Week 7 Story: Sadaheva Asks Yudhistira the Hardest Trivial Question

"Can I ask you something, Yudhistira?"

"Of course, Sadaheva. You are my youngest brother, and therefore you need my guidance."

"Well, that's not necessarily true."

"Yes it is."

"Why?"

"I said so."

"But who put you in charge?"

"Whoever wrote the Mahabharata."

"Fine. Anyways, can I ask you a question and get a serious answer?"

"Of course, little brother. Why would I not be serious?"

"Because you'd give me a you're-young-and-do-not-know-the-ways-of-the-world answer."

"That is a serious answer. I am older than you and thus wiser."

"How much older than me are you, anyway?"

"I have no idea. I'm not sure anyone does."

"Wise, older brother. Absolutely sage."

"Are you going to ask me the question?"

"Yeah, fine. What was going through you mind when you saw all of us dead at that lake where the yaksha was?"

"What was I thinking?"

"Yeah."

"Well, first I thought, Oh shit, all of my brothers are dead. That is a really bad thing. I am still very thirsty."

"That's it?"

"Such was my train of thought."

"Well, what did you think after that?"

"It went something like this, Sadaheva: My throat is very dry. Please, mean pond god, let me have some water. And some brothers back. Just one? I choose Sadaheva, because he is not soo old as the others and can still be molded not to be a fool. I need to answer questions for that? Okay. Wait, that's a lot of questions. Dammit. Crap. The Declaration of Independence. Centripetal force. Danny DeVito. Friends.  Kevin Durant should never have left Oklahoma City. Roberto Clemente. 42. Y'all. Aagahgahgahghaghaghaga."

"Aagahgahgahghaghaghaga?"

"My thoughts exactly."

"And then?"

"Flakjfadsjfnasdkcbpiabcpchabia"

"Right."

At this point, the narrator stepped in to prevent this ridiculous conversation from pursuing its illogical ends any further. "This is supposed to be a retelling of a scene from the Mahabharata," the narrator said. "You two sound like a bad farce grew legs and started talking to itself."

"Well, you wrote it," said Yudhistira. "You cannot fault us for our less-than-philosophical discussion of the events with the yaksha."

"True," the narrator said. "Where did the oddly modern trivia come from? How was the yaksha a master of contemporary American pop culture references?" 

"I do not know," replied Yudhistira. "All I remember was how parched I was, how I yearned for a drop of water on my tongue."

"And your brothers were dead," said Sadaheva.

"Of course. And my brothers. Who were dead."

Here the narrator ended the story, for he felt as though its writing had reached the apex of meaninglessness (not to mention that it was a poor retelling indeed). The narrator felt obligated to tell the reader that Yudhistira and Sadaheva eventually worked out their differences and hugged it out as only bros can. And the narrator was left alone.

They're just sleeping. Source.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was a (very very) very loose retelling of the Sphinx-like incident with Yudhistira and the yaksha after Yudhistira's four brothers ignored the yaksha's warning not to drink the water. I tried to make it fun. You can tell me if I succeeded. Also, I notice my stories getting more meta as I go, and I'm not sure if that's a way to compensate for bad writing or is just a logical progression of style. We'll see what happens in the next one, I guess.