Lyaad.

Yesterday was like, good, proper, onek phunnz. The afternoon mostly. Dhrubo and me, as always. After dada clinched a half~century and Lil' Master got stumped, we jogged out, indecisive, vulnerable and hungry for lots of lyaad. Gold flakes edged us onto Park Street and with semi~diluted large pegs of burning Old Monk inside our intestines, kurtsy good ol' molly holly Oly Pub, we set out for Gorer Math. Tumultously fiery chicken rolls and incinerated Benson Hedges cancer sticks brought out the smoking poetic talent in mah gay buddy too. Alongwith songs like Mitwa.KANK*eesh* and Kisna.Kisna*barf* we could have hardly asked for more. Yet, with the Gorer Math, impossible is nothing.
Just imagine.
"A smouldering speck in the blue couture,
Flies on, far, far away.
Zeus rests on His snowy lil' throne,
Amidst the cirrus and the cumulonimbus in some distant, Milky Way."
All we missed out on was the lebu cha. I mean, how can you NOT have lebu cha after sprawling on the Maidan for the better part of an hour, you tell me?
Dhut.
We also smoked up our last Navy Cut cigarettes till Sanskriti and paid our tribute by frenchkissing the burning ends, preserving our stubs in the matchbox and throwing it far, far away. Then with the mitha paan at Charu Market to tie up the loose ends of odour, I received Riadi's call and booked myself a Slayer tee.
Woah.
Halew'd awesome shaet.