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The Sink (standard:Satire, 1927 words)
Author: Ashok GurumurthyAdded: Mar 18 2005Views/Reads: 2368/1275Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A parody of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead.

Hoggart D'Pork scanned the sea, which the cliff he was standing
on—naked—overlooked, and the splendid blue of the water, which had a 
tranquillizing effect on even the most belligerent men, paled 
insignificant compared with the fiery azure spot in his eyes where one 
would expect to find the pupil. Earthly fires, usually a shade of red, 
were no match for that deadly azure of his eyes; just as blue stars are 
hotter than red ones. The fire in his eyes had a quality of sedateness. 
It was a fire that didn't consume everything oxidizable hard-by, didn't 
spread like a common forest fire, didn't have flames that seem to tease 
the object about to be charred to ashes by first licking it, didn't 
heat up its surroundings, and didn't produce the green-house gas carbon 
dioxide; its promise of total annihilation of the spirit—apparent to 
any earthly eye that happened to catch sight of it—was as ominous as a 
thousand vultures zeroing in on a corpse. 

Anyone who lapsed into looking into the light-capturing, fire-exuding
azure eyes had to face the severest rebuke, the harshest callous 
indifference, the coldest reprimanding lava-stare and an aspect as 
polite as the rebuke was severe, the indifference was harshly callous, 
and the lava-stare was coldly reprimanding. The feeling this 
wonderstruck beholder had was that of a child lost in a desert seeing 
thousands of wolves hurtling towards him from the sky, to be 
immediately followed by a stabbing fear lest only the politeness should 
be real and the rest, cold-induced hallucination, the coldness 
belonging to the blue of the eyes. 

Standing with his arms raised above his head and joined at the palm, he
prepared for the dive. Then suddenly his left foot slipped upsetting 
his balance. He tried sitting by bringing both hands down to get a 
grip, but failed. He was falling freely into the water—feet first. In 
spite of the unnerving accident, he soon regained control mid-air and 
managed to offer a streamlined body to the water. He was a skilful 
swimmer and had little trouble reaching the beach that was a few 
hundred metres away, where the only man-made things were his clothes 
and towel. He quickly dried and clothed himself. Then, in brisk steps, 
he headed for the club. 


Monica was Reid Seat-Sting's girlfriend and passionately hated him. She
was aware though that he had a certain charm that tourists found 
captivating, and which made him a huge success in his business. Her 
true love, Hoggart, had repeatedly failed to charm anyone, much to her 
chagrin. Her feelings Reid was conscious of, but he simply didn't care; 
Hoggart could only just support himself financially and there was no 
threat to his position as her suitor. 

What he did not know was that what little Hoggart had had come from the
pawnbroker in exchange for the "mementoes of love" that he continually 
felt compelled to vouchsafe to Monica. 

The pair, whose engagement had been put off seven times in as many
months, was now seated in a table for three at the Cafe Stupendous 
attached to the club. Both were members, and so was Hoggart. Shortly 
Hoggart arrived and joined them at the table quietly slipping into the 
empty chair. 

Reid, contempt plain in his voice, said to Hoggart 'So you were fired?' 

'No-one fires me; my employee status was terminated' said Hoggart,
betraying no emotion. 

'Did you ask to be put out of collar?' 


'Then you were fired. Your ideas upon the word are evidently wrong.' 

'You sound very sure.' 

'That's because I am.' 

'As I understand it, the employer fires the employee if he's displeased
with him. So it is an act of volition, the employee's displeasing the 
employer. So essentially inviting termination of employment is the 

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