginable. Oh, the stark horror. He had never even seen so much as a simple illustrated beheaded neck before. The idea waa simply bonechilling. Even though he was about to be eighteen now, he wasn't obliged to be exposed to such madness.

What had Carl done to anyone, to deserve such a bloody death? It seemed so unreal. Only yesterday, he had been wishing him centenarian's death. He was completely broken. All the memories of Carl was engulfing his throat, the spontaneous sadness eating his lining.

Beside him, walked a silent Stace. If she cracked that joke now, maybe he would feel better. But she was as devastated as hurricane struck town.

Carl, her friend from the early ages. Lovely Carl, her best friend who had once dressed up as Malory the Milkman, and on winning the 11th Fancy Dress Competition, in excitement, emptied the milk canister on the judges. Oh, dear funny Carl, her friend who could have been more than a friend.

Her dad was a childhood friend of Carl's mom. Both were ignorant of each other living in the same town. Then one day, when Carl said that he had a good friend named Stacey and the parents had met to get an immense shock. Their friendship had only grown more close from there. They both always had someone else in their group, but no one was as close as to be employed in their silly secrets and stuff. Then came along Jeremy.

Carl was a master pranker. He planned everything in a moment, if he had the will.

"Stace" Carl asked,"that Jeremy, that guy, spoke nicely, don't you think?"

"Absoutely, it was such a nice introduction, probably something I have never heard before. He must be a good story writer."

"Yes, he must be. What do you say, shall we do it?"

"Do what?" Stacey's eyes grew wide. She knew what he meant, yet played along.

"The Ultimate Friendship Initiator Prank. The Yufip."

Stacey's bright eyes needn't need an answer.

So they went along, somehow convincing Jerk Master too for a cameo appearance, and the Backbencher Parthiban. He was an Indian but absolutely hated the front bench. "Breaking stereotypes" he says.

He hated turban.

"Why? You guys wear turban all the time."

"Correction, I am from South. We never wear turban, you know how hot it gets in summer, heck even in winter, sweat can reach dirty places, yuck"

"Yeah, yuck, but we need a small moment of turbanism"

He had taken some moment, apparently wanting to enjoy this figurative who's-the-boss-now moment, which he knew would never be got from these people, no matter how polished he may speak.

A nod. "Love you, what do you say, masaan?"

"Yeah, machan." Wow, maybe it wasn't about superiority at all, unlike what his parents said to him.