Sunday ho ya err....

Vicious fires had enveloped me ,I felt suffocated,panting for air, I tried to run but apparently i was no good.what sins had i commited to deserve hell ? Just when i was about to be incinerated to human debris, suddenly a flurry the cacophonic beeps jolted me.After a frantic search operation i saw it was my motorola screaming its batteries out.I opened my eyes trying to embrace the world ,but the poor ones struggled to adjust to the gleaming sunlight and consequently fluttered trying in vain to figure out what exactly was going on.I realised that the makeshift curtain was dangling for its life on the pelmet admitting the most blinding sunlight straight on to my face.The fan hung lifelessly on the cieling as the daily ritual of the 7 a.m power cut 7 had commenced.
I flung my t shirt to one corner and laid bare,trying to teleport my self back to the world of fairies (deepika padukone in my case) again.Just as my eyes shut my brain cells launched an enquiry,why,why did the alarm beep? it signified something,something very morbid.It was the day after sunday.No its got to be a lie ,the heart retaliated , by pounding viciously at my chest from the insides.It was just yesterday,the friday night when i was gyrating in an intoxicated state to "smack that all on the floor ".Duh , Only if saturday and sunday were 48 hours each.Truth had befallen me , my stomach churned, i started feeling sick.The countdown i begin every week had to be reset to 5,the monday morning blues had turned me pale.Resigning to my fate i somehow managed to get the clothes on my zombie like structure with each step demanding a zillion times more enery it demands on friday mornings . To complete the enslavement i put on the leash, a tie which we address as a 'fanda'.
The bike trudged along and i made it a point not to let the speedometer beat the 30 mark.I frequent this activity enroute office,it lets me savour 10 mins of my life but not the embarassement of being late. Not ready to see the piece of celluloid that assigns me work,i decided to dump my self with everything edible available in the food court and at the same time conforming to the chew-your-food-32 times rule.20 minutes and a bloated tummy later i discovered that my misery only got aggravated.Ultimately i convinced myself that there is no more running away and i dragged myself to the hellhole i call my cubicle.
Nerdy rotund masses of flesh were already there smirking , giving me dirty glances reminding me of the sacrilege id commited coming late to their temple.These no-lifes have a pack of cookies and a coffee mug filled up to the brim , eveready on their desk,because may be if they decide to go to the food court , the manager might get hints of their incompetence.They strictly believe doubling the mandatory hours to be clocked is the only way to climb the ladder which is the entry to the managers coveted arse hole.Very smugly yet frivolously one of them mentioned how he had to come both the weekends to finish the work assignedand patiently waited for me to arch both my eyebrows as high as humanely possible symbolizing appreciation coupled with generous scoops of unbelievability satiating him of the superhuman act he had commited.I obliged ,and with a sparkle in his eye,oozing of contentment he got back to beating the dayslights out of the hapless keyborad.
I hesitantly opened the mailbox,fogetting the atheism i preach most of the time and chanting gods name at a rapid rate praying that no work should yet be assigned to me ,after all, like me the rest of the world has also come out from a sunday full of gaiety and are not yet ready to work. Shattering all my self convincing inane beliefs mails demanding the culmination of certain tasks before eod(end of the day)had flooded my mailbox.Umpteen fowarded mails claiming that females wearing the skimpiest of clothings had been captured in them and their degree of beauty till date was unsurpassed .They were begging to be opened , but i persevered,keeping them as a reward once i finished the work assigned.

Update:Its 7 p.m.Lunch was a sad 20 min affair.The pretty females in the mails must be fully clad in nightware ,brutually tired ,waiting for their owner to give them his nod of appreciation, they must be surely asleep by now .The gang of no-lifes are having their 16th coffee break of the day and are in no hurry watsoever to leave,as the last bus leaves at 11 handing them another four hours to complete the work which incidentally, they should have finished the number of times they have had coffee today.I have another couple of hours to freedom and precisly another 12 till my cellphone decides to play the spine tingling beeps again cataplulting me to this world of gruesome reality.