Last Week: Monday

Quote of the day: If the Cincinnati Reds were really the first major league baseball team, who did they play? - George Carlin

Last week had been a rather slow week in camp. There was hardly anything to do, or, if there was, I was hardly doing anything about it. So I went through the increasingly-familiar process of entertaining myself. On Monday, I tried talking to myself in the self-created language I call, Sataysk. "Mmmgolgolnyak baaadmooseek," I had said to myself as I sat in the office.

To my surprise, from somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, a deep voice replied in a crisp, sophisticated English accent. "I would rather not," it said. The voice spoke in a slow, deliberate manner, as if afraid my brain would have severe internal haemorrhaging if it spoke any faster.

"Loon'chk. Hubris hubris tinkledoop?" I urged it, surprised at its reluctance, but more so at its sudden introduction.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself beforehand. I am Jamal - "

"Weeerkh," I interrupted Jamal. I had to tell him what was on my mind. "Munyi munyi lokasha Jamal."

"I may not sound like a Jamal. I know I have a more...Patrick quality about me, but that's my name when I was born, and that shall be my name until I breathe my last," Jamal said. "Nonetheless, I will not perform the act that you have asked of me."

"Krosk. Khutnee chuntah bunyanyi jani," I explained my severe boredom to Jamal. "Juhri, mui harnoonoo. Juhri, nutbirgamatu. Juhri, toom kloost dinglehooper."

"Oh very well," said Jamal, resigned. "But only because we share the same body. For despite our differences in language and perhaps, intellect, we are one in the infinite reaches of Suffian's mind."

"Rovab!" I anagram-bravo-ed Jamal at such a wondrous speech. "Goornyanyoo lamu, kirhantak kursa. Bustarkh lozana, jimoonu. Jah. Jah doori lamu."

"Very well," said Jamal, and began to perform, in the tongue of Sataysk, a 'baadmooseek'.

"My name is Jamal, though I don't look like it
Today has really been a piece of shit
I walk around this place with nothing to do
I look at Wee Hung's face and I'm reminded of poo
I should walk over there and play the playstation
But that's becoming stale like combat ration
Winning Eleven everyday ain't really that hot
If this wasn't a military camp, I'd be smoking pot
Yo, jamalize, everybody and put your hands in the air
Erm, peace," baadmooseeked Jamal.

Jamal then caught me off-guard when he said, "Alright your turn."

The spirit of Sataysk, however, had already taken control of my mouth, and I flew off the hook.

"Jununununu, lowar panu ranu
Erkhm-takdee portakh zoowarana kalu
Pergas nuity toom klost klooper
Juikh nuity toom klost dinglehooper
Murshad, hotee brackoli," I baadmooseeked back.

It was satisfying, and I went through the rest of that Monday a more entertained, more relaxed individual.