Protection

Timberlands

Warning: This chapter may seem offensive to some people. Please know that this is all jokes and we all sin. Boys like Hassan and Zayan do exist, I can say from experience. Haram police get out of here, this is not for you. What are you doing on a written pornapp anyway? Go and read some Quran or pray or something.

ZAYAN'S POV

It was finally Friday, our favorite day of the week. Hassan and I were planning to party in a new city this week until the brown version of Mike Tyson called us aka Hassan's dad. Great just fucking great.

The dreaded call continued to ring making Hassan's phone move like a drowning fish on the table. The call ended making both of us sigh in relief before my phone started to dance on the table instead of his.

Let it not be him, please. I turned my phone screen that was facing the table towards my face and as aspected "Uncle Mike Tyson" called me.

"Don't take that up"

"I don't want a shoe on my face. You know how the last dinner went with your mum and dad," I said, but I knew Hassan was not scared of them the way I was. I wasn't scared I just didn't like to have a shoe thrown at me at this big age, but Hassan has no self-respect whatsoever. What difference does it make to him?

"They didn't even hit you that much, they only hit you with that plastic chappal, I got my mum's timberlands thrown at my back" that's true though and they were quite heavy.

I couldn't help but let out a laugh recalling the memory but the laugh quickly died as I saw the phone still ringing and dancing on my table.

I picked it up not caring about Hassan's angry, scared, and defeated face.

"Assalamu alaikum ankal"

"Walaikumussalam, why isn't Hassan taking up my phone!"

"I don't know ask him," I said putting the call on speaker showing the phone on his side of the table. He silently begged me with both of his hands clasped together not to make him talk, but I wasn't known as a nice person anyway.

"Assalamu alaikum Abbo" He said and I could hear the pain in his voice.

"Walaikumussalam why aren't you taking up your call," he said in Punjabi, and I didn't know if I should be scared or laugh.

"I was busy"

"Doing what?"

"I am at the office dad I am working" yeah I wish he was working. Zahra just skipped her lunch again to do his work.

"Come to the mosque tonight, both of you sharp at 5 clocks"

"Why?"

"Because it's Milad today, and we need your help besides you Haramis need it anyway"

"What is that supposed to mean we had plans" Hassan answered.

"What plans?" Uncle asked.

He had that mischievous smile on his face I knew too well, he is gonna say something either inappropriate or funny most of the time it's both"

"Never mind we will come, uncle doesn't worry take care of yourself, bye," I said ending the call.

"Why did you end the call"

"Because you were going to say something stupid I could see it on your face"

"I was going to tell him that I gotta practice making your grandchildren"

I was shocked but at the same time not. This man has no filter whatsoever. Not even in front of his parents. He deserved all the timberlands on his face.