June Edition: Dark Fright & the Seven Dwarfettes and other stories

The write club magazine June 2018 edition has a total of four stories from four different authors. The count dropped, I know. Even I did not see this coming.

My story this month is not really a story – story, it’s a monologue. And if that’s not enough, I actually call it, “Bossy-Flossy Monologues”. I had written this in one of the WC exercises hosted by Anil.

Well, the protagonist (The boss) I have to admit, was hugely inspired by the character of “Micheal Scott” from “The Office.” But honestly, you could see certain characteristics of every typical corporate boss in that character (or so I think).

Anyway, the stories are out now and you could read and tell me yourself, whether you have come across someone like that in real life or not. Excerpts of the featured story and my story can be read below.

The kindle version can be bought (free for kindle unlimited users) from here.


Dark Fright And The Seven Dwarfettes

~ Chethna Ramesh

(Genre: Humor)

She was sexy. Not just nice-figure sexy. Oh, that is just so cliché. She was the whole package of sheer, raw sensuality and loads of oomph rolled into one. Her voice was as rich and languid, as pure dark chocolate, darker than…well my skin, perhaps.

And damn, she was fair. Not fair, as in, you know what the south Indians call ‘milky-white’, as-white-as-milk fair? No, she was a medium shade of fair, what they describe as ‘wheatish’ in the matrimonial con ads. Did you know that ‘wheatish’ was not even a word in the Oxford dictionary, until very recently? Poor brown-colored Indians, usually get fucked in more ways than one.

Anyways, this is a story you would have read in your fairy tale books as a child. However, in my version, fate decided to twist it according to her pathetic whims and add some spice in the end too. Yes, given the way she thinks, fate is definitely a woman, but let’s not go there. That’s another story for another day.

Nonetheless, this Goddess I spied from across the vast expanse of the stage was exquisite, not only in her acting prowess but also…well, everything else.

And I wasn’t the only one swooning over her beauty out here. Oh no! I probably have only another two hundred thousand dudes around the country competing with me, for her to know about our existence on the planet.

‘Ain’t she gorgeous, Fright?’ The raspy voice startled me. I turned towards it, turned down rather. I had to crane my neck downwards because the owner of the voice was only two feet tall.

‘Yeah, she is, Khushi,’ I replied.

Dark Fright & the Seven Dwarfettes and other stories

And yes, you heard that right, my name is indeed Fright. Or that’s what I’m popularly known as. Well, I am tall dark and handsome…well not really handsome in the true sense of the word…but I suppose I might look rather nice from certain angles with the right lighting.

I only earned my nickname Fright after I managed to pour boiling oil over the side of my face, over my cheeks and the side of my neck when I was 22. That’s when I began to appear scary to random people who don’t know that I am one of the most soft-spoken men you’d ever come across.

Strange as it sounds, I have never minded people calling me Fright. In fact, I am now a proud junior artist who is always chosen first to play the villain in most plays across the state. Even though I currently live in the same building as many other actors from all over the country and have painstakingly moved up the ranks from a mere extra to junior artist, it only takes one look at my face for people to maintain a safe distance from me. Except for the dwarfettes.

Yeah, you heard that right too. Seven dwarfettes in all, living on the floor above my dingy one-room flat in Ullas Vihar apartment in Shivajinagar. And they were here only because Mohini, the woman who held my marvelous attention is a hardcore feminist in real life. A man-hater that she is, she absolutely refused to work with men, not even dwarfs…this, even though she shared zero space with them on the stage.

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About the writer: Chethana Ramesh is a freelance soft skills trainer. She holds a Master’s degree in Information Studies, from the Nanyang Technological University of Singapore. She has worked with various corporates across myriad fields and has also been involved with a reputed NGO for the differently-abled, in Bangalore.

An avid reader, she owns a humongous collection of books. She is passionate about poetry and fitness. Her other interests include photography, social media, blogging, music and travel. She lives in Bangalore with her family.

Email: chethana.ramesh1@gmail.com

Website/Blog: http://chethanaramesh.blogspot.in/


Bossy Flossy Monologues


(Genre: Humor)

Guys, pull the blinders. Switch on the projector. Close the door… and yup, give me that remote. Thanks.

Everyone, please settle down. Thank you!

Shreya, please take this chair. I am fine… I am fine. I will stand.

A boss needs to do a little bit of standing once in a while.


Plus, my back hurts carrying the load of this team all day, so –

Haha. Just kidding.

Aw, and its hot today. Isn’t it?


It’s shooting forty five degrees in the north. Delhi and other parts, you know? People are dying because of this heat. Did anyone see the news? Horrible… horrible. I tell you.

You know, five years ago, even Bangalore wasn’t this Bangalore. Yes, it used to get reasonably hot during the summer, but not this hot.

By the way, how many of you were in Bangalore 5 years ago? Raise your hands.

Come on!

One, two, three, four, five… and six.

Six of you.

Oh great, Sam, you just remembered you were here too?

You need to be a little faster with your responses my friend. Do meditation, pay attention, and I don’t know… stop smoking pot. Haha.

I don’t mean it, Sam. Don’t think I mean it at all. Because I don’t. God, look at your face.

But seriously, every joke has some truth to it.

Anyway, so seven. Seven of you were here five years ago as well. Great! So you guys would know what I am talking about.


I am talking about global warming, guys. It’s real. Trump and conspiracy theorists need to witness this mayhem.

By the way, Sam, love your shirt. Where did you get it from? Wait, no don’t answer that… let me guess. UCB? Yeah? No? Yeah? UCB?

How do I know that?

Because I was in the store the other day and I wanted to buy this exact same shirt. Actually, my lovely wife, Nina, some of you must have met her at the kickoff party last year, pointed it out to me. She said, she likes Azure. That’s her favorite colour apparently.

You guys know what color Azure is?

Trust me, even I had no idea. I pretended like I knew what Azure is. But I did not know it. First, I thought she was talking about the cloud platform? By Microsoft? But no, she was talking about this shirt’s color. Ha. Funny. Isn’t it?

God, I tell you, she can tell the exact color the shirts are. The color of the curtains, pajamas, baby clothes… I mean who says things like, “This is aquamarine”?

I wouldn’t. Would you? Samrat? Would you look at a pillow cover and say its aquamarine in color? No. Exactly!

God, I had such a huge fight with her, the other day. I said it’s blue. She said it’s Aquamarine. I did not know what to say to that, so after a point, she followed that by saying, actually, its a bluish tint of cerulean tone more towards the cyan colour. That’s what that is, she said.

Exactly, guys! Can you believe it? Who talks like that?

Apparently, my wife does. Pfft.

God, why did I marry such a geek, I often wonder. But you know, she is great. If you met her, you’d like her. Some of you did already, but I am saying this for those who did not.

Anyway, so the shirt, yeah so this shirt was there, hanging on those… you know… pale looking mannequins with perfect abs. And it called out my name. Spooky, I know. It just said, Nagrajan, come here and try me out. Shirts can talk. I swear. And trust me, Sam, I wanted to. I wanted to buy this shirt. But guess what? I saw a better shirt in the same store, three mannequins away. Thus, I bought a better one. And I am wearing it right now. Ha Ha Ha. It has a better print, highly priced and all that. You see, a boss should have a better shirt than his employees.

Just kidding. Ha Ha. Just kidding.

You all look great.

You all look great.

Anyway, so coming to the point, the reason why I called this meeting today is because something bad is going to happen. I mean it’s not that bad. But it is kind of bad. I did not want it. Trust me, I did not.

Trust me, you must. Did you get it? That’s Yoda. Haha.

Last time I did that impression and I asked the team if they knew who it was, someone said to me, Nagrajan, Yoda one who should know. Haha. So funny. That little Rao fellow. He was hilarious. Doesn’t work here anymore. I fired him. God, how I wish he did. He was such a breeze.

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About Write Club Bangalore: It’s a weekly meetup group of writers, that’s been consistently running for past 7 years.

Every week we assemble at 2 in the afternoon and write on a prompt given to us by the host. Then we read (out loud) whatever we have managed to write, one by one, and the host, or the other members of the club, tell us how good or bad the pieces are.

Post the writing session, we have coffee at a close by restaurant and we often debate (and/or joke) about everything under the sun. The waiters at the restaurant probably hate us, because we are usually very loud. But then it’s a lot of fun. I mean, I could go on and on about the group, but I can’t put it in words. Why don’t you check out the official website instead?


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