Serious Sam Siberian Mayhem All Bosses

2022.01.26 05:12 CaleoGaming Serious Sam Siberian Mayhem All Bosses

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2022.01.26 05:12 Kuthengra Munna - The Retro

2010, Somewhere in southern plain of Nepal, border to India.
Situated a few metres off the verge of the road, in a small highway town of Terai was Munna’s Tea and cigarette shop. The shop was basically a thatched roof hut that was in constant threat of getting demolished by authority to widen the verge of Tribhuwan highway. About the only other shops around this part of Meetpur was Kariyanand carpenter’s workshop at a stones throw away from Munna’s and a Junkyard belonging to a mysterious Bihari on the other side of the road. Other than Kariyanand and Bihari, the only business Munna’s shop received was from employees of a government office building that was about five hundred metres from here, not counting occasional drifters who were headed for Meetpur or beyond but accidentally disembarked from the bus one stop ahead, or people who got off the bus on-purpose to chat with Munna while sipping on his wonderful masala tea before making their way to Meetpur.
Well, some smackers frequented Munna’s shop too, high on gaanja, brown sugar, pechu, tablet, injection or whatever it is that they liked to put in their blood and asked for sweet tea with extra sugar — extra 50 paisa for extra spoon of sugar being the constant bargaining between smackers and Munna — but Munna counted them more as nuisance rather than customers as more often than not they got into fights and they had made a habit of pissing and vomiting on the external side wall of his hut, unable to handle the drug. The wall, as Munna noticed, had gone mildewed and green with algae because of smacker’s constant sprinkling of urine.
Not only that, Munna’s shop was also becoming a trading junction between smackers and those fancy pant pale-skinned boys, who came all the way down from north in their sport bikes with their girlfriends seated on the elevated pillion seat, to get their hands on brown sugar. Those stuck-up girls, seated like that on the bike with their gaand up in the air reminded Munna of those witches in TV shows flying on the broom stick with their hawk shaped nose. To think of hawked shape nose, it had been awhile since that funny bahun government-employee had visited his tea shop. He missed the stories and anecdotes that bahun regaled the other customers in his shop with. He sure was a funny man. A funny man like that can share the surti from his dibiya anyday.
Munna drifted back to thinking about girls on the bike again. He had also heard that sometimes those boys traded their girlfriends for an hour or two to those smackers for the brown stuff, when they were short on cash. Shameless motherfuckers, Munna shook his head. However it made Munna wonder if he had done a right career move by chosing to become a tea shop owner under his father’s tutelage. This way no way to live, this 6 am to 5 pm slaving at shop, seven days a week, making two hundred cups of teas a day. Well sometimes he wished he was selling drugs too; he would have deliberately hiked the price up so that those boys were always short of cash, he was sure of that much.
A little creek ran behind Munna’s shop that basically collected and carried effluent from Meetpur to India. The mid day heat of forty degree Celsius caused the stench to rise up from creek becoming one with the humidity but Munna who was used to it, did not even notice it. The only thing he was anticipating was the next dose of his surti with extra chuna, which he took exactly at around 12:30 pm, without fail. He wiped the counter with a rag and rummaged out his yellow surti-ko-dibiya from his pocket and carefully placed it on the counter. Still twenty minutes to go, he checked the time on his wrist watch.
Exactly after fifteen minutes, when Munna was vigorously rubbing the surti and chuna in his palm with thumb of right hand, a local bus, with its body covered with rust more than paint, slowly crawled to a stop in front of his shop. Without even looking at the bus, Munna just habitually signalled the driver with his right hand to keep moving and not stop — a message that there were no customer waiting in his shop to board the bus.
For a second his eyes darted towards the bus and then back to his surti. Suddenly, he looked back at the bus again, for he thought he saw a bare ass with lubricated anus on the window in the last row. But with a sinking heart, Munna saw that it was only a fat guy with his cheeks ballooned with beetle juice, his lips puckered up and glistening in a broad daylight, a thin line of pinkish saliva running down his chin, drip-dropping. It seemed the man was trying to stare down Munna. Munna welcomed it, not breaking his stare either. He was not the one to be easily fazed by bullies, specially one seated on the bus which was soon gonna move away anyway. They kept staring at each other for ten seconds before the man extended his neck out of the window and spat the content of his mouth out, as if aiming for Munna’s face. The discharge landed splat on the hot pavement, sizzled and vaporised. The man blew a kiss to Munna puckering his mangy wet lips again. Munna did not let grimace surface to his countenance and maintained his stoic expression.
The bus peeled away slowly but they kept staring at each other. Munna even walked out of his shop, standing under the awning, surti clenched in his left fist, and stared at man in the bus which was now about 200 metres away, for the man had also stuck his head out of the window to look back at Munna. When the bus became a small dot in the horizon, Munna made a gun with his right hand and shot phantom bullets. One thing Munna had learned watching all of those Mithun Da’s movies — only the B grade action ones — was to never back down from a confrontation and always stand your ground or else people took you for a weak and climbed on your shoulder and pissed in your ear — the image of smackers pissing on his wall came to his mind but he let it slide for they were customers, it was a completely different issue. With his arms spread away from his torso as if he was a bodybuilder with wide wings, Munna, with his Five feet two inches of hulking frame, retreated inside the hut, but offered one last stare toward the horizon, just in case the man was still looking.

During lunch time, kariyanand was sitting on the bench inside Munna’s shop with his feet up, salvaging the pieces of gutkha stuck in the corner and crevices of his teeth with his tongue, making clicking sound every now and then. Munna was combing his hair with a black pocket comb, looking at a shaving mirror that stood on its wire stand on the counter. For a second Munna’s eyes darted to a Mithun’s image on 1-ruppe-postcard stuck on the side board of counter. Munna had received that post-card long time ago on his birthday from a friend, that’s what he used to say to people when asked but he infact had stolen it from auto-book that Rashmi his classmate had given him to write on at end of SLC.
Kariyanand, just in time, caught Munna’s eyes flicking to Mithun’s photo. He was aware of Munna’s obsession with the Bollywood actor and to be honest Munna indeed looked like a malnourished and midget version of Mithun, the resemblance was remarkable if not commendable. Kariyanand looked at his watch. The customer from government office were not going to come anytime soon and it was highly unlikely that anybody else would show up when sun was blazing so hot outside. It was the moment like this that he was always in lookout for.
Kariyanand looked at Munna with a mischief in his eyes and said in bhojpuri, “Oe sala Mee-thun, give me one cigarette”
Munna stopped sliding the comb midway through his shabby hair, waited for a second or two then looked back at Kariyanand with a deep frown, brooding like an angry action hero.
“what are you looking at my face like an owl, give me the cigarette I said”, said Kariyanand trying to rile up Munna even further.
“Uncle you don’t have manners? Who did you call me sala?” said Munna finally, his comb still stuck to his unkempt curly hair.
“Aye to you I said sala? When? I said sala to that Mithun in the photo……oh I see, you think you are mithun ha, baf re baf he think he is a hero” said Kariyanand in one breath.
“Uncle don’t try to act smart with me okay? I have been noticing for few days that you are trying to get on my nerves. I don’t have time for all this non sense ok”
“Ah chal chal give your dhamki to dogs and cats not me. Keep your mouth shut and give me my cigarettes already”
Munna decided to let it go, respecting the age of Kariyanand who was his father’s best friend and almost same age. Like Rajnikant kicking and punching villains without even looking at them, Munna listlessly grabbed the cigarette packet out of showcase, still looking at Kariyanand with anger simmering on his face.
“Aye not Surya rey gadha give me khukuri. At least pay attention to your work.” said Kariyanand with theatrical irritation.
Munna looked at the Surya packet in his hand and flinched nervously and put it back in the showcase, taking out the cheap khukuri pack instead. He upturned the pack in his right hand and with a practised gesture took one stick out without dropping the rest and gave it to Kariyanand, back to brooding.
“Now who will give me lighter? Kailash dai ayera dincha k?” said Kariyanand putting the dog-end of cigarette in his mouth.
“Can’t you see the fucking lighter hanging right in front of your face? Are you blind? Buwa ko naam linu parcha tapailai?”
Kariyanand felt a deep satisfaction, the same kind he felt when he smashed mating yellow frogs with bricks in his childhood, when he saw the frown in Munna’s forehead deepen again. He stood up from his bench, looming over seated Munna, slipped his dirty and cracked feet in his plastic chappals and walked to the counter. He grabbed the lighter hanging by the thin string, flicked the rusty lighter few times and lit his cigarette. He then blew the smoke deliberately on Munna’s face.
“Pakkkkkk what kind of person are you? Go sit there on the bench and smoke” said Munna with irritation.
Kariyanand pretended to jab Munna’s face with smouldering red-end of cigarette, stopping just few inches away from his pimpled face. Munna flinched and blinked few times. A soothing sensation washed over Kariyananda’s bored mind and loveless heart.
“Don’t you understand the thing I have been telling you? I said don’t fucking mess with me?” shouted Munna on top of his lung, standing to his full height, the last few words of his sounding like a tin dragging on floor.
But Munna might as well have been seated, because five foot ten inches tall Kariyanand still loomed over him.
“wow what a style of getting up from that chair. What a pose. Do you know karatey wuratey?” said Kariyanand, seating back on the bench, worried that he might have taken the ragging a bit too far, but still not done with Munna.
“I dont need to know karatey. EK CHOTI DIMAG SANKINCHA NI MERO ACHCHEY ACHCHEY KARATEY BAAJ KO HAWA TIGHT GARDINCHU MA”
“hahahahahaha really? I on the other hand heard that once your temper flares you start having seizures and you become unconscious and come to senses only when someone puts a stinky shoes on your nose to let you take a whiff of it”
“UNCLEEEEEEE………” shouted Munna in tin-on-floor shriek, “last warning di rahechu tapailai, I will not be responsible if I end up doing something bad I am telling you now. I don’t allow even my own father more than 3 mistakes.”
“hahahahahaha…” Kariyanand threw his head back and laughed his deep guffaw, “hahahahaha…..really? Looking at you it doesn’t seem that in 27 years Kailash dai has done only 3 mistakes with you..hahahaha”
Munna started shaking. His finger, that he was pointing to Kariyanand started shaking. He tried to form some warning phrase in his mind but nothing came which would completely justify his current state of irritation with this cruel person.
“Uncle I am warning you for one last time or else….” said Munna.
“Yes yes I know you or else will lose it and do something bad. Go now and sit in that lousy chair of yours you midget”
Munna’s face which was already red, deepened into dark red, then purple, like over cooked selroti. Perspiration dotted his forehead and nose.
Maksam if you speak one more work kariyanand something bad will happen from my hand..….”
With a little caution and leaning back a little bit, Kariyanand said, “Pakk a dedh-futiya like you can do nothing. That Rambilash’s daughter who is suffering from hysteria, that kali-kalauti who goes around fucking every one, even she will not put grass in front you, you are such a loser. The only thing that will happen from your hand is this.” Kariyanand made a masturbation gesture with his hand and then blew an imaginary orgasm on Munna’s face.
Munna’s fingers curled, he made a contorted O-shape with his mouth, as if manimal-ing into a simian — like that shown in Nepal TV that Kariyanand preferred over Automan — he the feel on the floor convulsing, possessed by a seizure.
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2022.01.26 05:12 Honey_pie22 Hi, I hope you like what you see. I’m selling personalized feet pics, dm me if you’re interested 💞

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2022.01.26 05:12 NewsElfForEnterprise Canadian Natural Resources’ (CNQ) “Neutral” Rating Reaffirmed at The Goldman Sachs Group

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2022.01.26 05:12 StunningComposer6905 I have some unpaid employment and internships. Should I put that under the employment section of the UCAS application or should I just include it inside the personal statement?

Thanks
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2022.01.26 05:12 HumorousRoo Flower Magic, Me, Acrylic and Black Pen and Photoshop, 2022

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2022.01.26 05:12 SAtechnewsbot Facebook free Internet glitches cause data charges of R119 million

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Nets have Kyrie as a part time player only. Harden wants out.
Draymond is out indefinitely.Klay Thompson might take longer to get in game shape. Curry is in a slump.
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Clippers and Nuggets are derailed with injuries.
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