Prose of the week is by Srijani Ganguly and is called Limerick 3019.

To read the full prose and see more art work like image above by Cairan Og Arnold click here.

Limerick 3019

Oro had been walking, her uninterested limbs moving in a slow funeralesque gait, towards her place of work when a sight before her put a stop to it. There, right in the middle of O'Connell Street, near where Penneys used to stand, a small crowd of varying heights had gathered. There were 15 of them, all craning their necks to have a better look at what the centre beheld. Whisperings of ‘What is it?’, ‘What could it be?’ and ‘Do you think it’s that doctor fella?’ were hovering over them. And all of it, coupled with the realisation that she would have a reason to go late into office, pulled Oro into the mid-pavement web of people.

She thought of tapping a taller man to make way for her and almost raised a hand to do so, but then remembered she hated their towering gaze and, instead, breathed ‘Sorry, excuse me’ above the shoulders of a teenage girl and gently pushed herself deeper into the circle of onlookers. A dark purple telephone booth with a chair inside – that was all there was... wait, no... there was a man standing next to it. An ordinary-looking man, Oro thought, who could be mistaken for being attractive in a certain light. He looked to be out of some period film, dressed in a crisp white shirt, a dark grey vest with a black tie tucked in inside it, a black coat and pants to go along with it, and on top of his head, a shiny black hat. It was called something specific, the hat he was sporting, but Oro couldn’t recall what it was. He had a cane in his left hand, which he was tapping impatiently on the ground while looking around, waiting for more people to surround him so that he could begin the spectacle. And, perhaps, Oro’s addition had done the trick, for soon he cleared his throat and began, his voice devoid of any accent:

“Ladies and gents, and little children, welcome! Welcome to the most wondrous entertainment avenue of your lifetime.” He swung the cane and pointed at an old man. “Do you feel bored with the television?” he asked. “Yes,” came the feeble reply. “And you!” he turned around and swished the stick in front of a young boy, “Do you think all games are the same? That you are in need of a better, more immersive experience?” The boy nodded and the sharply-dressed man flicked the accessory in his hand and looked directly into Oro’s eyes. “And what about you? Don’t you find your work draining? Don’t you want something else out of your life?” She opened her chapped lips to say ‘yes’, but he had already moved on to the next person.