Oh poor reader, how much pain do I put you in. I tell you nothing beforehand, do I? No worries, I’m explaining everything. I told you how we both, Me and Someone, came to Antarctica to be fishermen, right? Well, no one wants to be just a fisherman. Ummm, No One does, as I’m No One. I’m saying no one does. When someone crosses half the hemisphere, he wants to be more than a fisherman. Once again, lemme clarify, I’m not talking about Someone. Coz he did. I mean, he didn’t. Ugghhh…I’ll start over.
One year back, the ASSES (American-Soviet System of European Systems) developed a system that allowed complex systems to run more systematically than ever before. A very systemic thing, if you ask me. ASSES contacted us, more like convinced us into joining their new Expedition, F*CK (Fisherman with Chronic Knowledge; * = Terms and Conditions Apply). F*CK ASSES as they called the expedition, much to the dismay of the Director of ASSES, who no one really cared about. I did, no one did.
I was codenamed as No One. Another candidate was codenamed as Someone. And we embarked upon the journey to conquer the 7th continent. Neither of us knew what our mission was, much like you, in fact we still don’t, but I’ve a good feeling that all this wasn’t just to out cast two awkward human beings as fishermen in the Antarctic.
“BTW, You guys know why you’re here?”, That One said. “Nope. But we do know why YOU are here. YOU are our enemies. The Director of ASSES said that to me personally.” “And to me as well”, I chimed in, thus hinting at, who the speaker of the previous line was. “You seriously don’t know why you’re here?”, This One showed concern. “I don’t wanna laugh at you or anythin’, coz seriously neither do we know why we’re here! Except that we were told to knock your door and knock each other out and wait for the both of you, our enemies, to pull us into your rooms. Someone said that to us before we left Euro…NO, not Someone, someone back home did, I don’t quite remember who it was!”
So, that’s what the scenario was. Two men, Two women, One Sweater all stranded in Antarctica. Two of them are fishermen. Two of them are Women of 1754 or whatever the year it is now, and one is a sweater that’s no more shaking as the person in it has stopped doing so thanks to his Sympathetic Lumbosacral Outflow diverting the blood away from the viscera to the peripheries!
And then the phone rang. All four of us searched our pockets, only This One pulled out the one still ringing. She received the call. A heavy voice spoke at the other end. Five minutes later she disconnected the call, looked at me and said, “Seems like we’re a Team now!”
What happens next has been classified by ASSES but sometime in the future it may be released into the public domain.
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