Cheeniya And His Alter Ego

Wow! How did I miss this thread? Oh dear! CS (original) and Iravati (original) are enough to make me split my sides laughing. Now these alter egos of CS and Iravati appear on the scene and so does PS Mami's! Oh Lord! What am I to do? My split sides are splitting further into subatomic particles.

Lord: Go call your Alter Ego to deal with them!

 

Alt-S: I will find another host. With Ira and Chen the place is a circus, now with my counterpart Satchi, it will turn into a vaudeville.
Alt-I: Who is Chen? We have a Chinese rambler also in this Indian melee?
Alt-C: Chen is that Changeling Cheeniya. One day a lizard, then a fly, then a pup and this morning a tomcat.

Alt-S: I think we should let those monkeys S, I, C embarrass themselves. Don't rush to their aid if they summon us.
Alt-I: Is Cheeniya Chinese? I didn't know that.
Alt-C: True, we should not rush. Let the Lord nurse their tomfool souls.

Alt-S: Agreed.
Alt-I: You said Cheeniya is a tomcat and now tomfool. Is he a cat or what and then again, is he a Chinese cat or what. I am very confused. Is anyone listening to me?
Alt-C: Agreed.

Alt-I: Ok, I think Cheeniya converted to Confusianism and changed his name to Chen. But is he still a cat or not?

 

Alt-Ira: Don't you find these two odd?

Alt-Sri: Ye', I find that Ira slightly neurotic like Felix Ungar when it comes to food, though the Oscar Madison in Cheeniya is quite patient with her wittering.

At-Ira: No, not that odd but oddities in their discussions. I mean, they talk about Mark Twain in one thread, then Hadeley Chase in another, then Dandin and Dante, do they have any locus or focus?

Alt-Sri: He has never been the kinds to restrict to a topic and she has never been the types to honour a "period" more than a "comma" in their drawn out expositions on human condition. She can tralala tirelessly!

Alt-Ira: And now Cats and English! Jeez! How can a dog thread be so beaten out of shape?

Alt-Sri: Their conversations are as disjointed as the narratives in If on a winter's night a traveler by the Italian writer Italo Calvino. You think you grasped a plot, but by next turn you are in a different plot. Their diverging topics are more divergent than Calvino's storylines. They will give a run for money to Calvino's nested plots.

Alt-Ira: Y'know by the time they exhaust themselves of topics what would happen?

Alt-Sri: All ink and rubber gone from the planet!

Alt-Ira: That and more. They both would erect that Borgesian Library of Babel in this senile corner. They would have typed out every word, every construct, every sentence, every theme and every conversation that could happen between two people.

Alt-Sri: Let's call it "Library of Ramble", rather than glorifying it as "Library of Babel"! Stay clear of them.

 

Alt-Ira: Should that title be changed to "Of cats and men"?
Alt-Sri: Never mind, today is cats, tomorrow is reindeers, and next, they will revive even the dead dodo. They have no theme or logic.
Alt-Ira: True. Left to their own devices they will cover the entire animal kingdom. You asked, how they keep track of their discussions.
Alt-Sri: Ye'.
Alt-Ira: They hold on to each other's tail.

 

George Orwell: Objection! Injunction! All animals from any farm belong to me. I have the exclusive copyrights on them. Sri and Ira cannot pirate my farm leitmotif. They better stick to their human counterparts in their ramblings.

James Joyce: Cut it out! Such heavy-handed legacy brings doom. Recall, what happened to my literary cats. I bequeathed by cat collection alongside other works to my grandson, Stephen Joyce, and till date he doesn't permit anyone to quote my work, and still quibbles about that Irish coin. We should democratise our creations.

Doctor Moreau: Excuse me, where can I find spare animal parts?

Rudyard Kipling: ('Wait up, I will be joining the Hathi march shortly') Guys, you can fight it out as much as you like on farm animals and lab animals but the Jungle is mine. They cannot caricature my unmolested jungle animals in their jungli ramble.

Richard Bach: ('Up up and away!') Land animals are passée. Who cares for them anyway, as long as Sri and Ira don't trespass the skies and sabotage my Jonathan Seagull. Who cares about tails and flippers!

Master Splinter: Hullo! My turtles are in ninjutsu training, can you keep the voice down. What a ruckus!

Doctor Moreau: Does anyone have a spare rib?

Kenneth Grahame: ('Toad, no, I said no Ferrari for you'). Listen, we should share our animals with Sri and Ira, or else they will take to dead animals.

Michael Crichton: Ha! Over my dead body!