In the frenzied atmosphere, I felt myself been pushed and pulled.
There were loud noises everywhere.
The people around me wore funny looks on their faces. They screamed at every possible instance. The heat made their faces sweaty.
Constantly bumping into each other, some tried holding their ground. The others, overcome by emotion, were all over the place. They tried moving their feet as quickly as possible. But it was hard.
Smoke engulfed the place. In the middle of the madness, someone tugged at my shirt. It was 'R'. He had that ghastly look on his face too. Someone else pulled my leg. Three others pushed me around.
It was confusing. I tried to stay sane, but was becoming increasingly hard. All I was thinking was, "How the hell do I get out of here alive?!"
I thought it was Armageddon.
I pushed my way through the crowd, to the edge. And I jumped. I broke free. I ran away from that place. And I could breathe again.
I left all of them behind, screaming.
And I thought, "God! For as long as I live, for as long as I am sober and of sound mind... I am so not stepping foot on a dance floor again!"
Disclaimer The
Neurotic One shall use this narcissistic recluse to blow his own trumpet, to
question the parentage of Communists and to blast the world for what it is.
Readers who do not concur, are requested to bend over and kiss his buttocks.
Readers are also strongly advised against side effects of reading Neurotica,
such as strong nausea, splitting headaches, insomnia, visions of Baba Sehgal
chasing you in a thong, suicidal depression, delirium, anti social behaviour,
transformtion into an ugly toad, nightmares about ugly and naked fat men, STDs,
Kafka dreams or brief flashes of intelligence.
If you do feel these side effects, oh well. Sue me.