As her sizzling aroma danced on my tongue, I got transported to seventh heaven. That coy diva, in white with pale yellow lace, playing cello on my heartstrings! So deliciously petite yet flagrantly elusive, you could not have enough of her. As I looked into the omelette, charmed by her beauty and fragrance, she smiled back saying, 'Eat me, eat me!'.
Enraptured I stared, as suddenly a burlesque hand turned the end of her lacy yellow to one side. 'No, no', I screamed, but the sooty palm turned her on her back once again. It felt deep within its pockets and brought out a sad 10-rupee note. After that exchanged hands, the greasy devil began the task of defiling the gentle queen once again. The steel plate hissed, as her cries of help turned hoarse. Ordeal over, her voice gone, the brute then cut her to tiny pieces and held them out on a plate saying, ‘20 Rupees, please'. My melancholy picked up her pieces and set adrift, munching morosely.
