Guminda

Arr Guminda woke up amongst his favourite cuddly pillows. There was Smokey and Pokey and Cherry. He sighed and burrowed himself deeper in-between the covers. This was life.

The provincial council votes would be coming in by now, Chief Minister here i come!

He stretched himself luxuriously

'SOMEY!? where was that butt less moron of a butler?

'Somey!!' dammit, this is what happens when you hire people from your mother's village, damn political obligations, Guminda thought. The twerp doesn't even speak proper English! Doesn't even know what the word 'butler' means even! he felt weighted down by the unfairness of it all.

He looked around his penthouse flat; the place seemed lonely these days. He found his thoughts being dragged to earlier times, happier times.

He missed her, when the nights were lonely. He missed her high pitched voice which always reminded him of his favourite movie, Bride of Chucky. He missed her baby eyes, which could always convince him that she was younger than she appeared, much younger, the way he liked it. But most of all he missed her boobs, those soft cuddly boxing fit boobs, those perky ripe apples of Shakespearean praiseworthiness except that he didn’t know any Shakespeare, he didn't read much really. It wasn’t really required in his particular line of work.

He found himself imagining her lying on the bed right next to him; he found himself imagining what he'd do to her. Oh how he'd crush those boobs between his massive hands. He loved the way they would come out in red welts after they had sex from where his numerous rings would cut into her flesh. He loved the way she squealed when he'd enter her and pound her missionary style letting her breasts bounce around like two demolition balls crashing around against each other in utter chaos. Sometimes, when they were really going at it and his hips were moving back and forth at a quarter of the speed of light, they would move so fast that all he'd see was a blur of motion.

He sighed. It was the boobs really, he'd thought he'd loved the girl, but he'd only really ever loved the boobs. At least, the only emotional attachment he could connect to her centred heavily on her chest area.

He sighed again and tut tutted. Fuck that, chicks with good boobs are a dime a dozen. Of course, now that he was Chief Minister, he could have all the pussy he wanted. He tried to cheer himself up, tried to shrug his shoulders and force that famous Guminda grin that made old ladies swoon in motherly euphoria and kids cry in anticipation of being eaten alive. But he still felt bugged.

Was it possible to fall in love with a pair of boobs? He wondered. He made a mental note to ask Somey about it.

Right, now for the affairs of the state. He thought about his campaign. He was rather proud of it actually. He kind of enjoyed campaigning, he was a born poser and no matter what they say about actual practicing politics, there was nothing like an exciting campaign to really make a guy feel like he's doing something important you know? He'd felt on top of the world these past few weeks. He'd just loved the attention.

Was there anyone who could even come close to his magnafacious brilliance! Ow! He was the only real man in the whole electorate. What was a leader if he didn’t have a body the people could be proud of? What was a leader if he looked as if he could not even defend himself in a fistfight? Arr G was all male, he was the man for the job. He was the silver stammering nimrod, he was batahira sulange yotha balakaaya, he was the bee’s knees and the cat’s meow he was in short the greatest political icon to ever enter the political arena in the world! Yes that’s right! Soon the world would see that a Sri Lankan president could be just as iconic as an American one, he would even show Obama a thing or two about style, he would...

Oops. He’d just thought 'president' hadn't he? Must watch himself. The incumbent doesn't like ambition. And that goddamn brother of his looks like he practices black magic anyway, what if he read his mind or something? No, it was too early. He must keep his ambitions to himself for now. He must wait.

He sniggered maniacally. There was a side to Guminda that the press did not quite see. And he meant to keep it that way.

Arr G sighed, again. Oh well, a city awaited his benevolence. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd sweep the polls clean. He knew he was the dopest most illest gangsta pollsta to ever hit this sunny island and that limping simple wackass ex cricket bat cleaner didnt stand a chance against his awesomeness. He'd even had a song written about himself hadn’t he? He’d been so innovative and just simply marketed himself beyond the competition. The competition wasn't even in his league. In fact there was no competition. There was only him.

He hadn't even bothered to switch on the television. To him, victory was a foregone conclusion.

Ah! now for some tea.

Somey?

Grrr.. thats it, that cross eyed bugger was going back to his village

SOMEY? hukannathuwa mata thei ekak geneng!! (quit fuckin'around and bring me some tea) he yelled.

Sometimes you just gotta make mofockers understand you dig?