A short story.
Posted: Sun Jun 14, 2009 6:37 pm
The philosophical society of somali beauty had gathered in the local dixon donut shop to discuss the subject of the week: What is beaty to you? The participants of the gathering were eclactic, unique and somewhat bizarre in their own fantastic manner. The leader or the host of the gather is the formidable but depressed Mystic. She was this intellectual wanna be ex fatty who has discovered new beauty within her skin, she has lost a whopping 301 pound and suddenly find herself in the soon to be slim weight of 190ibs. She was all delight and swiftness. Giggling all the way to big and tall section, dreaming of her ultimate goal of zero size in the next 12 months. The question of beauty had creeped into her since it was a foreign concept. SO Mystic went ahead and brought forth to her club members- what they thought of beauty and how they defined it. Mystic had a secret agenda to this quest. Her survey will bring forth a delicious result she was hopin to experdite. She was dressed in an overall flowery white bigger size to hide her wolloby drooping flesh, that signified she lost a major recently, she was nonetheless looking slim and healthier.
"AttentioN! Attention ! I thank you all for coming. I am here to just gather some educational information as to an experiment i am conducting" Mystic spoke as she smiled sweetly and her audience, listening attentively. Each audience stood up to exclaim their version of beauty.
A short man of lazy beaingness stood up with the aide of a walking stick. His hair was unkept, such like that of charles dickens. He had a large prodigious moustaches that looked intimidating than macho. His chest odly not wide and not broad, it was narrow, and had two pointy man boobs.It was disgusting. His belly was protruding and obviously bespoke--lots of baasto consuption. This seemingly harmless gentleman spoke finally with a voice so soft--- and authentically somaliishh-- that a certain crazy female named Basra was sweating with orgasm in the middle of the audience. This man spoke his version of beauty......
"for me the beauty is the conduct, respect and akhlaaq.
some one doesnt have akhlaaq , on dadka la daqmi karin, that person is ugly, doesnt matter how they look."
Upon hearing this---the crazy female named Basra in the audience fainted out of being sexually moved. But before she fainted, she cried out the name of the man who spoke those beautiful eclactic--- "Akhlaaq" derivation......
"Oh Hyperactive---macaannn.......kiss me please"
And down the pathetic idiot Basra fell and dutifully fainted. Meanwhile, mystic was jotting down some notes on what hyper was saying. Who new-- mystic secret mission was to find who could love her for who she is now, not who she was before. But first she had to get rid of her competition: Basra.
PS: Should i continue?
"AttentioN! Attention ! I thank you all for coming. I am here to just gather some educational information as to an experiment i am conducting" Mystic spoke as she smiled sweetly and her audience, listening attentively. Each audience stood up to exclaim their version of beauty.
A short man of lazy beaingness stood up with the aide of a walking stick. His hair was unkept, such like that of charles dickens. He had a large prodigious moustaches that looked intimidating than macho. His chest odly not wide and not broad, it was narrow, and had two pointy man boobs.It was disgusting. His belly was protruding and obviously bespoke--lots of baasto consuption. This seemingly harmless gentleman spoke finally with a voice so soft--- and authentically somaliishh-- that a certain crazy female named Basra was sweating with orgasm in the middle of the audience. This man spoke his version of beauty......
"for me the beauty is the conduct, respect and akhlaaq.
some one doesnt have akhlaaq , on dadka la daqmi karin, that person is ugly, doesnt matter how they look."
Upon hearing this---the crazy female named Basra in the audience fainted out of being sexually moved. But before she fainted, she cried out the name of the man who spoke those beautiful eclactic--- "Akhlaaq" derivation......
"Oh Hyperactive---macaannn.......kiss me please"
And down the pathetic idiot Basra fell and dutifully fainted. Meanwhile, mystic was jotting down some notes on what hyper was saying. Who new-- mystic secret mission was to find who could love her for who she is now, not who she was before. But first she had to get rid of her competition: Basra.
PS: Should i continue?
