Electric Piracy

I murmured:

"Hey Gonca, have you got any friends in any of these buildings?"

"Wait, I'll be boiling an awful nice plant for you, since you are not fasting..."

As Gonca hastened to the kitchen, I saw a corner of a title deed among the papers on the table. I can identify any legal document from any inch of it, take its digital picture if I am interested, can replace it without changing the other objects' positions, and act very quickly.

I was back in my car as Gonca was suspending a basket from her window to the grocer. I thanked her via honking several times for the envelope she gave to me. When the grocer started to load Gonca's basket with loaves of bread, kilograms of onion and boxes of depilatory, he noticed my car. I skidded and escaped, as a precaution to the grocer's possible invitation to a backgammon party. The sound and the smoke of my tires burning on the asphalt accompanied the muezzin's call for breaking fast. The cannon fired at last: an audible signal to make sure that one can safely eat. Those positioned on their window pillows all day long, hurried inside simultaneously, to break fast. Everybody disappeared. I said "Amen," and bit a piece of bread.

Boiled trumpet creeper is a must drink for any driver in this Istanbul traffic: I felt as if my airbag embraced me while pumping the accelerator and the brake alternately, and zigzagging down the evacuated streets. No, I could not fast that day; a cursed wet dream has already broken my fast in the morning.

When I opened the picture on my PC at home, I saw the title deed of a luxurious villa, registered under the name of Abdullah Uzun, whom everybody knows as transvestite Gonca. The cash inside the envelope Gonca gave to me was sufficient only to cover up the cost of a dinner in that villa's quarter. Suddenly an angel appeared, whispered the word "electricity" to my ears, and disappeared.

I studied all my files for hours only to find out even the total revenue generated by the whole district, was far below the amount needed for the acquisition of such a villa. The same angel was there again and was yelling this time:

"Corporate electricity meters, idiot. Broaden your horizon, break your chains!"

Of course! Taksim, the city centre, was just a cable long away! No more exploitation of the electricity labourer!

The angel left behind a glowing aura; I remained hypnotised until the Ramadan drummer arrived to wake us up at 3 a.m., so that we should eat enough before the sunrise, and be able to stand the starvation that awaits us all day long.

The next day at the office, having thoroughly examined the relevant files, I noticed a significant decrease in the sums of the power bills of five star hotels in the Taksim area, in time. A professional power piracy network seemed to be prevalent. I should be visiting Gonca soon.

The very same day, my deceased manager announced the so-called good news that, I would no longer be wasted around to read electricity meters but would stay in the office, because of my promotion.

"Sir, staying in the office is not for me, I should be moving," I begged.

I tried to persuade him for hours but he was determined. "I am already very tense, don't further raise my temper as I am fasting," he said and added it was up to him to decide where to appoint his employees.

It is up to Allah to decide when to end we mortals' lives; whatever happens is what Allah wants.