Some times we do book buying house calls (depending on the quantity of books till this exceptional visit to an IT dudes house in Whitefield).
For the folks that stay in the Bangalore city – Whitefield is far out, at least an hour drive) in response to a call for sale of six boxes of books. Now when a person says six boxes of books there must be a sizable selection of stuff which we would like to have at the store.
There were six boxes – full of shit. I kid you not, there were examination preparation manuals – 3-4 boxes, a few books on religion (Wgh), a few pulp fiction titles Ugh Ugh), some crappy self help books (Ugh, Ugh, Ugh), a whole bunch of bad quality cyclostyle books (which we do not stock) and a big fat dictionary.
Got into an argument with the guy about calling someone to buy books when there were hardly any books. He points to the mound of papers and scarce books and says these are books, you do not want to take what I have. IT dude asks me to take what I want, I pick up the dictionary (hell that was the only book from the “six boxes of books”.
The man blocks me from trying to take the book (seriously this shit is real). The man’s lungi clad father also gets in to block me from taking the one fucking book that I wanted to take (having come all the way from town). While thinking about this fucking ridiculous tag team blocking a bookseller from buying a fucking dictionary in third person perspective – the dad lets one rip – frrrrrrrrrttttppp (yuck that sounded like a wet one – here comes the smell)
I leave empty handed leaving the tag team in a cloud of CH4 next to a mound of shitty pulp.
Six boxes of books or just some wet flatulence ?