Secret fucking Santa.

It that time of the year to be happy already.

Fuck.

Assholes are popping into our basement.

Last night there was a bahn chodh (sister fucker)

Came in asking for a book, a gift.

Shutters were down and i was on my way out,

Be nice.

What kind of a book?

Something spiritual.

Suggest a couple of books.

Too expensive, have a budget.

Which is?

50 Rupees.

For a gift?

Yes, secret santa.

I tell the man he is selecting a book as a gift, the choice needs to be about the content not the price, a budget is fine yes but the one you have will not get you shit.

Oh,

I will take this book for myself then (Autobiography of yogi 69 rupees)

You know in my wife’s company they reimburse the amount. (150 rupees)

Fuck.

I ask the man where he is from not really to insult his ethnicity but just to know where the fuck such a cheap bastard would come from.

Kolkotta…

Today a lady walked in with her little daughter asking us if we had any magazines for adults.

My immediate thought was magazines which adults read, let us try and sell one of the three literary magazines we have.

She then says Adult magazine, humor for adults.

Fuck.

Sometimes I just miss the plot completely.

She then says it is a secret santa, gift for a female colleague of hers.

Cool.

I suggest erotica and pick up Nancy friday’s Secret garden, not really funny but awesome nonetheless.

She decides on picking the book and i narrate last nights experience with the cheap bahn chodh (sister fucker)

While writing out a bill, i ask the little lady if she needed anything.

She smiles and looks at her mum, mum picks up a kid friendly A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

I tell her she can leave a note for the colleague that she can exchange the book when she is done.

The lady says that is not going to happen, she is going to borrow the book once her colleague is done.

Nice.

Secret fucking santa. Bah Humbug.

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