DEATH BY KUMQUAT JUICE SQUEEZE!

by ben casey kildare house m.d., donplaypuks® intrepid correspondent for coronary inquest affairs

I had all this money my father had collected over the years from ardent admirers and just plain bloody-minded altruists like telekoms and toll highway operators who kept making donations without him ever soliciting for it. Billions of it!!

So, I had to launder all this money through original and innovative businesses and Mother Teresa personal finance schemes. So, I opened an office and hired Kim Basinger as my secretary. Why Kim Basinger you ask, you peasant coolie busybody? Well, when opportunity and wherewithal meets drop-dead bod fantasy there is only one possible outcome. I hired her and boy, did I gamble right !!

Kim was the best office manager I ever had. In fact she was the only office manager I ever had with whom I had a thothally platonic friendship!

Then one day she wanted to buy a house. She wanted $ 1 million and suggested I consult my wife, her best friend with whom I had a very open, mature relationship. But I knew the old hag would not ever be interested in such mundane matters like loaning $1,000K without any reason to her best friend who was the only office manager I ever had. So, that’s how I gave $250K outright to the best and only office manager I ever had who tried to have me. I arranged a bank loan for the balance of $250K even though her credit rating was such that AIG and Citybank would have rejected her application !

Then somehow the staffs got to know about Kim buying a house and my super generous-to-a-fault soft nature. So, Simran, the best secretary I ever had asked for and got a $150K fully-serviceable personal loan for a car. And, Aishwaria the best two books book-keeper I ever had squeezed a $100K fully-accountable loan to settle her mother’s miscarriage medical bills. Ah yes, I must not forget Padmini the best tea lady I ever had and Sneha the best receptionist I ever had who wanted $50K after-office serviceable loans for airfares to Chennai to sort out family affairs.

Then there were all these general staffs. Trisha, Genelia, Illena, Anushka, Shriya, Kajol, Bhumika and Deepika. The best ever platonic general staffs I ever had. Some wanted fully-serviceable loans to buy cars, deposit for house, Deepavali shopping, hire studies, holiday to Bali and Kashmir and seminars to improve their intercourse, oratory, interpersonal and social skills.

Gosh, they did have great and very original needs for all kinds of serviceable loans. I must have been hit for a seven figure sum in total in fully-serviceable loans. Even Gemini, the best ever office and messenger boy I never had; even he whacked me for $50K to continue his further education and PhD thesis titled ‘Bollywood vs Hollywood.’ Many, even though they were not my staffs would beg me for fully serviceable study loans lah, car loans lah, car loan guarantees lah, housing loans lah, medical bills loans lah ad infinitum. I refused none and obliged all. That’s a legacy my father passed on to me!

But it’s strange that my wife stood guarantor for my chauffer Sivaji. Can’t fathom why she had a soft spot for him!

Just when I thought it was all over, Kim calls me one fine day about her gonad problem and severe ache. I mean what am I, her personal doctor? So, I tell Kim in jest to drink a glass of freshly squeezed ripe Kumquat fruit juice, C4 grade, (an ancient Indiana cure mentioned in the Upanishads, I lie to her) to ease the painful contractions and hang up in anger. I mean like she’d have Kumquat fruits just lying about in her fridge or growing in her backyard!

Fuck me if I wasn’t gobsmacked next when Kim’s brother calls me from New Zealand in panic and says she’s collapsed at home suspected of accidentally swallowing toxic Kumquat juice? I mean jeeze, what is the statistical probability? I rush over to Kim’s house, I mean jeeze I just happened to have the keys to her front door and bedroom and then got the driver to break all speed records to get her admitted to the emergency ward at the GH in Bangkok. Yeah, I know the local GH was just ten minutes away, but I didn’t want to take any chances and besides my machan who was a doctor there (and who has since left for private practice) could give Kim 100% attention.

But it was sad, very sad. I shed a million tears. When I got to the Bangkok GH, Kim had departed to the next world. I mean there she was curled up in a foetal position looking so beautiful and dead! It took me weeks to recover, though for the life of me I could not grasp why she was in the MATERNITY WARD. Then I heard one of Kim’s relatives, a 3rd or 4th cousin once or twice removed I don’t know, instructing the doctors, as is the norm in our country, not to perform any autopsy or post mortem so as not to violate the sanctity of her body and innocence. Now the body has been cremated and we cannot confirm that Kim died of ‘gonadial post-coital premature water bag bursitis induced by poisonously squeezed Kumquat Juice (C4 grade) imbibation.’

Why, what should I do with my life now? There seems no reason to go on. Kim is dead, the body is missing, witnesses have disappeared, the police have no evidence, no motive can be established for any foul play and the bottle of Kumquat Juice (C4 grade) cannot be located!

Wait, there is a higher, noble cause I could aspire to. I know, I’ll enter politics and maybe Pakatan will offer me the post of Ambassador to Mongolia. Gosh, I've got it! Let me go for Gold. I'll try to become the next Prime Minister!

Daddy, Zaid, you think HRH will object?

donplaypuks® with poisonously squeezed kumquat juice, man!