Saturday 28 November 2009
Doma that spits authority
The village magistrate sat on a throne, which resembled a miniature hilltop, and him like some proverbial deity, on it.
Somewhere below, which probably would remind you of a vast valley, stood, similar to a dot, our hero with his kabney on.
On this particular day, our hero had frightful back pain, and in an ill-fated turn of events, our deity on the hilltop noticed it with no uncertain terms that our hero was not bowing to him in a way of respect.
This triggered the wrath of the deity on the hilltop that our hero could literally count the doma spits liberating out of the hilltop deity.
This doma that spits of authority now lay all over the place.
Of course, the distance between our characters was some light-years away, but our hero had that gift of an extraordinary vision that he could account for all the remains of doma that came out of the doma-stained mouth of our hilltop deity.
For the first few moments, he exactly counted the doma dregs to what we usually refer to as number thirty. As the world has it, upon continual repetition, we lose interest in even the most interesting things in life that; our hero stopped counting the fragments emanating from our deity.
“So, it was your cow?” fumed our hilltop deity.
Before our hero could answer, a few doma spits landed safely on his extended forehead, which had receded harshly over time.
“Yes, your honor” was all he could manage than a new batch of doma had landed on his nose, which accommodated quite a hefty amount of it.
From the corner of our hero’s eyes, he saw the hilltop deity refill his authority, this time with a bigger nut and a large leaf of pan, on which, lime was carelessly spread over.
“Why is your cow without any manners?” our magistrate challenged.
“Didn’t it pay you its respect, my lord” came at the tip of our hero’s tongue, out of his innocence, but he calculated not to speak it aloud.
Sometimes, it doesn’t pay off to be stupid.
Instead, he humbled down with “I deeply apologize for my cow’s ill manners”
“Yeah, ill manners! You say it right! Shitting all over the place!”
The cow had started acting weird and erratic in the last few days, our hero agreed, with it shitting all over the place.
Just a few days before the magistrate had issued orders to summon our hero in the court, the cow had shat frantically all over the place in the village.
This, in a way, had challenged the hilltop deity at length to his doma-spitting expeditions!
“You shall clean the village of your cow’s excretion within one day” and the court was adjourned abruptly.
The hilltop deity, with doma spits that came shooting at our hero, employed fewer words with more authority again.
Our hero walked out of the courtroom with more cleaning to be done on his bearing than the village of his cow’s shit!
Somewhere below, which probably would remind you of a vast valley, stood, similar to a dot, our hero with his kabney on.
On this particular day, our hero had frightful back pain, and in an ill-fated turn of events, our deity on the hilltop noticed it with no uncertain terms that our hero was not bowing to him in a way of respect.
This triggered the wrath of the deity on the hilltop that our hero could literally count the doma spits liberating out of the hilltop deity.
This doma that spits of authority now lay all over the place.
Of course, the distance between our characters was some light-years away, but our hero had that gift of an extraordinary vision that he could account for all the remains of doma that came out of the doma-stained mouth of our hilltop deity.
For the first few moments, he exactly counted the doma dregs to what we usually refer to as number thirty. As the world has it, upon continual repetition, we lose interest in even the most interesting things in life that; our hero stopped counting the fragments emanating from our deity.
“So, it was your cow?” fumed our hilltop deity.
Before our hero could answer, a few doma spits landed safely on his extended forehead, which had receded harshly over time.
“Yes, your honor” was all he could manage than a new batch of doma had landed on his nose, which accommodated quite a hefty amount of it.
From the corner of our hero’s eyes, he saw the hilltop deity refill his authority, this time with a bigger nut and a large leaf of pan, on which, lime was carelessly spread over.
“Why is your cow without any manners?” our magistrate challenged.
“Didn’t it pay you its respect, my lord” came at the tip of our hero’s tongue, out of his innocence, but he calculated not to speak it aloud.
Sometimes, it doesn’t pay off to be stupid.
Instead, he humbled down with “I deeply apologize for my cow’s ill manners”
“Yeah, ill manners! You say it right! Shitting all over the place!”
The cow had started acting weird and erratic in the last few days, our hero agreed, with it shitting all over the place.
Just a few days before the magistrate had issued orders to summon our hero in the court, the cow had shat frantically all over the place in the village.
This, in a way, had challenged the hilltop deity at length to his doma-spitting expeditions!
“You shall clean the village of your cow’s excretion within one day” and the court was adjourned abruptly.
The hilltop deity, with doma spits that came shooting at our hero, employed fewer words with more authority again.
Our hero walked out of the courtroom with more cleaning to be done on his bearing than the village of his cow’s shit!
# posted by Sonam Phuntsho @ Saturday, November 28, 2009 
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