Jab Tak Hai Jaan

WARNING: Violent stuff. Read at your own risk.

I made sure to arrive at Inox early. While I had booked the show for 'Jab Tak Hai Jaan' show online,  I was notified that due to the server being down, the reservations had to be done by personally coming at the Box Office. My Hummer pulled up at eight o'clock on the dial of my Tag Heuer. I stepped out dressed in a black dress by Valentino, shoes by Prada, Versace glares and wearing Clive Christian perfume. I approached the Box Office, eyeing a group of layabout fatties. Moving past them, I stood in front of the queue.

"Hey, do you work here?" one of the fatties asked.

Enraged that anyone would think I would stoop so low as to work in sales and that anyone would think someone with my body, tan and clothing would even conceive the notion of so much as taking a measly internship at such an establishment, I managed to keep my cool and tell him no.

"Then the line starts over there," he said, pointing at the end of the queue. I conveniently ignored him.

For the next half an hour, I stood in front of the Inox box office watching people through my Versace glares. There were two hot dudes, a tall muscular guy and a short haired lean guy with a long neck, that turned me on. Suddenly, three of the fatties from the group behind me came up to me and started to hassle my stake as the legitimate first person in the queue. One of the fatties, the shortest, wore a cheap basketball shorts that he might have taken out of a dumpster and a v neck tee that revealed too much of man breasts. His sight alone angered me.

"You are not going in first. We are here since seven thirty", the fatso argued. 

I tried to remain calm, even though they had touched my last nerve and somehow kept my hand away from the pocket knife in my Gucci purse.

"You get out of this line or I will make you get out!", the repulsive fatso yelled.

I took out my purse, removed two thousand rupees and stuffed the money in his shirt's pocket. The box office opened, and I bought the ticket for the premiere show that night. I went to my Hummer and kept an eye out for that fatso. As they were leaving, I stepped out of the Hummer topless and invited that fatso in. I made sure his group hadn't seen me and once he entered my ride, I chloroformed him. I took him to my other apartment at Cuffe Parade where I kept all my Shah Rukh Khan items. I'm proud of all the SRK items I own & I'm sure they are worth crores of rupees. 

About ten minutes later, we reach my apartment. Nobody is around and even the watchman is busy chatting with the newspaper guy. As I live on the groundfloor, it was easy for me to just slide the fatso into my apartment. I undressed that despicable fatso, re-pocketing the two thousand rupees. I tied him to my bed. It looked like he had never exercised even a day in his life. I waited for him to wake up and he straightaway started screaming. First, I cut its bottom lip off and then one of his ears. I mocked him by talking into his ears and then threw it aside. Blood had run onto his chest. I cut that off next. Then I cut off his privates and stuffed it down his throat. His struggling and helplessness had me so turned on that I came in my Victoria's Secret panty.

Finally, I shoved the knife into his throat and pulled it out so I could watch him bleed to death. But before he lost consciousness, I procured a larger knife and sawed off his head. I took a picture of it with my Sony Xperia S. I called the guy who took care of all the bodies and told him to clear everything out before I return in an hour.

That night, I saw Shah Rukh with his family and even the fattie group. I couldn't help but smile at the irony. That fatso got killed over a movie called 'Jab Tak Hai jaan'. Poor guy. Never knew he had it coming. After the movie, I went upto Shah Rukh, shook his hand and clicked a snap with him.

Once at my apartment, I was relieved to find that there was no trace of blood on Shah Rukh's poster of 'Darr' above my bed. If only Shah Rukh knew, how much impact his 'Darr' had on me, he would be so proud of me.