So last week my editor threw me under the bus. The headline “Killing me with sexiness” to last week’s column left me reeling. To be precise, I fell off the chair I was sitting on while reading the paper when I got it. So I walked to the editor lady and go like “That was some headline you came up with last week.” She goes like “It captured the spirit of the piece you wrote.”
“Oh come on editor lady. Don’t you realise that I am a self respecting member of society? Some people hold me in very high regard.” I said to her. But the editor is as tough as nails. She is not one that gets moved easily. “Like who?” she continued. “Like ummm errr.” I tried to think of some people that might hold me in high regard but I couldn’t think of anyone right off the bat. I wanted to go through my phone book and see if I might stumble on someone but that would be a dead giveaway. So I said “Like my son.”
Since I was not making any headway, I went to my desk sullen, wearing like the longest face in the history of long faces. “Later in the day my phone rung. It was my mother. “How is it going ma?” I said into the device. “My friend, I saw your article where you were being sexy in the newspaper.” I rubbed a palm across my face. “Ma, did you read the whole article? It had nothing to do with sexiness.” “But the headline had a lot of sexiness” she said. “Can we talk about something else?” I said to her.
“How are your hens. “I inquired. “They are great. Those ones I can manage well because at least, they are not trying to be sexy.” It is typical of her, to milk a joke dry, until the punch line has been thoroughly exhausted. “Can you buy me 10 more chicken to add my pen?” she asked.
No ma, I am not buying you any more hens. “I will ask your brother in the US. He does not deny me anything,” She continued. She also advised me to write something more universal this week. Something that many people would relate to. She suggested topics like How to rear Kuroiler hens. I sarcastically thanked her for the splendid idea and quickly said my good byes.
So I suspect my editor practices some new age form of martial arts. Something like jujutshu. In case we ever get into an altercation about headlines and stuff, your humble columnist will probably be obliterated. You can also use the word neutralised here if you like, although personally, I would go with obliterate. It just has a better ring to it. Right?