Fiction (Thank Heaven of Secrets!)

Oh Diary, Oh Dear: March 31, 1984

You won’t believe what’s happening!!!!!

D.I.A.R.Y!

There’s SO much going on, I don’t even know where to begin!

Oh, but wait, how R U? I hope U R doin’ ok? (I’m trying out this dope new slang thing so please be down with it!)

Anyhoo so, there’s this groupa girls doing this whole diary sharing thing.

Which is, like, basically them blaring their dirty secrets on some futuristic virtual boombox.

And they keep using my name, right? Like, Preeti this and Preeti that.

But here’s the thing — and you know this — I’M NOT EVEN BORN YET! Barf me out! Ok fine, it’s all fiction and stuff, but like, seriously?

D-U-H.

Besides, what’s with the West and their obsession with girly names starting with the letter “S” or “K”

And sheesh, no innovation! They’re all the same, just with tiiiiiny spelling mistakes. Susan, Sally, Saucy, Sissy, Sassy, Kristi, Kristine, Kristen, Kristina, Kirkland, K-Pop, Kinky. I mean, like, what even. EEW!

Except that last one there — Kinky — that sure suits them reaaaaaallly well. They’re always talking about boys and kissing and sex and abs and nudes and making out and peeing. LIKE, HELLO, I’M JUST AN UNBORN BABY!

You know what’d be rad though? If I went to the cops with this and they all get arrested. Now that’d be a story worth telling, huh? Dweebs.

My Indian pals An-juh-lee, Go-Raav and Vee-Dee-Ya (stoopid white pronunciations!)

They keep telling me to forget about it and focus on praying for Amma to have a good birthing experience. I get it, I really do — and I love them and stuff — but they’re like, such nerds. Always so kind and good, collecting smiles with their phat jokes.

But I think they love some juicy gossip too. Like, the other day our mothers were chit-chatting over some chai and masala vadas, and we were telepathically communicating with each other, when Gaurav said his balls hurt.

Anjali, Vidya and I snorted out amniotic fluid laughing because dude, like, did he even have balls then? I mean, physically speaking, of course.

He cried a little and his Mama clutched her tummy in pain, so we believed him. And he said — and I quote —

“Bee-ko and Small-ew did it. They think they’re really handsome with their boy-toy mullets and hats and handstands, and were HARD trying to impress 1 of the 28 K-named girls.

They kept making these really bad jokes that the girls didn’t CARE about — no one even understood them! Then they tried removing their clothes — and, none of the 32 Ks batted their eyelids STILL.

And then they picked up a Ken barbie doll and started punching his balls. Well, Beeeko first licked it (GROSS!!!!) and then put his pinky to play with it, but Smallewwwww kept punching.

That Ken was me. They were doing voodoo. Ken’s balls were my balls.”

Bombdiggity WHAT!

(Pssst: Before slipping into food coma after getting a taste of the chai and snacks, G-boy confessed to having a BIGTIME crush on Ade, the cute girl who hates being photographed! He fell in love with her grumpy face. D’awwww)

Ooooooooooops, gotta go! Amma’s got her piano lessons with Bernice Aunty, so I gotta bounce Diarie Dearie, I love youuuuu!

KiKi Walter Sally Prag Gaurav Jain Bernice Puzon Adelina Vasile Kristine Laco Kristen Stark BichoDoMato Smillew Rahcuef Reuben Salsa Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles Susan McCorkindale Anjali Joshi

Want more “D” for Drama in your “L” for Life? Read the diary entries of the Ks and S. Go on, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret.

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