I never knew the day would come when I would dream of slaughtering a machine.
Sure, I grew up with the Terminator chronicles.
Sure Arnold’s accent, strong as it continues to be, couldn’t deviate me from the devotion I felt for the beauty of skin entwined with intelligent liquid metal.
Sure I said “I’ll be back” way more than I should have - explains my popularity in high school.
But on April 13th at 2:46 p.m. in the blasted furnace of the afternoon air, I knew that if I would ever attempt murder, it would be in front of a deformed box that said YES.
Let me explain.
P.S : I would like to thank my reliable Online Banking site for the above information.
*Insert applause*
I wanted money and I must admit, I neither had the energy, vitality or agility to rob a bank.
Desire – maybe.
So I did what the ignorant do – trust a hole in the wall invented back in the sixties.
I went to an ATM.
Bleh.
And that my friends is where the stage was set for a historic confrontation - Man ( reality : scrawny 5 feet 2 inches woman-child) Versus Machine ( reality : machine).
So I stand there feeling more urbane.
I whip out my card – damn, I’m cool.
Insert card says the blinking screen – less than a second later I’m acknowledged.
Accepted by a system that trades in billions.
Eat that Rajinikanth.
I punch in the code. (I feel sexy now – kind of spy like even)
Enter desired amount.
Hee-haw.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
BOING.
GRRRRRR (that’s right you bad boy)
And out the paper notes fly.
Happy ending?
Meow. Wakey wakey.
As we all know, money that comes catapulting out of the slot is accompanied by a rather shrill beeping sound that even the most highly qualified bomb squad would run away from.
The robotic orchestra is designed to play long enough to register into the victim’s brain - alert brain cells that in turn send out high frequency signals to get your a** moving.
People who know me know that my mind floats around like melted fondue. In no particular direction really.
I’m not the fastest or sharpest creature out there.
But that doesnt call for injustice from the non-living.
I turn to my friend and say a few words.
Let me stress on the word "few".
It’s not like I grabbed a mocha latte and sat down to chat on the seemingly less important things in life.
I got distracted? - Yes
For long enough? - No
Next thing you know - Poof!
Money gone bye bye.
A small room made pleasant by a substandard air-conditioner had now become a battle ground ready to spew gore.
It didn’t help that the battle armour adorned by the soldier in question was a far cry from the intricate designs once melted into perfection over molten fires by the most able of blacksmiths in all the land.
A floral top accompanied by pink tights on legs that resembled sticks.
The Spartans would have been highly disappointed.
Surprisingly, there were no fumes that accompanied the atrociousness - no futuristic growls of savagery from the machine.
Only a beep – followed by the smooth slide of hard earned money in the wrong direction. Back into the waiting arms of a lusciously bosomed cash reserve that in my opinion did not need to increase her cup size.
Jeez.
From my side – of course, there was a howl – long and werewolf like.
Picture me with whiskers against the backdrop of a ridiculously large silver moon. A couple of pine trees could be added on the right or left corner as stage props for added effect.
Anything for cinema. Really.
I was left mouth hanging open, no money and a receipt that claimed I did not like to save.
Tsk Tsk.
Now where would I spend all that invisible money I wonder?
Damn.
“They may take our lives but they will never take my MONEY!!!!!”
I’m glad Mel and the rest of his hunky Scotsmen did not have to rely on Automated Teller Machines to fund their upheaval against English forces.
I marched out of there and flew to the closest branch of my own bank. Think witch on straw broom if you will.
" Your request S ********* is registered on 13-04-2011. It will be processed in 12 working days from request date."
12 working days???!!!!
Nevertheless, it felt good that my forces were trying to retrieve what I now refer to as stolen cash.
Banks that rob - now that's a first.
So, dear friends – Say No to Yes Bank (ATM , Yari road).
For they have changed me as a person. As they will you.
Henceforth, CCTV cameras of Bank's across the nation shall have in their extensive library, footage of me diving towards the machine as soon as Gandhi is in visible range.
Probably with flapping arms, a guttural war cry emitted from an extended mouth full of cavities accompanied by spit flying everywhere.
That in slow motion my friends could be better than stand-up comedy.
