A Sunday evening.

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It was a good day is what I thought in the beginning. The way the day started made me feel that the world conspired to replenish my lost energy.
       A lazy day, a lazy evening, a beautiful book a gruesome evening it was.  I sat on my comfy sofa and started reading one of PG Wodehouse’s novel as my lap thanked me on the behalf of his brother “my back” which was lying on the leather back. But in no time the bell rang and Satan was at my door. Rather Sarah was at my door with a packed box in her hand which most probably was filled with sweets which my brain was horrified to think. I regarded her in the most modest manner my tongue allowed despite this that my heart asked me to shut the door on her face. The last she brought sweets they tasted like burned rubber.
          After a brief talk about various things,mainly about my future wife, she opened the box which smelled like crap.  .My feelings were destined to change if I would have had tasted those so called sweets. Politely I told her that my doctor had prescribed me to be away from sweets for a few weeks as my insulin level was high. Astonishingly she believed in what I said. As the day continued nothing I dreamt of came true. My book was nowhere to be found and the lady seemingly was hellbent on making me a disciple of her idol who herself was a thief in the disguise of a sane.
                Despite of all the tragedies I was not ready to give up my faith over something which was never supposed to come true.  Around 6 in the evening the dreadful bell rang again but this time it opened to a nice human who presumably was my mother. After a “great day” at the dinner table after our supper my mother opened a secret box which consisted of hot chocolate fudge. It made me feel that the bad day would soon come to an end with a bite of that fudge but as the saying goes “honesty is the best policy” the day ended horribly as the moment I dipped my spoon in the chocolate sauced fudge my aunt Sarah dropped in and said, ” it seems that you have a poor memory my dear. You just told me that you were not supposed to eat sugar”. Hearing this I got robbed and saw my feelings going in a dump. As the day was followed by the wrath of the return of the Monday.

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