Murder... (not) most foul...

When I woke this morning, I saw a murder. Right outside my living room window! It was bad enough that today, being a day after India's 64th Republic Day, there were no newspapers! But to see a murder?!!

Thankfully, this was an unusually quiet murder - no noise, at all. You could actually hear a pin drop.

The wife, in the kitchen, getting my morning dose of filter cofee, made a lot of noise when I called her to see what I was seeing - "Rohini", I called, "come here, look out of this window. There's a murder happening right now!" So she came, noisily, eyes blazing full on, all agog and excited.

"Murder?" she asked, "What murder? Where?" 

I pointed. Outside my window. There's that rain tree? I said "Look, there?"

Her voice went up a few more decibels. A higher octave altogether. "What?! Those crows?!! I can see only crows!" 

So I asked her, laughingly, "How many do you see?"

There were a large enough number to safely say that one needed more than the fingers of both hands..... perhaps around 15 or 16. So I said to her, "What do you call a large number of crows?"

Those wide eyes went impossibly wider, that voice even one octave more as she did a small gig in excitement.... "Aaaaaaaaahhhaaaaa?!! A MURDER of crows?!!!!"

My coffee tasted a wee bit more fresh this morning. :)

From the Strange, Weird Land of my Dreams

The fortress was on a cliff overlooking a rocky bay. 300 feet below, waves crashed onto the shore, leaving a milky froth that smoked and spewed. 

The rampart walls had little opening for archers to shoot flaming arrows out. But that is an aside. 

I'm scared of heights. Terrified, is a better description. 

I was crouched, knees bent, looking down at the waves crashing far beneath me. 

I was crouched, as I said, knees bent. On the OUTSIDE, my back to the wall. Sweating in terror. Holding on for dear life. Not with my hands. 

My BACK to the wall, pressed into it. My feet resting on two half foot long bricks protruding out of the fort's wall. 

In my hands a fucking pressure cooker. Which I'm washing, scrubbing, removing the grease, using rain water flowing down a gutter. 

Using both hands i throw the now cleaned cooker over my shoulder, up across the wall, and hear it plonk perfectly into place. 

I smile in relief and then fall. The ocean rushes up to swallow me.

I'm piss terrified and feel my bladder open loose.

Eyes snap open. Need to pee.

Dream over. 3:13 a.m.