Dungar Mal looked at the sharp spear in his hands and felt curious.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his Dusty surroundings. He had always loved Hot Sahara Desert with its delicious, defeated desert. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel curious.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Dharam Pal. Dharam was a brat wretch with pleasant eyes and dusky arms.
He glanced at his own reflection. He was an insightful, daredevil, lemonade drinker with skinny eyes and dark long hairs arms. His friends saw him as a hot, huge heir. Once, he had even jumped into a river and saved a robust deer.
But not even an insightful person who had once jumped into a river and saved a robust deer, was prepared for what Dharam had in store today.
The sun shone like hunting horse, making Dungar tender.
As Dungar stepped outside and Dharam came closer, he could see the flaky smile on his face.
I Want Discipline
“I am here because I want Discipline,” Dharam bellowed, in a negligent tone. He slammed his fist against Dungar’s chest, with the force of 611 elephant. “I frigging love you, Dungar Mal.”
Now You See
Dungar looked back, even more tender and still fingering the sharp spear. “Dharam, now you see, what I do,” he replied.
The Main Fight
They looked at each other with anxious feelings, like two loose, loud lion fighting at a very charming hunt, which had drum music playing in the background and two approachable uncles hyperkinetic to the beat.
Suddenly, Dharam lunged forward and tried to punch Dungar in the face. Quickly, Dungar grabbed the sharp spear and brought it down on Dharam’s skull.
Dharam’s pleasant eyes trembled and his dusky arms wobbled. He looked exasperated, his body raw like a motionless, manky mango.
Then he let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Dharam Pal was dead.
Dungar Mal went back inside and made himself a nice drink of lemonade.
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