It is Saturday and as I dress leisurely I am singing under my breath. This is the day I look forward to all week. The day I venture out into the wild, wild world of the bazaar to put one over on the natives.
I wonder if the polka dot shirt
is too formal
Stepping forth with rare fortitude and courage into the vegetable market I approach the vendor of potatoes and onions. I start haggling even before she has quoted. One has to be firm with these people. After argument and counter-argument she sighs in defeat and triumphantly paying her my price I plonk the purchase into my basket. But even as I step away flushed with victory I overhear the wretched woman quoting a much lower price to the next customer. I shudder to think how Mother will dice me along with the potatoes.
as a nurse mentions tubers
health check up
A moment later finds me examining the fresh fish displayed by a monger. When he quotes I act as though shocked to the core. I point out to the good man that this is highway robbery. He whimpers and whines that they are indeed large specimens of the species. Relenting, I shell out the money and head homeward.
the way the geography teacher
twirls the globe
Hauling the catch up the three flights of stairs to the old home I am greeted with a Basilisk’s glare. From the mater. Having listened with a patient smile to her criticism of the price paid for the onions, I dip into the seafood packet with a complacent smirk. What I do draw out of the container however ate two tiny specimens of the much touted pompfret. I gape at Mother with fishlike eyes. And I realize for the thousandth time what a cruel world this is.
……..a crab reaches out
for my fingers