Sketch S

I hate people who refer to me in the third person, while they're talking to me, like I wasn't sitting right there in front of them. Did you get this particular abnormality's finer points? No? You don't know what I'm talking about? Well, the conversation goes like this:

S, (to Aran): Does Aran like hindi movies then?
Aran wonders if S thinks Aran is about three years old.
Aran: Yes, I do.
S smiles a sickly sweet, totally brainless smile (you know the one, it's just pasted on)
S, (to Aran): Does Aran go to movie theatres?
Aran wonders whether S's mental age might be arrested at about three years of age. Decides, yes.
Aran: Er... yes.
S scans her mind to think of something equally inane to follow with.
S, (to Aran): So who is Aran's favourite actor?
Aran thinks: Oh my God! Perfect follow-up!
Aran opens mouth to answer... is interrupted by S.
S, (to Aran): Wait! Let me guess. Aran's favourite actor is Shahrukh!
Aran now is the proud owner of a sick smile of her own, because she knows she will have to endure the conversation.
Aran: No.
S, (to Aran): Aran must like Aamir Khan then!
Aran: No.
S, (to Aran): Hrithik? Abhishek Bachchan? Oh, wait! Aran must like John Abraham!
Aran is tempted to say the spot is tied between Tusshar Kapoor and Razzak Khan.
Aran: No, no, no.
S, (to Aran): Oh, then Aran herself should say.
Aran thinks, 'Oh my God! She said 'Aran herself'', with something approaching horror.
Aran: Salman Khan.
S: I knew it!
Aran repeats sick smile.
S, (to Aran): So who is Aran's favourite actress?
Aran wishes for divine intervention, like maybe a lightning bolt coming in through the balcony and striking S right in the sitting room.

I swear I didn't make this up. I have a defective piece like this floating in and out of my life and consciousness from time to time. I think the more I interact with her, the lower my IQ will test. There's surely some erosive effect at play here. Repeated conversations will definitely take chunks off my brain. Physically. I know. Entropy. It doesn't help that she has the sickly sweet, totally brainless smile on when no one is watching (but, I am! Ah-ha!!) It's scary when she's smiling into space. Like she can see dead people or something.

But really, she's the harmless kind of retarded I think. And somewhat useful too when you need a babysitter. I'm trying to think of other ways she can be useful... and can't come up with any, sorry. Let's just say it would really hurt me to be her, and leave it at that, because this is turning meany-bitchy, isn't it? And of course, I'm not meany-bitchy. I'm kindness-light. And all things bright. Brilliant shine, this face of mine. So true and fair, with midnight hair...

Uh, ok, I lost myself there. I blame S. Thank you. That will be all.