When Time Smiles: Schadenfreude

I've been putting this piece off for a very long time. I however don't think that there'll be a better day than All Hallow's Eve to post it. This is the kind of story I wouldn't read to my kids at their early age, not because it's scary, but because it was written by my darkest self. Nevertheless, the emotions through which it was written still are sinfully yet guiltlessly delicious.

This piece could be considered a parallel dimension to my first When Time Smiles, or a different persona for the same realm. Either way, I'm in love with it.

Another crumpled up paper landed on a pile of similar ones in the trash can next to his desk. He has thus far failed to come up with an ending that satisfied him. He gazed at the empty strips in disappointment and couldn't for the life of him think of anything that would decorate them to his liking. With a loud groan he stretched and lay back on his chair placing his legs up on the desk.

Some say old age teaches people unforgettable lessons, but it seems that this old man has done the exact opposite. This aged chap has conversed thoroughly with time, challenged the discourse of old age, and taught them both lessons that they should pass on. He wore rectangular framed glasses that seemed to make his narrow blue eyes even more squinted. He scratched his bald head thinking, and then rearranged the few patches of gray hair on the sides and the back of his head. He looked fine for a man his age.

After looking at the ceiling for a while, the wise man closed his eyes attempting to visualize the last page of the final installment of his world famous comic book. Many awaited this last chapter anxiously, counting on the renowned artist's power to amaze and surprise. He would hate to disappoint.

To many, inspiration has a mind of its own. It hits you like a bolt of lightning on a sunny day. It comes at the strangest of times, when you're least prepared. To him however, it was awfully different. He summoned inspiration; he beckoned it to his service. This was a man who commanded inspiration.

In a moment of sheer brilliance, the images lined up in front of his intellect each waiting its turn to be drawn on paper. He saw the end.

He picked up his pencil.

A dark moonless night engulfed the globe, its wind howled and screamed at him like a cursed banshee. The sea never sounded angrier and the sand under his feet never felt colder. He staggered across the vicious darkness looking for her. He was looking for his angel.

A sturdy mountain line stood tall in the middle of this madness, its power reinforced his dark faith and fed his demons.

A golden shimmer caught his eye, and he instantly knew that he'd found her. As he approached the glistening light he saw the beautiful golden curls that were emitting it. Her hair danced beautifully with the storm. He found his angel.

She stood in a strapless long white dress that seemed to blend with her folded wings and looked at him with beautiful blue eyes. He walked silently towards her.

Moments later, they were standing face to face. He almost smiled, but held it in, for it was not the time to smile. Not yet.

Her eyes spoke their usual beguiling charm, charm that had always enchanted him.

Not this time.

She felt sharp pain in her left side, and looked down to see a knife sticking out of it. He twisted it violently inside her, and that is when he smiled. If a smile could ever be heard, it would be his. A toothy grin looked her in the eyes, probing down to her very soul. He could hear her screaming on the inside, and it made him happy. He savored every moment of sweet pain she was enduring.

Blood streamed down her dress as her eyes widened with horror. Using his free hand he pulled her towards him. This was his final hug. She pushed him away frantically, and spread her wings to escape his wrath.

In a split second the knife had sliced her neck, and a fountain of blood sprayed his face.

Her blood was freezing cold.

He was not the least bit surprised.

She collapsed to the ground and squirmed in pain. He stood above her still smiling, for this was his angel's final descent. Her anguish was his bliss.

He laughed and she cried but neither was heard.

Silent onomatopoeias.

As she approached her demise she looked at him and spread a hand towards him, trying to hold his for the last time. He stepped on her hand crushing it in the sand.

"Rot in hell"

He put his pencil down, lit his pipe and paused for a few moments to relish his masterpiece.

"So, you killed her" a soft hand held his right shoulder

"You can't kill those whose souls are dead"

His life partner smiled. She kissed him on the cheek and left as silently as she'd come.

The old man eyed the last comic strip.

Her eyes turned stone cold. He knelt down and gently pushed her head to face the rising sun. He plucked a feather from her wings, while his creator picked up his pencil again.

In a rare moment where fiction intersects with reality, in cold blood, they both drew a smiling face on the angel's cheek.

Her cold blood.

Tonight, I Take my Demoness Out on a Date

The Song: The Undertaker – Puscifer

A Monochromatic World

Change of seasons is taking over my mind. It feels as if every particle of the incoming winter winds is touching my skin for the first time. It never felt so new. The novelty of the feeling has also brought about a question.

What was the fist season to engulf earth's hemisphere? More accurately, what were the first two seasons to embrace our Northern and Southern skies?

I personally believe that it was the Winter/Summer complexion that first interlaced in the realm that is our planet. Why I believe so has many explanations. One explanation could be my personal bias towards winter, that I consider to be the beginning of a year, summer being its end.

The second and undeniably more important explanation is Yin Yang, dualities of life and nature. From quiescence opposites are created together to complement each other in the embodiment of a larger craftwork, a greater meaning and significance. Trading places eternally until they return to quiescence, Yin and Yang shall intertwine with the meanings of our life giving rise to each other.

Black and White, Darkness and Light, Evil and Good, Night and Day, Dusk and Dawn, Winter and Summer, Love and Hate. Yin Yang doesn't believe in Fall or Spring, for they are both shades of gray. It is us humans, who believe in gray.

We need to learn, for extremes and opposites confuse and at many times vanquish us. We do embark on black and white, but we need to swim through the gray sea that separates those two islands.

That's why I believe that the first season known to Man, is Spring. Adam and Eve needed to learn, to get acquainted to the mortal life before the harsh unforgiving earthly conditions punish them and cast spells on them from which they can't break free. Thus, what better season than the heavenly spring to bring about a familiar feeling to the outcasts from heaven?

Winter and Summer maybe time's most ancient Yin Yang, and maybe the world was born in gray. Concerning the latter, I certainly hope not.

The Song: The Verve Pipe - The Freshmen

For the Love of Cairo

Good weather is good news. The current weather however, is mind blowing. To me, weather has an aroma … a flavor. Each flavor is associated with a memory, a feeling and state of mind. Fall and winter have always charmed me, but this fall is something else. Its flavor is one I haven't tasted in a very long time.

A couple of days ago I swear I could feel the heat wave break. I was sitting in a well ventilated area and a refreshing breeze took over the place. It was in such contrast with the current feel of air that I knew these were new winds. I've been in a super good mood ever since.

For the past couple of days, on my way back from the other side of town heading home, I've been taking the downtown road instead of the ugly 6^th of October Bridge. I pop my car's sun roof open, and seize the weather along with alluring beauty of the enchanting city. Cairo is one gorgeous city. My favorite. There's only one city that is as dear to me or maybe even dearer, but that's a different story for a different day.

A drive downtown, coupled by the bedazzlement of approaching winter is a remedy to almost any thirsty heart or uneasy mind. If you pay enough attention, you'll trace memories and emotions to the minuscule details of every street, square and corner of this city. I love Cairo.

Korba at dawn. Early summer, I stayed up just to see what it looks like

You can't catch the sun rising from Korba, but the break of dawn in this place still is astounding

Random Thought:

Creed, Foo Fighters and Cold new albums are due to be released throughout the upcoming month. This is shaping to be a wonderful fall, followed an exceptional winter.

The Song: The Way I Am - Staind

The Absurdity Post

Yesterday, I was talking with Sara about how something could be so absurd it is actually awesome.

To hell with contemplation and profundity. Here's to absurdity.

The Finnish president is coming to Egypt today to discuss "Issues of the Middle East" with her Egyptian counterpart.

F: "About that Middle East Mr. President"

E: "Lots of crap going on"

F: "Indeed, lots of crap"

*Chirping Cockroaches*

Then she'll meet up with the first lady, to discuss women's role in communal building of peace and security. Oh, that's original.

I mean, what the heck does Finland have to do with the Middle East? Political façades that don't even contribute to proper diplomatic ones, really annoy me.

Furthermore, the whole seminar on women with the first lady is so stereotypical and clichéd; it is actually counterproductive to the concept of women empowerment. I mean, why can't the president himself discuss that? It doesn't have to be the first lady. A man can endorse women's causes

This whole visit is ass.

I guess that was the crappy part of absurdity, not the one I mean, but I guess I brought it up to build an absurdity spectrum.

So without further ado,

How about this for absurdly awesome music:

Tenacious D: Classico and Beelzeboss (Dave Grohl from Foo Fighters is Satan, how awesome is that?)

Rodney Carrington: Dear Penis (Such an inappropriate masterpiece)

Fantabulous I tell ya.

Childhood cartoons and animes were also absurdly fantastic. I mean, soccer players who spend episodes and episodes mid-air, running or shooting a ball? A bunch of super robots beating the crap out of each other? Doesn't get any better than this…

Captain Majed!

Grendizer and Mazinger, anyone?

Simply Awesome

Notice that ماهر is actually looking towards the camera? Poser.

As to who would win if these two super bots were to scuffle, I say Grendizer. Because of him:

Duke Fleed!!

If he were to go head to head with Batman however, the Bat would hand the Duke his own ass. No one beats Batman, no one.

Speaking of handing asses, that is exactly what we're going to do to Algeria when they come to get mangled in Cairo arena on the 14^th of November. The hype for this match is absurd. Vive l'Egypte!!

اتفرج لو بتحب مصر!!

Random Absurd Thoughts:

Some people have a frown on their face early in the morning if they hadn't had their coffee yet. Lack of coffee makes them grumpy they say, so they frown. I disagree. I believe that simply brow muscles don't get the needed energy to lift the eye-brows in a normal position, except after coffee intake. Especially with thick ones like mine…

My friend picked me up today to go to work (we work together), I discovered that she is that kind of driver that would actually make me get out of my car, walk to her's and punch her in the head. She also narrates her daily driving events as they happen. She's still a beginner, and I understand. I love her for it and in absolute terms.

The radio today played "Ironic" for Alanis Morisette, which brought back oh so many memories. But I really believe the name of the song is kind of irrelevant to the lyrics. I think it'd rather be "Things that Piss me off" or "You know what Really Grinds my Gears?" the latter is copyrighted to Peter Griffin – Family Guy.

Video Game coolness is to run around eating mushrooms that make you bigger, flowers that make you throw fireballs and killing enemies by simply jumping on them. That is absurdly cool and I miss this kind of simple fun. Super Mario was and still is awesome.

Nostalgia

I'm only one week into my blogging frenzy, and I already got my first award. Sweet. Its gonna take a while to pass it on though, because being the newbie that I am, I don't know that much bloggers and not all of them are worthy of it, in my opinion. Arigato مي.

Around the office I'm usually blurting out loud linguistically wrong and occasionally inappropriate yet hilarious vocabulary (Arabic and English), beating people up, messing with others' work and picking on Dina (among others). In short, I'm the "shenanigans" kind of guy. When I'm not doing that and I'm actually working with a straight face for a change, people think I'm different. Really?!

The Song: When You Were Young – The Killers. I found this tune lying around on my hard drive accidentally and I must say, this is a great song in so many different ways.

Someone to Blame?

I never realized that he'd been virtually running my life for a while.

He deliberately hid truths from me and concealed logic, only to reveal them when he thought that the time was right.

He had the answers to all my questions, answers I should have figured out effortlessly on my own, but he always offered different ones, so that I'd learn he claimed.

When I actually got a hint of his shady presence, I looked for him only to get a glimpse of his trail. He hid well.

In my sleep he reappeared to reshuffle the arithmetics of my mind and alter the equations of my emotions. I woke up with a hangover, a bad one

If it hadn't been for him, puppeteering my every step...

He was bound to slip, and he did. In a burst of raw emotion I caught him off guard and took over the vessel that is my life.

Unfiltered emotion can disillusion a man.

I have an agreement with him now.

He accompanies us all.

He is Subconscious.

An Interesting Read

Random Thoughts:

When it comes to unfiltered raw emotions, punk rockers are the masters. Primitive and primary feelings are what they convey best, and very eloquently too. I summon the mentality of the punk rocker almost daily.

It would be honestly great if what I just scribbled was even remotely true, if we could actually blame our subconscious. We can't. We are our subconscious.

Question, exactly how many types of freaking Gillette razors are out there?!

The Song: The Hell Song – Sum 41

Stuck in Traffic

Cairo is the only city that is capable of giving a person traffic-phobia.

I hereby proclaim the hours from 6-8 pm, "Jackass Hours".

Speaking of which, my best friend is currently stuck in traffic, a different kind of traffic however. It has all the traits of the ordinary one, you're stuck in the same place for a long time, a place you hate, with no chance nor hope of moving any time soon, and the road ahead has never looked more infinite, not to mention that you're vision is blurry as a result of the flickering red lights.

He's in that phase of life, where he's stuck in traffic, huddled alongside many others. It is a one way one lane road, disproportionally crowded and everybody wants to get to their destination as soon as possible. Only few can cross at a time though…

Being the repulsive place that it is, some out of fury and impatience crash, never getting to where they think they should be. Others lose hope and turn back to somewhere they know they shouldn't be. Befriended by faith and patience, the rest reach their eventuality…

I believe in eventualities, whether you let go or squirm about, they piece together. One's actions however, may either delay the eventuality or simply let it take its natural course.

So those who keep their heads intact and wait their turn do reach the highway where the cruising is smooth and the sailing is fast to their destinations of choice. That is when despair and resentment disseminate and my favorite expression is stridently shouted:

"What the [Insert Swear Word Here] was I thinking?"

I loved roaring it and I'm going to love it all the same when my friend does too.

When he reaches the highway, I'll be standing at the side of the road next to Clara (Ma Voiture) waiting for him. I'll help him decide where to go next, and vice versa.

Anything short of a thermo-nuclear explosion can be handled

Random Thoughts:

I've been wondering why sappy over-romantic people are called "cheesy". I never really got it, but it did occur to me that when someone farts he "cuts the cheese". I honestly can't think of a better opposite to romance than a loud ghastly fart. So you're "cheesy" when you're pulling off puppy love stunts, but when you "cut it" – the cheese – you're pulling off a totally different kind of stunt. Well, what do you know? It seems that these two expressions are in fact related.

I realize that this is a bit late but, Go Africa! I guess Brazil can actually lose at soccer.

The Song: زحمة يا دنيا زحمة – احمد عدوية

" مرحبا بكم في الطراوة "

I was at the office yesterday, because I do work Saturdays. My only comment on this matter is a fantabulous statement usually made by an old buddy of mine on occasions like these.

"Tis' the eat of the Bread"

Well said my friend. Well said.

So, as I was doing my usual morning international news round up, these were the latest news:

Egypt delays the signing of the Palestinian unity deal:

According to Egyptian officials, the delay is apparently because they're "waiting for a better atmosphere". Well, the initial purpose of the agreement is to provide a better atmosphere, n'est-ce pas? I mean, if the circumstances were already stable, what would all the negotiation and mediation be needed for. So, we're waiting for better times to come about in order sign an agreement that would make things better? This makes no sense to me. Sometimes I feel that governments are either too lazy, or they just simply suck.

9 killed, 3 wounded in Iraq mosque attack:

Oh, that's news.

U.S. Disappointed by U.N. Council’s Vote on Goldstone Report:

Apparently the U.S. is planning on voting against the report that incriminates Israel for the bloody shenanigans they pulled off in Gaza early this year, which are also known as war crimes. As to why they're going to vote against the resolution:

'State Department spokesman Ian Kelly said October 16 that the U.S. decision to vote against the resolution “in no way diminishes the deep concern that we have about the tragic events of last January” and the suffering they caused to Palestinians in Gaza and Israelis in southern Israel.

“We believe very firmly that Israeli and Palestinian children deserve the right to grow up without the threat of violence and without the kind of conflict that we saw last January,” he said.

However, U.S. officials believe the resolution had “an unbalanced focus,” and are concerned that “it will exacerbate polarization and divisiveness” at a time when the Obama administration is working to bring Israelis and Palestinians together for talks that would lead to a two-state solution.'

To the U, S and A: Why don't you take your vote, and SHOVE IT!

Pakistan Launches Taliban Assault:

Ok, we all saw that coming. But I have a comment right here. On BBC News, they published a profile of the new Taliban leader, who's obviously the new bad ass prodigy who should guide "La Résistance" to victory. Attached to the profile was his picture:

So, here's my remark: What kind of a bad ass leader of a grand military group, poses for a picture like this?! I mean, shouldn't he look Bin Ladenlishly intimidating? He looks queer, and I'm so not intimidated.

I never thought I'd ever say this with sincerity and meaningfulness, but please do give peace a freaking chance. If Lennon only knew...

Random Thoughts:

Political analysts and writers should not use the word cleavage in any article, analysis or news piece. It is funny and insinuating - at least to a mind like mine - so it laughs me out of the solemn political context. Now that I think of it, they shouldn't use the word crack either...

Pinky and the Brain are two lab rats whose daily plan is to take over the world. Pinky was the one who did the dirty work - being the stupid one - and Brain masterminded the mischievous plans. It seems that the world has become overloaded with the likes of those rats lately. The only difference is, there are no Brains, only Pinkys.

I acted like a groupie yesterday, never thought I would. Rooting for a best friend apparently does that to you. Blue Suede Shoes also got played on stage last night, which was elevating to say the least.

I think I just got engaged to my job. This marriage cannot be completed. Break up ideas, anyone?

Speaking of work, I need new office music. Any recommendations?

The Song: Give Peace a Chance - John Lennon

Ink on paper is not how they should remain

Yesterday, I watched one of my high school best friends perform in his first gig. It was simply awesome, and what makes it even bigger is that he'd been wanting it for the past 7 years, ever since high school. Not only that but "The" (his band's name) has actually qualified to the final six, and are competing again tomorrow.

Reminder: this was their first gig.

Thought at the back of my head: I think the band's name is kickass.

As I watched him rock on stage, I couldn't help but remember the times he almost gave up. I actually thought he'd given up…

Amidst graduation, job hunting and god knows what other crap, I'd simply forgotten about his dreams and he'd forgotten about mine, which is only natural. Dreams are remembered solely by their dreamers, and none other. He managed to remind me of his dreams though.

One day he was my high school mate, the next day he calls me up and I realize that he's my high school mate who managed to cross something off his life's to-do list. Now, that is galvanizingly inspiring.

I've crossed out a few myself, but god knows the big ones are still there teasing and taunting me.

"Dreams age faster than dreamers" - Stephen King

This is one of the few quotes that I consider a fact. A scary one. It isn't scary just because it implies that at one point in time, one's dreams my die of old age. It is scary because it reflects how man's procrastination can make him ignore what he wants, consequently forgetting it and eventually putting it to sleep. It is scary because once you kill your own dream, you have yourself to blame and regret might in turn kill you. That's my take on it anyway…

I want to leave this world with a completely crossed out to do list.

To dreams.

I guess even Coconuts have dreams

The Song: Shallow – Porcupine Tree

Tant Mieux Pour Moi !

Now that the ashes of what was once a black fire have been gusted and blown away by ataraxia, I can in all confidence say that I am exactly where I want to be. Standing in the eye of the tornado that is life, it is explosively calm. I look up to the sky and smile. It is just so…serene. I smile inside and out, but I make sure that the sardonicism of my inner one is clearly heard.

I need to write more often, not only tales and stories, but reflections. It's time I took Sara's advice and wrote everyday. I have promised myself not to indulge in self proclamations and anecdotal recounting of who and what I am, because in doing so one really runs the risk of rubbing shoulders with mediocrity. So, my reflections will manifest layers of my being, just like my stories did. I honestly don't believe that I possess any wisdom worth sharing; I can only observe reflect and write.

I've been handling my writings here in a solemn way that implied that I am some brooding individual. I am not.

That needs to change.

Random Thoughts:

Quintessential pleasure and happiness in life for me is doing something I love and am passionate about, thus writing + politics = kickass job. This job has become as important to me as the Blue Suede Shoes were to Elvis.

If I were to state one reason that makes me want to be Batman, Bats has a thing going on with Wonder Woman. Period.

Bruce (a.k.a lucky bastard) and Diana

Yes, I do realize it's a comic book character, but still !

The Song: Passe Le Temps – Souad Massi. The ineffably beautiful lyrics and the bewitching music, make for an amazing early morning or late night drive tune.

Chronicles of the Bat; Part one: Gotham was a Piece of Cake

Well, I got a PS3. God, I should have gotten this splendid machine way back. Simply, the second you hold the gorgeously designed stupendously comfortable controller in your hands and start playing, all problems and nuisances seem to disappear and whither away. It has brought back a fun a factor I had forgotten about and obviously direly missed. It has also in a way, brought inspiration.

As a result of playing a game for 3 nights in a row and of course eventually beating it, I have admittedly grown a bit of an obsession with the main character of the game, who in fact already is a childhood hero of mine. The game's name is Batman: Arkham Asylum. Enough said.

As I assumed the role of the Bat for the length of the relatively short game, a cartoony light bulb formed on the top of my head but was only lit last night when I was in bed and in desperate need of sleep. I stayed up till 9 am.

So, I'm putting off two pieces that are to be the epitome of my emotional evolution and writing skill, just to write this one for fear of its volatility. I'm not sure if this piece classifies as a burlesque, but it’s a different approach of testing my abilities as a raconteur. This fan-fictionish piece should – if satisfactory – be a part of many, and it for the purpose of the story will include Franco-Arab slang…

A huge mansion stood tall at the far end of Qattameya Heights in El Tagamo3 El Khames, Cairo. The Mansion was dark inside and out, whereas only one room seemed to be demonstrating forms of life and was indeed quite noisy.

"Ya akhy 7aram 3ala 2ommak!! Kharrag ya 3am abo sha3r da we nazel Bogy!! Law makansh bas el wad Bogy da Zamalkawy…mesh moshkela ma3lesh, el mohem el montakhab"

An excited man sat on a lazy boy with a can of coke in a hand and a slice of pizza in the other watching a soccer match, which was now a 2-2 deadlock, infuriating him. He was in his mid-thirties of dark rugged and fairly handsome features, but an onlooker would not see that given his current state. He was only in blue and white striped boxers and was shouting angry profanities at the LCD TV. Abruptly getting up to wash his hands and to get another can of coke, he looked out the window, grimaced and blurted out a 3 letter common Egyptian swear word.

"Yel3an abo de shoghlana ya akhy! Ana mesh fahem eh elly ramany 3al araf da!"

Across Cairo's sky was a floating giant turd, which – without Cairo's polluting fumes and numerous interfering lights – should be the Bat-signal. It was a turd only he could recognize…

Having washed his hands in a hurry the hero grabbed his Bat-Cell and phoned "Abd El Kerim" a low-ranking police officer (Amin Shorta), with whom he agreed to raise the signal whenever there was trouble. He does however recall that the signal was Abd El Kerim's idea, instead of simply just calling him or sending him a text message:

"Ya beh mana mesh beyeb2a ma3aya rasid we kalemny shokran bakhalas-ha 3ala Mourad basha (his superior officer) wel gama3a, wenta 3aref el as3ar el yomeen dool 7ara2a. Hala2eeha meneen ana wala meneen, enta 3aref enny akhdemak be 3enaya ya basha, bas eb2a edeny 7a2 el mowaslat bas."

"Hmmf...Mashy ya Abd El Kerim"

"Basha?"

"Na3am"

"Howa enta labes keda leh?"

"…"

After having to last through a whole minute of "El 3abd wel Shetan" instead of a normal ringing tone, Abd El Kerim didn’t pick up.

"God damn it!!"

He decided to get ready and geared up till the idiot decides to pick up. A big vintage grandfather clock overshadowed the main corridor connecting different sectors of the mansion together. Standing in front of the clock, the dark hero placed his right hand on the clock to get his print read, hence opening the secret door behind the clock, which is the entrance to the Bat-Cave/ Mansion-Garage.

"Your version of Windows is not genuine. Please insert disc #2 of Windows Vista Bat Edition to install Print Reader"

"Ass!! God damn this downloaded garbage!"

The Bat however always had contingency plans. He reached to the side of the clock and pulled a small lever. A small laptop popped out of the middle of the clock, he was going to enter a password manually.

"Umm…what was it again?"

Never having had to use this utility before, the Bat had of course forgotten his password. That's when the "Have you forgotten your password?" button shone like a full moon in a starless night. He clicked on it and the security question accordingly came up:

"What is my favorite animal?"

"Duh, that's a no-brainer"

"Puppies"

He thanked god for putting an easy question for himself to remember later, or else he would have had to break in his own crime fighting headquarters. The password was sent to his e-mail: bat_ass@ hotmail.com, he retrieved his Bat-Cave password and eventually entered.

"Goaaaaaaaaaal" he heard the joyful cheers echoing all around.

"Shit"

By snapping his utility belt on, the Bat 5 minutes later was dressed to kill, literally. He hopped in the Batmobile, grabbed his Bat-Cell and phoned "3obad" again.

"Ba2et tel3ab boookaar, we beteshrab joon wookar, agogogogogo….BASHA!!"

"Makontesh betrod leh be#$%#@$#"

"Ma3lesh ya basha, kont malhy fel match!"

"Hmmf...olly, fe eh?"

"Fe 3arka fe share3 metwally el motafare3 men share3 el haram"

"Mate3rafsh feen share3 metwally da bezzabt?"

"Wallahy 3elmy 3elmak ya basha"

"…"

The Batmobile's powerful engine roared to life, and he started heading out of the mansion"

"Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal"

Slicing the unforgiving Egyptian roads like a chainsaw cutting wood, the awesome machine started its journey to the destination where citizens are to be rescued. A quick fuel stop was needed first though. As the car approached the gas station, one of the workers made the well known victory sign with is fingers, which is a way of asking customers whether they want 92 gas pumped in their cars. That Batmobile's glass is tainted black, so Bats had to pop the hatch open and nod to the worker indicating that he does want 92. The worker shook his head in response.

"Kheles!!" the worker proclaimed smiling

"What the ass!! Then why was he leading me on? Is this some sort practical joke? Why can't they hang a sign instead of this bullcrap?"

The car screeched away heading to second nearest gas station. Valuable time was being wasted.

As he was getting his car fueled in the next station, a worker kept harassing him with different oils and accessories for his car.

"Monaqqy injection el mator?"

"Shokran"

"Zeit tash7eem sawareekh el 3arabeya?"

"Shokran. Mesha7am"

"Fawa7a?" the worker smartly dangled a small air freshener that looked like a bat hanging upside down in front of Bats"

"Hmm…bekam de?"

"Khally ya basha, wallahy khally, 8 geneh bas. Ahem, lamo2akhza fel so2al ya basha bas enta labes keda leh?"

Out of the station and on the road, Bats rocketed through El-Da2ery, making good time.

"By this rate, I'll be there in no time"

Bats spoke too soon. He had totally forgotten about the police checkpoint that is usually active at this time of day. The Batmobile stood motionless in traffic jam over the Nile. There was no other option but to wait. Accordingly, the caped crusader decided to listen to some music to kill time. He switched the radio on…

100.6: " We 7obbo leya ya alby kan…7ob emtelak "

104.2: "Hello hello helloo…you are now with Khaled Mat..."

"Hell no"

Quickly realizing that there's no need to be upset, Bats punched a couple of buttons on his car computer and it started writing his favorite playlist on a disc. Yes, the Bat has a gadget for everything. About 10 minutes later the traffic jam had unraveled and he was fast and steady on his way.

"UD tiss, UD tiss, UD tiss…" a car full of young guys listening to loud house music was speeding up next to him and for no apparent reason was trying to overtake him. It seems that the lads were turned on (sekhno) by the mobile's speed and their macho competitiveness kicked into drive.

"This is too easy. I'm the God damn Batman $#$#%$" he spoke the truth. Without sparing a moment of his precious time, Bats eased the Batmobile past the over-excited youth and practically drove circles around them.

"Easy as pie"

"Teet teet teeeeeteeeeetet" accompanied by the usual right blinker - left blinker was the response of the defeated vehicle as it drove away. Very creative indeed…

Not much later the Batmobile was slithering its way around El Haram Street looking for Metwally Street.

"Elly yes2al maytohsh" he pulled over to ask fellow citizens for directions. Big mistake.

Half of the directions he got actually described the road to nowhere mentioned in many songs. The other half however started with "Bossssss", and people saved no effort in this opening word, thus spraying it on the Bat's face instead of saying it. The particles landed on the covered and uncovered parts of his face, and were equally disgusting. The Bat had to use his superior detective skills to piece the directions to the street, occasionally having to filter unnecessary comments said by pedestrians such as:

- "Howwa ma2alaksh feen?"

- "Leh?"

- "Howwa...enta gayeb el 3edda de 3ala kam" accompanied by an intruding head inside the car.

And of course a personal favorite:

- "Howa enta labes keda leh?"

He finally knew where the place was, drove there and entered the street. His keen senses and sharp eyesight instantly led him to where the fight was, he slammed the breaks, hopped out of the car and ran towards the crowd.

As he drew near the crowd an old guy intercepted him. The old guy. The old guy who magically appears in every fight to solve it. One would safely assume that there's one planted in every street for that sole purpose.

"HOOAAB, raye7 feen?"

"Raye7 al7a2 el nas de"

"Laa..makhalas etsal7o"

"Ezai, da fe nas say7a fe damaha"

"De kam ta3weera, da kalam faregh matakhodsh fe balak. Aslohom gabo le ba3d nas, bas khalas 7alenaha be 2amr ellah" the freaking "negeeb nas" theory.

"Ma3lesh fe nas gheltet we lazem tet3akeb" Batman was justice's fighting front.

"Ba2ollak eh, enta 3ayez tesagharny odamhom wala eh!! Ba2ollak gabaret yabny" now the "tasgheer/takbeer" theory.

"…Mashy ya 7ag" he didn't know what else to say nor do.

"Teslam yabny, yalla etekel 3ala allah men hena belly enta labso da 3ashan el 3eyal hatetlam 3aleek we mesh haye3ta2ook"

"…"

Mentally worn out, Bats walked back to his car, his head down. To him, this had been complete and utter bullshit. He reached the car, took a look at it and let out a loud sound occasionally used by Egyptians to express extreme anger or irritation which sounds more or less like a pig's snort depending on the power put into the nose-mouth inhale technique. The Batmobile's rear left tire was held by tire-cuffs (Kalabshat) and of course a ticket was spit glued on the car's hatch, because the car was double parked.

"Yeah, throughout my crime fighting campaign I'm expected to beat up thugs, bring down criminal gangs, while managing to stay alive AND parallel park? I hate this city"

During the next 10 minutes the Bat investigated where the officers were so he can set his car free, and discovered that they won't be around till next morning because a high ranking official was arriving for a business dinner at Mena House, and they were all moved to organize the traffic in that area and provide security.

Of course the Dark Knight could've simply gotten a gadget out of his utility belt that would unlock the cuffs, but superheroes are not above the law.

"Taxi!!"

"3ala feen?"

"El Tagamo3"

"50 geneh"

"40, da meshwary kol yoom ya za3im"

"Khalas ne2sem el balad nosseen, 45"

"…Mashy"

Bats entered the cab, rolled his cape (which was then gray with dirt instead of black) inside the car and slammed the door shut.

"Salamo 3aleko"

"We 3alekom el salam"

"..."

"2alla…enta labes keda leh ya beh? Enta kont fe 7afla tankoreya wala eh? He3 he3 he3!!!"


"Ugh…"

The Song: Never Know - Jack Johnson