It was a beautiful december day, and Mahir was sitting at his favorite curry bar waiting for his orange tuna and curry sandwitch when a dirty slum child ran up to his table.
"Mr. Mahir! Mr. Mahir! You are to be at the show! Jag has comited suiside and Qutub refuses to work without another! Bollywood needs you!"
"Lead to way Thin-Short, we shall go save Bollywood!"
*
As they arrived at the set both Mahir and Thin-Short were over come with snarly welcomes.
"Hay you! Ya thats right I'am talkin' to you ugly; move it!"
"Out of the way!"
"Give me back my purse you hoolagan!"
Mahir looked down at Thin-Short as he put away a blue beaded purse,
"Gotta eat Mr."
Thats when a four foot high man wearing a sky blue shirt and a canary yellow vest can flying over their heads, only to land seconds later in a vibrantly coloured heep. Untangling himself, the small man pulled out a matching outfit for Mahir.
"Qutub, there seems to be a red stain on this shirt....." The small man named Qutub rolled his eyes,
"Didn't the boy tell you? Jag comited suiside!"
Mahir frowned as he noticed the stains were on the back of the shirt and they looked kinda like Jag had been bashed on the head. But he shrugged and slipped the shirt on anyways, then pulled on the yellow vest.
"Good, now come over this way and get on the bike, we're doing a live show in three minutes,"
Qutub led Mahir over to a old dirt bike and handed him the key. Mahir tok the key and went to put it into the ingishion but paused,
"I want you to know that I would do anything for Bollywood, but I seem to be rather short on what it is that Iam to be doing. Also I missed lunch."
Just the Thin-short came running up to him holding a small raped bundle. Opening it Mahir relised what it was and wooped for joy,
"My sandwitch!"
"Ya, ya, ya. Eat your darn sandwitch and shut your mouth, were going around the "Well to Hell"
The End
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