I know what you did....

For 3WW LXXXI


Funny
Remember
Theatre





A message flashed on his mobile at about Two A.M. He cursed himself for not switching his mobile phone to the silent mode before going to sleep. Getting up to the cries of an alarm anyway wasn't his idea of beginning of ideal day.

'?@#$%/' he cried aloud and looked at the screen of his mobile. The message was from a pal.

'I know what you did..... he read the message aloud a couple of times.

'What was that supposed to mean! What did I do? Oh! May be it's just a prank.' He went back to bed and stared at the ceiling.

'Now don't tell me it's THAT. Did someone watch me doing it? Oh God! %$#@&^#@***>?' he shouted. 'Hey, wait a minute. What have I done? I am just getting carried away with this whole thing.'

The message had turned him into an insomniac (atleast for the night).

'Try and Remember. Remember.

After worrying for several hours, he tried to recall some 'deeds' that he might have done, he picked up a piece of paper and started writing down the prospective accusations. He wanted to be prepared and defend himself 'for what he did'. But there was only one problem; he didn't know 'what he did' yet. At about six o clock in the morning he wrote:


Confessions

1. I dig my nose when I am alone in the lift.

2. I have shoplifted about three times in my life and never been caught even once.

3. I build up stories about my childhood days to impress upon girl pals (they always say it's cute).

4. And I hate spending money over gifts. I just wrap the old and discarded gifts in beautiful paper and give them away.

The mobile rang again at seven O clock, it was a message signal. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief at the message from the same pal.

'I know what you did last Friday at the theater . It was Funny. Sam told me. :) :)

'Theater? Friday? What.... ' The recollection came quick. It was only last Friday that they had been to the theater with some like minded friends who loved operas. That day they watched 'Madama Butterfly' (Madam Butterfly). It was an Italian tragic opera by Giacomo Puccini and he had cried buckets while his friends among giggles threw sympathetic glances occasionally.

He opened the previous message that arrived at Two A.M to disturb his blissful sleep.

'I know what you did....









Error in message.'


'?@#$%&^#%$. I forgot to scroll down. But hey what the %$#%$^&*' He took a sigh of relief as he began a seemingly endless list of insults over the network.