Why in whoever’s name?

I am not going to defend myself on the allegations that most of my posts are based on the events of myself getting the better of an alcoholic beverage. I wouldn’t classify myself as a drug because I am abused by these genius chemical portions. I had been alcohol free for close to six months after the Sheeva incident and things were looking really good for me. I was able to save up some money and get myself enough alcohol just in case an apocalypse occurred and I was left behind. This is one Friday I would like to forget but its memory keeps on flashing before me every time I switch on the television or go to the city centre or school.

Friday the 13th it was and everything was smooth other than than the hunger pangs that were constantly clawing my intestines out. So Eric, my heavily built friend  shows up and after careful deliberation we decide to get a loaf of bread and milk. That was the first mistake I made. At the moment it seemed as the best option to nullify the curse from my guts. As usual, Eric was the one who came up with the bright idea to get ourselves a small drink just to get the day rolling. We headed down to Dong Fang and after careful negotiations settled for the king, “Napoleon”. This we drowned without an issue and headed back to school with beaming faces knowing the night was going to be epic and epic it was. After about half an hour, another sinner in the name of Junior makes his way in and on using his psychic abilities suggests we get another drink. That was mistake number two, listening to this character. We head out and on the way the devil incarnate appears. The realBIGmeat is his name. I can solemnly swear this guy hides his tail and horns during the day but his eyes are still red though. This was a big enough quorum and we head over to the liquor store at  Kenol Hurlingam and get a bottle of Kibao. Knowing my history with this drink I proceeded with caution and took like three chokes. By this time the naps was already checking in. “Where is it written dilute to taste? Where?” Yes. That was Byrone asking why we need to get soda for the kibao. By this time Oriwo (formerly a gangsta) had absconded his duty to love and chose the bottle. We obtained the second bottle and this is where, the devil opened up his home. We finished it in less than five and started to put the actions that follow into use. The first one was to hijack the night guards chair and refuse to move from it. I did the sitting, the devil did the refusing. This was probably the first and last time I approached a Sud mami. All I can remember is some Arabic mambo jambo and the next thing I was being held back. I shall avoid the next four hours because I have no recollection whatsoever of what transpired but the period after was more shocking. I woke up and just walked out of the room in my socks but it was colder than usual. I know we have no staircase in the house so when I went down the steps I started questioning myself. What woke me up was the mourning because clearly that was not moaning from one of the rooms to my right. Before I could recover from that shock, the sight of a watchman made it even worse. And just before I could question him, I see a lady walking out of a bathroom with nothing but her fro to cover her. I passed out for a second or two and when I came to, I started questioning the watchman. He narrated how a group of rowdy looking men had brought me there and promised to come pick me up in the morning. All this while I hadn’t realized that my shoes were missing, my spectacles were lost and I had large cut beside my eye. This is when it all got real. As I’m negotiating with this watchman to give me my phone and shoes that I had voluntarily abandoned in Hurlingam.

The sun was almost coming up and I could not walk out of a brothel at that time of the day with all the respect I am yet to command in Nairobi. So I coaxed the watchie into giving me fifty bob and walked around the rooms looking for someone who did not need their shoes. I luckily found one outside a room where some guy was using unorthodox means to pleasure this mama. I didn’t want to interrupt them just for gratitude, so I tiptoed away with the ladies rubber shoes. I rushed out of the place, went and got a jav home and tried filling in the missing puzzle to the night. I removed the rubber shoes as soon as I got to the gate and walked in innocently before blacking out. The best part about all this is that I went to Hurlingam the next day and found my loyal and durable Nokia phone still ringing on the road. I have not had such an experience since then but I always ask myself, “Why in whoever’s name did I have to do all that?

The One

Dear The One,

Thursday evening. It’s a bit chilly and I’m in the house going about my specialty;lazing about. It’s been two and a half months and I haven’t seen her. My heart wants to beat for her but it’s my mind that craves for her. Her scent is what I can call mature and I’m not referring to the ‘sweet’ scent of sweat. Her body was carved out of flesh only. Unlike dames i spare some glances at,she wasn’t created by angels on internship,no: the Almighty did it Himself and put time into it. My phone rings and who is it? My favourite. Yes,that’s what she is;my favourite. As if fate was listening in on my thoughts,I get music to my ears. “Hey, fav. I’m in town can you come see me?” Can I? She was asking the wrong question. I’d go see her even if she was in hell or the kuklaxklan had her in their headquarters. In no time I’m racing down the road to go and see my favourite.

Time slowly fades as I stare into her eyes and upper chest(she has great knockers). I have a lot to think about but her life is equally important and interesting. With every statement that comes out of my mouth charm smuggles itself in it. The Charmer. That’s my alias when i’m with her. She’s the type of girl you can spend a night describing and still not come close to how great she is. I’m a serial paraphraser but there would be no words that can paraphrase my feelings for her. She is the first girl I honestly fell in love with. I remember her falling down in primary school,her having a wrapskirt mishap. The list is endless. She’s the one girl I can frankly admit would have had me in her bag. We reminisce the good times and the not so good ones. She’s headed back home and it’ll be another three months before I can see her again. As we wait for her bus,I am glad to just have her in my arms. Made me feel like I was in a James Bond movie(You do know 007 is a smooth operator?).

This is a feeling I can’t explain but what I know is that it’s a good feeling. If I was in favour with God like Gideon was i’d request the time to stand still. Every moment I spent with her is a moment i’d like to relive. There is not a day that goes by without her popping up in my thoughts. If she was to get a cold it wouldn’t be a common cold and I presume nothing is common about about her senses either. All she has is heightened to another level. She’s the kind of girl you’d introduce to your boys as the hot girl and to your family as the wife to be. Yeah,I know I sound messed up,but all cartoon and comic lovers know that the protagonist always has a weakness. And my kryptonite is her. She’s my mystery girl. The girl i’d run out of a drinking spree to see how her broken nail is healing,but with the beers in tow of course. She has what we call the magnetic self. If you are blind and miss out on the visual attraction then don’t despair my brother in darkness. Her personality will grab you by the collar and you can feel it’s breath on your face. I’m not exaggerating. I’m sure the sun first shines on her before remembering its duty to the rest of the world. Ok,I guess that’s a lie. The sun shines only on us because she doesn’t like the spotlight. What makes her so special? She brightens up my world. Whenever i’m around her I forget all that’s going on around me.

Enough about her,and more of me. That comes in a later episode or possibly season. I am not in the literal zone yet but i’m in my comfort zone when she’s on my mind. Her name I will keep a secret not because i’m ashamed or afraid but rather protective. If I say it i’m certain the CIA,KGB or Mossad may try and whisk her from under my nose. If not,the CID may pull a GSU on me and beat me up but i have sworn not to disclose her identity. That is until they actually start to beat me up of course. She’s my future cardio. Intelligence is my thing. I have a thing for girls with brains not bimbos. I never open up to a girl unless I have ulterior motives. With her I had none. I opened up because five years of bottling up feelings for one person can be too much for a normal person to carry. But not me. I’m Edward Ochieng Oyugi alias Ted Pot. I didn’t open up until five years later. That’ a hero right there. I’m only giving you a preview of season two;The Charmer. As much as I would want to make her the heiress to thee Oyugi seed,certain factors are not at ceteris paribus. My real reason for being single? I believe that one day fate will deliver her to my door if not my hands. We all have someone we want so badly. It’s a human need to be loved for without the love of another human being you have no reason to fight for life. I wake up each day knowing she will one day get over the pain of losing someone’s trust and won’t be afraid to explore her emotions. I know that I will get the opportunity take her to another world. Disney world would be a great destination but that is a topic for another day.

We are like two very contrasting species that complement each other. She’s like a persian cat;warm,homely and furry. On the other hand i’m like a greyhound;lean(i mean really lean),live on the edge and have little care for what is around me. But just like a greyhound i’m reliable. I’ll try never to disappoint when she’s counting on me. Our differences are what pull us together. I’d give my life for hers in a mouth-mouth resuscitation situation. She calls me for long periods and i’d rather be silent but have her on the other end of the line. Her name in it’s native form means queen and mine royal guard. Now I see the source of the lean body and my urgency towards her welfare. I’d say it’s fate. Hope is used by people who have no faith in whatever they claim to believe in. This sounds like one of those fairy tales or soap operas but trust me there’s a gangstar side to it but I have to own a gun first and mum says no guns till i’m thirty. I know one day she will read this but if you happen to read it prior and have those African American names like Shaniqua or no English names like Wavinya Ndeti be certain it’s not you. When she reads this i’ll have given my first literal piece to her. I’m surprised at how a girl can make the Prince and heir to the crown of Lazyingdom write this in less than a day.(sorry have to take a bathroom break;i’m back now). Yes.she made me write all these in less than four hours. My word! I couldn’t even complete an essay in high school. That is my letter to you.

Yours lovingly,

Me

Here I am Pearly Gates

It’s been a while since I last sat down and put anything down that wasn’t going to earn me a grade or get me laid. So on this particular day Rodrigo and I had set our sights on attending a Homeboyz gig at the Carnivore grounds and nothing was going to stop us from turning it up that night and stunting like Alpha Blondie shopping at Junction while shottas are waiting for him at KICC. So we link up in the CBD since none of us had access to a private ride. But what’s the difference; I have a chauffeur, an entourage and a butler. So two other pals join us and we choose to get the poison of our choice. We walk straight into the alcoholic aisle; Mututho was still hustling back then. So we pick our vodka and head out of the supermarket knowing this was going to be the night when it all goes down. Knowing the night was going to be rough we chose to have some bitings before our ride got there. As soon as we heard a black rhyno tune playing in the background we knew it was out time to leave the city and get our night on course.

As soon as we get into the jav, the sight of caramel thighs, baby bearing hips and no bras was enough motivation to know this night was set aside by one of our ancestors, Solomon most likely. So we pop open our bottie and drown that poor man’s liquor so fast I should have got head from one of those mamis just for that. We get to Uchumi and since everybody is going in the same direction, the chauffeur decides to be a wuss and take us near the gate. As if the Lord was listening to my silent prayers, we meet a lone ranger who was out to conquer the night but was beaten to it by the liquor. After pouring libation we take the untouched mzinga from him and go on to show him how it’s done. And if I wasn’t so distracted by miss caramel thighs I would have realized I was the only one drinking the God-forsaken drink.

So far so good, the night was proving to be a great one. We walk in and who is the first person we bump into? Marie Curie (her story I will narrate later). All you need to know for now that she gives great lip service. She was the kind of chic that was always head over heels when intoxicated, that’s why we all loved her low shoes. So we all plot on who’s getting her for the night. One of us, we’ll call him Jakech, wasn’t planning on finishing up this deal in the morning. So as I stagger around, I bump into Marie again and when drunk, whenever I open my mouth it’s with the intention to lay. And that was all going well till the next thing I remember was handing Jakech a pack of rubber. So apparently for four hours I was out cold but that’s their side of the story. My side of the story is very different and that’s what we’ll go by.

In the process of putting Marie in the zone, I saw caramel thighs and I could have sworn there was a trumpet that was sounded and a beam of light shone on her bum and she signaled me to follow. That was when Jakech showed up and in the process asked me for the pack of rubber. So I head out with caramel thighs, hand over my personal belongings to Rodrigo and know I come from the 12th tribe of Israel. After a few shots of whatever it is that she gave me (my taste buds were numb) we decide as good people we should give some sort of respect to France and lock lips, tongues and other body apparels. Now this is where things got tricky. She said she wanted to have a seat and being the deviate I am, I obliged. We went to the sheesha gazebo and that is where everything changed. I turned to pick a poof and the next thing I saw when turning back was a bright tunnel, which unfortunately didn’t have a light at the end of it. So the first thing that came to mind was, the hell! I made to heaven and there’s no traditional song and dance, just Supercat playing in the background. I search, for someone to ask for my crown but I couldn’t get my eyes off the tunnel.Yeah, it was the inner thigh of an Indian chic. So I gather my courage and ask, “Where is Sheeva, I need to pay my reverence for not being turned into a sea horse?” They all laughed and handed me the sheesha to calm my nerves. All this times I was thinking, did the world end while I was tapping caramel thighs? And did we climax or at least did I? As I am busy thinking about my past life, miss bright tunnel crosses over to my side and places those blessed thighs on me. Never in my life have I felt so incapacitated. The best I could do was ask, “Are you Sheeva?” It didn’t get me laid but at least it got those pink lips plastered on mine. And immediately after they left, and no, my ass was intact, I confirmed. I found my way around and got to where Rodrigo was and found him with some mami, Jakech looking all worn out and Marie still smacking her lips after a job well done. I never got the chance to meet Sheeva or Caramel thighs again, but at least I have seen the Pearly Gates.