Category: The outre side (Page 1 of 2)

A rich trove of fossils has been discovered while a farmer was ploughing a field for a crop of groundnuts in a field in gummadipoondi. This has dropped a stone into the still pond of dinosaur studies. Here are the new dinos.

Brontosgrandadspapasaurus (a really big one)

Aethreeaityforbreicfaustosaurus (another really big one)

Objectivorous Gigantiferous tantamountosaurus (it ate stuff, was big, and that’s about it)

Philosiraptor (it had razor sharp wisdom teeth)

Dupeterosaurus (it laid its eggs in pterosaurus nests)

Petrosaurus (it later became fossil fuel)

Bergosaurus (it led to a big spiel about dinosaurs in later times)

Dinonosaurus (a dinosaur, but not all that terrible)

Diohnosaurus (it was truly terrible)

Dodosaurus (it’s extinct)

Dinosareus (inspired a popular toy)

Stupendosaurus (so big it had to stoop to get into places)

Dianasaurus (became rather famous after it died out)

Thesaurus (the definitive dinosaur)

There is a door in this world, to another world.

You can easily pass through this door into the other world.

The catch is that once you have passed into the other world, you will acquire a new identity, new memories, new ideas. You will forget all about the older you. You will think the new you is the older you. You will also forget all about the door.

The most troubling bit about all this is that you may already have walked through that doorway.

There is only one way to tell…no, not really. You’ll never know.

The man’s body had given up long ago. It was only his perverse, sadistic mind that made him keep on. He plodded through the desert, lifting one heavy foot after another. The sand sucked at his feet, the sun sucked at his soul. There was no moisture left in him for sweat. He ran a tongue that felt like sand paper over his parched lips. He stopped, swaying a little. This might be a good spot. As good as any. To lie down and die. He looked up for a moment, preparatory to closing his eyes and calling it a life. He froze. There, in the distance, a nearly impossible distance, about twenty feet away, was a refrigerator. It had a glass door, and he could see misty condensed air swirling in it, and row upon row of bottles. Water, mostly, and some coloured sugary drinks too. He reached it, after an eternity. He was going to open it, when he noticed the combination lock. And a small post-it note on the glass alongside the lock.

He was light headed and weak, and it took far too much time, but he read the note:

 ‘The key: 3 digits.  

For the first number, solve this sequence: 7, 5, 8, 4, 9, 3, ?

For the second digit, answer this question: How many toes does a Grioprifiliosaurus have?

For the third digit, what is the 40^th number after the decimal point in the value of pi?’

He leaned tiredly against the glass door of the refrigerator. It felt unbelievably cold. There was only one explanation. He had already fallen and this was a dream, come to entertain him while he was waiting for oblivion. Real life could not be so cruel.

Now he looked up and saw that a new character had appeared in the dream.

A desert dweller, on his camel. He looked down upon the man, his expression unreadable. Then he slid off the camel, strode up to the refrigerator, pushed the man aside, firmly but not rudely, pulled the door open, reached in, took out a bottle of cola, opened it with his teeth, emptied it in one gulp, and threw it away. He looked at the man strangely again, mounted his camel, and rode away.

The man stared after him for a long time. Then he nodded to himself. The desert dweller was unlettered and could not read. That explained it.

“Is it always the same?” said the doctor.

“Yes doctor,” said the patient.

“Let me see,” said the doctor, consulting his notes. “A three legged, long nosed, five armed creature with protuberant eyes, and an indigo tongue with which it appears to occasionally lick its long ears, which resemble those of a rabbit. It seems a little perplexed, worried even, as if it doesn’t know what exactly it is doing, hovering over your left shoulder. It is lemon yellow all over and has a slight paunch. It is about a foot tall. You were shaving when you first noticed it, in the mirror. You blinked repeatedly, but the apparition persisted. You have never before in your life suffered from hallucinations. Is all that correct?”

“Yes, doctor, exactly,” said the patient. “Except for the colour. It is a leaf green, rather than lemon yellow, I would say.”

The doctor peered at the air above the patient’s left shoulder. He blinked and leaned forward for a closer look.

“Hmm, I really must beg to differ, Mr. D,” he said. “There is no doubt at all that it is lemon yellow.”

An idea in the moon’s cool light,
This night, frolics in a winsome frock
Nymphal freshness clad in vestal white.
At this hour, a small one, says the clock
To bed and to glorious, delirious dreams
Accolades, trophies, cheers and what not.
In the morning, the punctual sun beams
Warmly down upon the scribbled thought
Of the night before, and it is like snow
Like early mist, like an ice cream sundae.
The brilliance, the effulgent glow
The sheer genius of it, all melted away.

“Since when have you had this problem?” said the psychiatrist.

“I don’t remember,” said the patient.

“How did it happen? Anything specific that caused it? A bump on the head maybe? A violent sneeze?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Does anyone in your family remember? Or any of your friends?”

“I don’t know if I have a family. Or friends.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t remember any of them.”

“The last time you were here, you said…”

“I’ve been here before now?”

“Yes. And the last time you were here, you said…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t remember.”