Mr. P

“Lying on the couch and gulping cheetoz one by one was my favourite hobby since I was 3.

And when I was 6, I started to play video games. And when my family used to live with me, they never called me by my real name. I was called a ‘sloth’ or a ‘sofa spud’.

Piles of homework were delivered to me every day by my mom’s-friend’s-cousin’s-daughter. I had never opened a book. I even avoided an eye contact with them.

And even now, I never cared a bit about the mobile phone buzzing next to me.”

I huffed as I complete my sentence, in a super slow pace.

“Wow! Sir, seems like you were very much dedicated from the start.” The reporter raises his eyebrows and exclaimed.

“Now, Sir would you care us to tell, what difficulties have you faced?”

“Ah! If you haven’t booked me or called me regularly since 5 years, I probably would have left. That’s enough exercise for my mouth after ten months.” I mumbled.

“So, you are saying that, you haven’t spoken a word since ten months?” The reporter sort of jumped out of my recliner.

I shrugged.

“Sir, you are a born sloth. And our country is proud of this talent of yours. Probably that’s why they have awarded you this grand prize.” I could see the blue in his eyes twinkling.

He continued, with a noticeable rise in his voice.

“I am thankful to you for this meeting and speaking such long sentences.

But our aspiring procrastinators and, uh.. ‘Sloths’ want to know how come you have coped with the difficulties?”

All the cameras were focused toward my bed. I was sort of wrenching my eyes, which the reporter noticed. So, the reporter ordered the light man to focus slightly through a different angle. Suddenly, the cameraman trembled over the stuff, spread all over my floor. I didn’t bother to take a look. I just assumed after listening to ‘Ows’ and ‘ouches’.

“So, yeah, I have to suffer a lot of criticism. Once my father dragged me out to our lawn so, I ....”

“You lay there until your father came back in the evening. Right?” The reporter interrupted.

I passed a bitter look and continued:

“No. I spent 3 days and 4 nights on mere grass. My father was on some business trip at that time. Then he dragged me inside and never asked me about anything. For the fellow procrastinators and sloths, I want to advice you that...”

I started to yawn. And pull up my blanket with the eye-sensed machine made by my cousin’s-friend’s-father’s-boss’s-son.

“Seems like Mr. Procrastinator, who had just made a world record in laziness and idleness had decided to show his talent live.” The reporter yawns a little too, maybe as a tribute.

**********

“But, Greg has to wake up for the school, its 6:30.”

Suddenly, the reporter’s face got transformed into my mother’s face. First, his hairs started to grow and then his beard disappeared. It was all very scary. Really.

I was jerked.

I opened my eyes and my mom was still shouting.

Like every other day.

Author's note: I wrote this on my phone in ten minutes. So, rip apart.