The red ants and the Bikini girl incident. OR Why my brain left me for someone else !

It’s times like these I honestly believe that I need to get my head checked for some sort of messed up wiring. This seems to be happening a lot more often these days. Let me explain why this time I’m pretty serious about actually getting a scan done on the noggin. As I said earlier, the college has put us up at this really nice beach resort but has ensured we don’t have a good time by overburdening us with assignments and a grotesque volume of pre-reads. During the initial couple of days, most of the students spent time on the beach, playing volleyball. ( I can confidently say that I frightened a lot of the women when I decided to take my shirt off and play….. strike ‘one’ more towards remaining single forever) Anyway, after a fairly energetic game, I hit the pool which was absolute heaven in this heat. Once done with the pool, yours truly decided that it would be nice to dry off on the beach and let the sea breeze from the Bay of Bengal do its thing.

So far, it has been good. Barring the ‘shirt-off’ incident…catastrophe more like it. I’m enjoying the nice evening breeze when all of a sudden I feel tiny bites on my leg at multiple points. It turns out that in my pensive state of staring out into an endless sea contemplating the days to come, I was standing on a mini anthill infested with red ants. Quite peeved with my intruding onto their home, the ants decided it was time for some payback and I guess you know what followed.

I ran towards the shower near the pool so that I could wash the tiny buggers off my leg before they crawl up any higher and bite. So there I am, standing under the shower trying desperately to wash them off. Out of the blue, right behind me, I hear a very sweet voice of a woman with a tinge of a French asking me if she could use the shower. And that’s where my brains decided that they didn’t want to work. I turn around to see this very well toned lady in a bikini which accentuated her figure. Always being the Christian gentleman my parents raised me to be, I quite happily stepped aside.

So the scene plays on, good looking French girl in her bikini is showering down before hitting the pool and yours truly is standing on the side facing the opposite direction. It would have been really uncanny had I stared. Where were the red ants during all of this? Well, they’re still munching off bits of flesh on my leg. (Excuse the Indiana Jones exaggeration). And I’m all blissfully unaware. I’m sure my soul wanted to leave my body and go elsewhere now rendering me dead for falling so low in life. It was only a good 3 minutes after the woman started showering that I realized the primary reason I was under the shower in the first place. And then like a violent inferno, my leg started burning and I’m trying not to scratch it….well…because that would be so uncool and disgusting in front of the nice French lady. Who knows…she might be checking out the tattoos? ( Optimism will be the death of me one day)

And why is it at moments like this time seems to slow down, I’m standing there all fidgety and the woman just refuses to stop showering…come on already…you’re going to get wet in the pool. A good 5 minutes before she leaves before yours truly can successfully wash the ants off. And that is how my brain decided to leave me…forever!!! Besides the emotional scars I earned by taking my shirt off, I have actual scars, thanks to all the scratching, on my leg. Till this date, it does itch every now and then. And every time I scratch, I have to curse that good-looking French woman in that damn bikini.

I honestly need to get my head checked. I ought to have known better thanks to life that when red ants are there, you do not sacrifice the shower to a girl in a bikini. Sheesh!!! Sometimes, I really want to take an anvil and drop it on my own head. There are times, I end up being like Wile.E.Coyote..all those attempts to catch the Road Runner and all I end up doing is hurting myself. Hopefully lesson has been learnt and I will not allow my mind to go blank in such situations. No good looking French girl in a bikini or any other girl in a bikini...or any other girl in general is worth letting your mind go. Especially when you've got a ants in your pants. ( I finally got to use that some where.)

PS: Turns out the nice looking lady is the singer at the bar at the resort here and she’s not very good at it. Now I feel even worse, I gave up my shower to a terrible singer. Can someone please hire a hitman to lodge a bullet in my brain???

And hence begin the long sleepless nights…

The Before-Life