Battle of the Blues

         It was not funny at all. I was there, sitting in that wretched coffee shop, trying to drown myself in the nitty-gritties of microeconomics, with a lukewarm capuccino that tasted like it was made with the same mud, that Vasco Da Gama shook out of his boots when he landed in Kerala. I was trying to concentrate and was completely, successfully unsuccessful. I was in utter despair and turned to look out through the glass, seconds before I toppled out the chair and poured the muddy beverage all over my precious gold-wrought knickers.
         There was a huge crowd staring right at me, through the glass. I looked and felt a fool. It was not a new feeling anyway, as my girlfriend would comment with immense sarcasm. But still, it was a bit too sudden. I was trying to look dignified and delicately picked myself up, trying not to lose my sex appeal in the process. They were still staring at me. I was puzzled.
         I have never been stared at for so long by anybody; let alone a bunch of awestruck, pretty specimens of the fairer sex. The last time anybody stared at me was when I was hopping around in apparent pain, in the middle of the road, having caught myself in the zipper. The phenomenon was and is not regular. I rationalized. After pretty, heavy-duty calculations that would have required the processing capacity of at least six supercomputers, I made the obvious conclusion. It was not me that they were staring at.
         And after making a thorough and extensive study of the surroundings that included two old men who were trying to dump their wives and elope, I decided that neither was it because of,
     1) the hot female in a bathing suit, with shapely thighs sitting behind me; nor
     2) the hot female in a bathing suit sitting behind me; nor
     3) the hot female in a suit sitting behind me; nor
     4) the hot female sitting behind me; nor
     5) the female sitting behind me, even.
         I was still looking around, making assumptions and discarding them like Bluebeard's wives, when I heard the crowd roar a single word in unison and a brick loosened from the ceiling.
     "Four..!!!"
     The fog cleared. Clarity rose. Cognition proceeded. Enlightenment dawned. Birds flew. Crows pooped. Mosquitoes bit. The brick fell. Trains ran. Goats bleated. DFock yawned. Etc.
         I slowly swivelled in my chair to see a 40 inch monitor, mounted high on the wall and watched a white ball being tossed around a green field. I could not help myself cheering though I would have rather preferred women wrestling. And surprisingly, we won.