Thirteen

We were attending a microbiology practical class and a rather mean lecturer was describing certain parasitology slides. There was this particular slide, which was supposed to harbour eggs of a certain disgusting nematode. I was told to identify the eggs in the slide. I looked desperately but did not find any product of conception in the slide. All I could see was magnified faecal matter.

The lecturer was furious. She was confident that the slide contained more than a million eggs. She shoved us to one side with her pointed elbow; muttering something, she proceeded towards the microscope. “You people know nothing. I’ll only have to adjust.”

Haughtily, she adjusted the light and fine power. She searched. And searched. She was so lost in the slide that she didn’t realise it had been more than 20 minutes. We stood behind her, waiting eagerly for the Eureka moment. But, nothing happened. I’ve heard an average Indian sex lasts for about 20 minutes. And here we were standing looking for some eggs smeared with shit which probably were, nonexistent.

Frustrated, we decided to teach her a lesson. One of my batch mates took a step ahead so as to stand right behind her. Meanwhile, rest of us huddled in another corner, waited with bated breath, like what cows do in a storm. All of a sudden, he uttered a loud ‘boo’!

The lecturer was shell-shocked. We couldn’t control our laughter. We were thrown out of the lab – but at least we were no longer hunting for some promiscuous worm’s progeny.

(If you haven’t noticed, today is a Friday and this is the thirteenth strip. What luck.)