She met him the other day and the conversation started on a complaining note, “I think you are terrible habit for me.”
“What does that mean?”, he asked.
He added, “Am I terrible, or are my habits terrible, or am I terrible for you?”, he fawned in a fake accent as he asked this.
She scorned and icily said, “Arrey baba, your English is tho completely terrible. We shall sponsor Rapidex for you. If it helped Kapil, it should help you too. You are tho definitely worse off than him.”
He nattily laughed and after a pause asked again, “Ok tell me what is terrible.”
“I don’t like that your silly jokes and stories are addictive. So are your completely stupid poems.”
“So its my jokes and poems that are terrible. You don’t have to tell me that, I already know.”
“Nah nah….its you and your whole being that is terrible. For me, you are almost like smoking, or pot - just a terribly bad habit. One's that can cause cancer.”
“Ah…that means I am bad for you?”
“Yes. Finally. Thanks for getting it.”
“So in short, I am like a vice?”
She furiously nodded in assent.
He paused, chuckled and then asked, “Very well, dear, then, will you please be my versa?”
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