“A finishing school for men?, “I asked the owner of the school, “I have never heard of anything so strange.”
“And why not?” asked the owner, as he directed a painter to give finishing touches to the board outside, “if our women can win beauty contests at the world level, I don’t see why our men should be left behind as far as finishing techniques are concerned.”
“I don’t know whether it will succeed though,” I said a little doubtfully.
“I don’t invest my money till I am sure,” said the owner of the finishing school confidently, “and let me tell you, I am already full, as far as the membership is concerned and have a long waiting list.”
“I suppose you will teach men about grooming and hygiene, personality development, poise and confidence?” I asked.
“What?” shouted the owner of the school, “do you want me to make sissies of men?”
“So what will the course cover?” I asked.
The owner looked outside at a girl standing at the bus stop and gave a whistle. As the girl looked away annoyed, he gave another one, with a different sound effect, then another and another, all sounding totally different from each other.
“What are you doing?” I asked, embarrassed.
“Giving you a practical demonstration about our course,” said the owner. “Now watch what happens.”
The owner gave another ear splitting whistle, and took a step towards the girl, whistling a song from a well known film, the girl saw him coming, turned around, gave him a slap and walked away.
“Looks like your lesson didn’t work” I said.
“On the contrary it will,” said the man proudly, “watch the hero in the blockbuster playing at Cinefield and you will see the girl in the hero’s arms by the end of the movie. Our courses are based on workable episodes and situations seen every day on the big screen.”
“What else,” I asked hesitantly, “do you teach?”
The owner, cleared his throat, gave a sound like a lion roaring and spat whatever was in his mouth a few feet away. “Ten feet,” he said, “is the distance a man is trained to spit by the time he finishes the course, and how did you like the accompanying sound, macho wasn’t it?”
A nervous looking teen age boy walked up to the owner and asked politely for an entrance form.
“You idiot?” shouted the owner, giving the boy a punch in the stomach, “is that the way a man should speak?”
“Why did you do that?” I asked.
“Another practical demonstration,” said the owner of the finishing school. “In this school, we teach them how to become bullies.”
“You know,” I said thoughtfully, “don’t you feel that what you are teaching is already known to most of our men?”
“Yes,” said the owner thoughtfully, “most men know these secrets, but it is only after Trump they’ve realised they can actually succeed in life with these finishing techniques.!”
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