Koming and koing
K in kargo kshorts. There are better sights. Like the Jallianwala bagh massacre. Hey, even a Kumar Gaurav starrer from the eighties is a masterpiece worth admiring for hours kompared to k in kargo kshorts.
So, there I was at the airport seeing him off gleefully with only one thought: no more K in kargo kshorts. Wertti had come along to celebrate as well, but the sneaky k lured him over to the kark side with a cylindrical roll of unmentionable substances just when we were about to pop a bottle of fizzy fruit juice -- I wish you didn't have to wait for fruit juice to spoil for the fizz. It just takes the fun out of drinking it.
Digressions aside. K is still here. Gazing out at the city at large. Threatening to kick (notice the word begins with a k) me off the blog. Hah!
This kalls for a ksilent takeover. Double hah!