Enough with old sods whipping…!

It’s not even an elegant Fencing game, nor is it a brutal samurai sword swish that quickly draws a conclusion; our politicians have been stooping down, biting their lips and whipping their ancient-veiny-sausages.

All this, while the crowd waits for the next blood-gorging-stiffness. The crowd may then cheer for a winner who will lay a trail of their load and will lead all to economic prosperity.

Over time, the game has become so ugly that they never accept defeat, never heed to the jeer and cheer of the crowd, and let the dust of the Battle of Egos settle.

Of course, this has been going on since the beginning of civilization, and it’s not a strange game cooked up by Nepal.

Before 1990, it was one guy, Kingpin, who flaunted his trouser-snake and forced everyone to follow his trace of load.

Tired of following the same trail that led to no economic prosperity, we rose up to demand a choice of our own sausage-whipping trail-carving champion.

Now, the stage was void of one-eyed-monsters which, of course, human nature does not allow. Then all groups, including the People Pleasure group, scrambled for the stage.

What resulted was a glorious welcome of multiple one-eyed-monsters on the stage to battle it out. But, and there is a big but, this would happen with the consent of the Kingpin who still held on to his privilege of having the last word in the contest.

The rules of the game were as follows:

Groups must whip their pleasure-pumps out and prove their worth by pleasing the crowd. The group that achieved this, meant they had the strongest set of anacondas. They would be the ones to lead to economic prosperity.

Those who lost the game must accept the result graciously and slacken their larger-than-universe ego.

But no, in 1996, even before the dust had settled after the first round of play, another group, let’s call them People Pleaser group, demanded their place on stage, self-proclaiming that their dick-tators were the most majestic.

And so majestic in fact, that they gathered quite a considerable support from the backend of the crowd who then literally carried the burden of People Pleasure’s dick-tator and began marching towards the stage.

The ones already on stage, with a drop of piss at the tips of their evolution-driver, sometimes unified to guard the territory of the stage, and sometimes went back on the game.

Kingpin, who observed the distraction, was tired of watching from the crowd and, in 2005, he declared a coup! “You peasants should step back cause y’all have tainted the game. Clearly, the righteous trail of the load should be mine.”

Oh, what a twist in the plot. Kingpin jumped on stage, drove out the ones who were contesting, pulled down his pants, and this time, went berserk.

The sausage whipping was so aggressive that rather than taming the crowd and his opponents, he let drops of his load splash on the face of all in the arena.

Uh-oh! The shots of load that reached the crowd was too much. So much so, that all of them booed, dropped down their pants, and rolled-it-out.

The scene was intimidating: Kingpin ferociously whipping his meaty-friend on stage while the entire arena echoed the swish and swoosh of their own sausages.

The competing groups used the craziness in their favor. They unified to create a massive bubble of ultimate-sausage-measuring ego and joined the crowd.

Finally, in 2008, the deafening sound of the arena finally suppressed Kingpin’s meaty-friend and for the first time in recent history – almost unbelievably – Kingpin admitted that his great genetic trouser-bulge had lost its charm to woo the crowd.

Now, the stage was void of one-eyed-monsters which, of course, human nature does not allow. Then all groups, including the People Pleasure group, scrambled for the stage.

However, this time, the stage was too small to accommodate all of their veiny-nuclear-reactors. The short-tempered energy of the crowd subsided and they put their limp-meats away.

The arena quietened and soon jeered. The not-so-fun time had come. The stage had been sold and a calendar had been created on who would be there and when. Where’s the fun in the game? And where is the drive for economic prosperity?

Once again, the crowd demanded the contest to continue because it was high time that the quest for economic prosperity began.

In the final turn of events, these imbecile groups ruined the game. Without consulting any authority, they decided that they would routinely swap roles on who would lay down the trail of load – but wait, who is the authority anyway? No one. So, the rules completely changed by the virtue of ego.

The crowd was taken aback. What had happened? Every couple of months (not even years), one group would climb on stage and would want everyone to follow their trail of jizz.

However, all that preceding craziness had taken a toll. Their sausages had gone limp by age. Their whipping was nowhere worthy of awe.

The arena quietened and soon jeered. The not-so-fun time had come. The stage had been sold and a calendar had been created on who would be there and when. Where’s the fun in the game? And where is the drive for economic prosperity?

What a waste of time? This country now needs a fresh group of stiff rods.