12 am and Choco Chip Ice Cream.

It is 12 am and I only got that right the third time because I kept holding down shift and typing !@.It is my brother's birthday and I should be wishing him considering the fact that I'm online and he's online but I know for a fact that he's not there because he is busy being pool-dunked.
What a fun.
It is therefore, 12 am and I have nothing to do for I'm done re-reading Harry Potter and the street dogs find it too hot and too sultry to engage in midnight races.
They are not even mildly interested in chasing the odd man riding a bicycle.
It seems Poltu is not required to work on summer nights and that cancels out tantric dances.
Also, he is not amused by them anymore. He has long since known who I am and thus, the curiosity levels, bordering on fright have taken a dip.
Poltu is the nightwatchman for anyone who might be getting strange ideas.
On nights such as this, infact worse, when I was tired of studying and/or doing a project, Poltu would provide welcome means of entertainment.
He would invariably look up to see the only lit room in the neighbourhood and so that he got a bit more than just a pale, hospital-like white ruining the muted yellow glow of streetlights for all his effort, I would go to the verandah and put up a show featuring an ecstatic silhouette, performing professional tantric ceremonies. He would stop whistling his whistle and beating his stick. Later, when he would come during the day to collect money, he would precariously peep into the house to see who lived there.
His real name is Gopal. Poltu is much better.

But even he's not working on summer nights and either way I'm done with the tantric ceremonies. Scary House is a disgrace. The man on the cot being the only exception, but I missed him on account of the fact that I was walking in front.His timings are based on an average basis and he therefore,decides to dart across only when the majority of the crowd is in his room. I missed out on quite a few things because of the average clause. But even Sambit, who is a wimp found it stupid and I guess there wasn't really anything to miss out on.Initially, when we were getting in, he was so fucking scared that he would neither walk forward nor let me move ahead. I was being tugged back everytime I tried.
Also, Googly and her friends should be paid for advertising Scary House.Watching them come screaming out of the exit, many were encouraged into buying tickets.
The man at the entrance was nice and creepy.He was enjoying being the investigator out of a Hitchcock movie, dressed in a long black coat with rolling eyes glaring out from under the bowler hat.Only he was playing the investigator who haunted old motels.
I've never heard of those but he looked like one.
The inside was pitch dark with only the corners lit in red. I walked into a wooden wall thinking that it was a door that would creak open and then a zombie would come jumping out of a closet but that didn't work out. I think if I had pushed a little harder, I would've broken through into the adjacent Haunted Hotel.
There were skeletons hanging here and there and I was expecting that things would suddenly fall from the ceiling or spiders would come crawling out but nothing happened.
And I did not kiss the hag statue.Nothing was really happening so when she went "bahahaaa" I went upto her and said pooseycat.
Right before the exit, a supposed cave man drives people out with his primitive-version-of-a-baseball-bat-stick.
I missed that too and stepped back in to see him.

Rajasee, who was most excited about Scary House was disappointed but she always manages to liven up her day with ideas such as "we should make our own Scary House" that strike her mind before the want to criticise the existing setup can even percolate.

Scary House is still very much worth visiting though. You should go the food court and sit outside and watch as people come out with strange expressions and in stranger positions.
Four surds took fifteen minutes to get in. Fifteen minutes of abandoning the devil-may-care attitude and shamelessly telling each other " I don't care what you think. I'm scared. Main nahin jaaonga."
They did come out with the stud walk. Bundled fists and shoulders inappropriately pulled back in evident discomfort.

I have also realised that cloth pins are an invention that have not undergone any change since they were first made. Everything changes with technology.
When it was hot, hand fans were used.The rich employed the poor to wave fans for them. But then the poor became rich and the rich, well they stayed rich but there was noone to fan them.The poor did not exactly have revenge in mind because now that they were rich, they too wanted someone to fan them. Only, now everyone was rich. Except that is untrue.
Still, for reasons that I'm too tired to create, a DC motor was invented and employed in the manufacture of fans.Only the fans circulated hot air. So after a lot of physical chemistry and unnecessary Nobel Prizes for laws that fail to fascinate the imagination and pride of even a four-year old on a universe-discovering spree, the idea of compressors was developed for the field of artificial wind generation. And now we have air-condtioners.It would apparently, take us some time to set in the Ice Age and therefore, we are still improving on the design of the air-conditioner.
But the design of the cloth-pin has not been modified since. We can therefore, proudly say that we have perfected the art of cloth-pin making.
Screw them aliens.

It is 0100 hours.
My brother has returned and gone and I haven't wished him.I will call him in the morning.
I do have to wake up at 6:30.