“Man, this story’s going now-fuckin’-where.”

“What the fuck do you mean? Are you even fuckin’ listenin’ to me, you stupid cunt?”

Adi reached out for a bottle of Kinley Club Soda, picked it up, and in one quick motion, threw it at Karan. The half-full bottle hit Karan smack on his chest. “Fuck,” he shouted. “What the fuck did you do that for, cunt?”

This time, Adi didn’t bother around with the plastic soda bottles. He picked up the half-empty, glass bottle of Blender’s Pride whisky.

“Whoa! Hey, what’s gotten into you, man?” Karan screamed, shielding his face with his hands. “What’re you doin’? What’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t you fuckin’ use that word again,” Adi said, bottle still in hand, “you know I hate it.”

“What word?”

“Cunt, you asshole, cunt…I fuckin’ hate that word; don’t you dare fuckin’ use it in front of me again…I swear to fuckin’ god, I’ll break your fuckin’ head…”

“Alright, alright, pipe down, man….Jeez, it’s just a goddamn word, what’s the big deal?”

“I hate it, it’s terribly offensive.”

“Alright, I swear to…” Karan looked around hastily, “…this fuckin’ whisky, I won’t use it ever again in my life. Okay? Relax, now.”

Adi leaned back in his heavily-cushioned chair, placed his head back and took a large swig from his glass. He downed the bitter-tasting whisky with a handful of peanuts, and walked over to the balcony of his bedroom.

After giving his friend a couple of minutes to calm down, Karan asked: “Hey, Adi, why did you get so angry, man? I’m sure my story wasn’t that bad.”

Adi turned around, looked at his pal, shook his head, and smirked. “That wasn’t even a fuckin’ story…I mean, like, was there even any point to it?”

“Not all stories have a point,” Karan replied. “Some stories are just…you know, stories. They don’t necessarily have a moral, or a…message, or something…they’re just simply…”

“That’s bullshit,” Adi cut him off. “Those kinda stories are useless…because the reader doesn’t take anything out of them.”

“The reader had a good time reading it…”

“How do you know? Maybe he didn’t like the story at all, he didn’t enjoy it one tiny bit…and then, hated it even more because it had no moral, or message, as you say it. What then, huh?”

“Look, man, I know more about stories and readers than you do, okay?” Karan said, clearly out of a valid point to argue with.

“Oh, really?” Adi asked. “And why is that? Because you’ve a stupid blog where you write some stupid stories? Some two-three people read your stories, and now, suddenly you’re an expert on literature?”

“I get 50 clicks on an average every day, okay,” Karan said, looking at Adi, almost in disbelief.

Adi chuckled. “And how many of those are yours? Huh?”

“Why’re you being this way, man? Over smart as always…here we are, having a good time, a bottle of whisky to finish between us…and you’ve to start being a cu…asshole.”

“I’m not being an asshole, okay…I’m just trying to make a point, that stories without any point are fuckin’ useless.”

“It’s just a story, Adi.” Karan was exasperated.

“Well, then, don’t tell it to me,” Adi said, finished the last of the whisky in his glass with one single gulp, and continued, “I read a fuckin’ pointless story on your blog earlier today, and now I’ve to sit and listen to you tell me another one? No way! I don’t have time to sit here and listen to some shit story of yours about two idiots who’re drinking and chatting…don’t have time for that shit.”

Karan had had enough. “Fine,” he said, getting up, “I’ll just leave then. I don’t have time for your bullshit either.”

“Fine, leave…and here, take your fuckin’ whisky with you.”

Karan picked up the bottle of whisky, and walked to the door. He opened the door, looked back at his friend, and said, “You know what, Adi? You are a fuckin’ cunt, a big fuckin’ cunt.”

He saw the anger flare up in Adi’s eyes, but gave him no chance to speak. Karan slammed the door shut and left.