I make it rain
Life is a war, when it comes at you, it doesn't only rain, but it pours.
LIFE:
So the other day, I decided that it was about time I went to visit some friends out of state for a weekend. I get my shit together, get my ka suitcase, pack up a few things, not forgetting my spongebob underwear...it's my lucky underwear...I always get laid when I wear that...basically coz it's one of those things that will pretty much start an interesting conversation, while at the same time safely allows you to show a girl your underwear without being sued for sexual harassment. I set off to go there...short trip...something like an hour and as soon as I get there, and these boys are ready to go to the club...so I get ready and we head out.
The club, as would be expected, was full of nice looking mama's, asian, white, black, kenyan too, since we're everywhere like roaches (I swear you could go to the North pole, knock on some random igloo and a Kenyan will pop out with some frozen ugali in his hand).
As fate would have it, I met up with a kenyan one, decided to hook up with her behind since for one, she had an ample one, two, she was easy prey (jamaas were avoiding her coz of how she was dancing, which was basically a concoction of being struck by lightening while being bitten by ants, as you were running away from a rabid dog while imitating a chicken flapping its wings...by the way, I'm being lenient. Or maybe it was in the way she drank her rum and coke...which I swear is exactly how a kuku drinks water...I dunno. Half the time when she danced, I couldn't tell whether she was facing forward or backwards), three she had an ample behind (did I already say that...well, I feel like it deserves second mention, if for nothing else, then at the very least, I think each butt cheek should get it's own mention) and last but not least, I was feeling a little bit patriotic since I had forgotten to celebrate Jamuhuri day last December, and this was going to be my way of paying homage to my people (Bw. John seemed to whisper as he slowly saluted in my nether regions).
THE WAR:
Well, the folly of my actions was soon to be revealed, and consequently punished in a plethora of avenues, because as soon as I decided to dance with this random looking Wangare, this bitc...ok...this goddamn punda of a woman went on to kick and step on my legs and feet so unrelentingly, I almost went to look for a rock so that I could at least welcome her into this little world of pain that she was creating for me...then she kept on apologizing, asking me whether she hurt me. WHAT??? Is she serious? Did you hurt me...NO...you idiot...you didn't hurt me. But you have successfully conviced me that you were raised by a bunch of donkeys which used to fight alot...that's what.
THE RAIN:
So, I decided to man up...I was able to convice myself (dunno about the level of success I achieved with the conviction though) that the tears coming from my eyes due to this girl suffering from severe jackassitis, were eye sweat, I manage to pull her away from the dance floor and get her to sit down. I notice though, that all of a sudden, the dancefloor is a little bit more silent, albeit the music. At one point, I had been wondering why the hell the beats of the music being played were so off...only to realize that this dummy was stomping the ground so hard with her "dancing", it sounded like a wildebeast stampede. Ok...ok...I'll stop it with her dancing...lakini, ai! So as we're sitting down, I start to talk to her, just so that I know what she's all about...and amazingly, she's got good vibe, talks sense and all, she's got a good head on her shoulders, she's got plans and all....she could have used numerous tic tacs and a prayer for her mouth....but I guess that's excusable, seeing as this has been a really long night. Her hair was kidogo jacked up, and she shrubbed only slightly (those R's and L's can be a killer), but I tell myself to be open minded and be an EOF (equal opportunity fucker). She doesn't look half bad, so I decide to chomoa a couple of dingy lines and see if she was going to come home with me. I soon realize that I could have offered this girl a partially populated moshakwe and she woulda still come home with me, so I get my coat and tell her that we can bounce.
...AND THEN, IT RAINED
So we get to this girls hao, and I don't know whether to laugh or to run away or to call the authorities on her behind. First of all, there was mold on her door...MOLD ON HER DOOR...AND in the winter!!! How the hell does mold get on the door? I understand it being on bread or something like that, unless her door is made out of bread...but what the hell??? Of course, I let her open the thing, coz you never know what creature from the recesses of the door might jump at you. We go up to her bedroom, and it looks like it was designed by grenade: clothes everywhere, food remnants...I mean, the only reason that this place didn't have roaches is coz even the roaches have some amount of self respect. Bw. John at the time was going through the motions, fighting with me on whether to stay or not...
Me:Can you see this damn room?
Bw. John:Can you produce milk...how the hell am I supposed to see the room you moron?
Me: I really don't wanna be here, some food in here's so old, I think cavemen left it behind
Bw. John: Do I look like I have legs so that I can take you away from this place? Question is, are you gonna put me in something or not?
Me: Is that all you ever think of?
Bw. John: No...I also think of nuclear physics!
Me: Sarcastic bastard!
Bw. John: Whatever
Me: So, paper or plastic?
Bw. John: Double bag
Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out where they sold full body condoms (coulda certainly come in handy at this juncture), but I decide to make do with that which had been made available to me, and I proceeded to play jackhammer with her sehemu ya aibu...I was drunk and horny, what do you want from me? Besides, she was pretty good at doing the do...so it really didn't matter...at the time. So, after a couple of hours, sobriety comes back to its rightful place in my kichwa, and I see a piece of bread on the floor...wait, if I'm looking at the floor, why can I feel the mattress on my back??? Is that the light bulb? Does this bitch have a piece of bread on the damned ceiling??? What the fuck??? Why the hell does she have bread on the damned ceiling??? Then I notice that my hands had already started calling my ride to come get me from this dump...hold on...I was kinda drunk when coming home...did we get into a garbage receptacle? Does she pay rent for living in a garbage can? In about 15 minutes, my ride comes and I slip out without saying a damn thing...she doesn't see my ass getting out. Good riddance!!!
A couple of days later, my sehemu ya aibu starts to become seriously unfriendly...so I see a doc and the mutha says I got goddamn crabs. I wasn't even surprised...so I'm like just give me whatever's going to kick the stupid muthas off me, and knock me a few times on the head so that I pata some amnesia and forget all that traumatizing shit that I went through at this woman's hao. He does and I apply the cream as instructed, and curse out the heavens on why there was no divine intervention when I was about to get into her crib....a hand, a fight, faint for the first time...something. Then I notice something very strange...these fuckers come rushing to where the dawa is concentrated! Great, now I've patad junkie crabs...they get high on dawa! At least it helps me figure out a way to get rid of them, just weka the dawa somewhere on a table or something and let them go party.
So basically, now, I'm in need someone who knows the law vizuri, coz I'm contemplating suing this doggone woman for pain and suffering...you're all my witnesses.
LIFE:
So the other day, I decided that it was about time I went to visit some friends out of state for a weekend. I get my shit together, get my ka suitcase, pack up a few things, not forgetting my spongebob underwear...it's my lucky underwear...I always get laid when I wear that...basically coz it's one of those things that will pretty much start an interesting conversation, while at the same time safely allows you to show a girl your underwear without being sued for sexual harassment. I set off to go there...short trip...something like an hour and as soon as I get there, and these boys are ready to go to the club...so I get ready and we head out.
The club, as would be expected, was full of nice looking mama's, asian, white, black, kenyan too, since we're everywhere like roaches (I swear you could go to the North pole, knock on some random igloo and a Kenyan will pop out with some frozen ugali in his hand).
As fate would have it, I met up with a kenyan one, decided to hook up with her behind since for one, she had an ample one, two, she was easy prey (jamaas were avoiding her coz of how she was dancing, which was basically a concoction of being struck by lightening while being bitten by ants, as you were running away from a rabid dog while imitating a chicken flapping its wings...by the way, I'm being lenient. Or maybe it was in the way she drank her rum and coke...which I swear is exactly how a kuku drinks water...I dunno. Half the time when she danced, I couldn't tell whether she was facing forward or backwards), three she had an ample behind (did I already say that...well, I feel like it deserves second mention, if for nothing else, then at the very least, I think each butt cheek should get it's own mention) and last but not least, I was feeling a little bit patriotic since I had forgotten to celebrate Jamuhuri day last December, and this was going to be my way of paying homage to my people (Bw. John seemed to whisper as he slowly saluted in my nether regions).
THE WAR:
Well, the folly of my actions was soon to be revealed, and consequently punished in a plethora of avenues, because as soon as I decided to dance with this random looking Wangare, this bitc...ok...this goddamn punda of a woman went on to kick and step on my legs and feet so unrelentingly, I almost went to look for a rock so that I could at least welcome her into this little world of pain that she was creating for me...then she kept on apologizing, asking me whether she hurt me. WHAT??? Is she serious? Did you hurt me...NO...you idiot...you didn't hurt me. But you have successfully conviced me that you were raised by a bunch of donkeys which used to fight alot...that's what.
THE RAIN:
So, I decided to man up...I was able to convice myself (dunno about the level of success I achieved with the conviction though) that the tears coming from my eyes due to this girl suffering from severe jackassitis, were eye sweat, I manage to pull her away from the dance floor and get her to sit down. I notice though, that all of a sudden, the dancefloor is a little bit more silent, albeit the music. At one point, I had been wondering why the hell the beats of the music being played were so off...only to realize that this dummy was stomping the ground so hard with her "dancing", it sounded like a wildebeast stampede. Ok...ok...I'll stop it with her dancing...lakini, ai! So as we're sitting down, I start to talk to her, just so that I know what she's all about...and amazingly, she's got good vibe, talks sense and all, she's got a good head on her shoulders, she's got plans and all....she could have used numerous tic tacs and a prayer for her mouth....but I guess that's excusable, seeing as this has been a really long night. Her hair was kidogo jacked up, and she shrubbed only slightly (those R's and L's can be a killer), but I tell myself to be open minded and be an EOF (equal opportunity fucker). She doesn't look half bad, so I decide to chomoa a couple of dingy lines and see if she was going to come home with me. I soon realize that I could have offered this girl a partially populated moshakwe and she woulda still come home with me, so I get my coat and tell her that we can bounce.
...AND THEN, IT RAINED
So we get to this girls hao, and I don't know whether to laugh or to run away or to call the authorities on her behind. First of all, there was mold on her door...MOLD ON HER DOOR...AND in the winter!!! How the hell does mold get on the door? I understand it being on bread or something like that, unless her door is made out of bread...but what the hell??? Of course, I let her open the thing, coz you never know what creature from the recesses of the door might jump at you. We go up to her bedroom, and it looks like it was designed by grenade: clothes everywhere, food remnants...I mean, the only reason that this place didn't have roaches is coz even the roaches have some amount of self respect. Bw. John at the time was going through the motions, fighting with me on whether to stay or not...
Me:Can you see this damn room?
Bw. John:Can you produce milk...how the hell am I supposed to see the room you moron?
Me: I really don't wanna be here, some food in here's so old, I think cavemen left it behind
Bw. John: Do I look like I have legs so that I can take you away from this place? Question is, are you gonna put me in something or not?
Me: Is that all you ever think of?
Bw. John: No...I also think of nuclear physics!
Me: Sarcastic bastard!
Bw. John: Whatever
Me: So, paper or plastic?
Bw. John: Double bag
Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out where they sold full body condoms (coulda certainly come in handy at this juncture), but I decide to make do with that which had been made available to me, and I proceeded to play jackhammer with her sehemu ya aibu...I was drunk and horny, what do you want from me? Besides, she was pretty good at doing the do...so it really didn't matter...at the time. So, after a couple of hours, sobriety comes back to its rightful place in my kichwa, and I see a piece of bread on the floor...wait, if I'm looking at the floor, why can I feel the mattress on my back??? Is that the light bulb? Does this bitch have a piece of bread on the damned ceiling??? What the fuck??? Why the hell does she have bread on the damned ceiling??? Then I notice that my hands had already started calling my ride to come get me from this dump...hold on...I was kinda drunk when coming home...did we get into a garbage receptacle? Does she pay rent for living in a garbage can? In about 15 minutes, my ride comes and I slip out without saying a damn thing...she doesn't see my ass getting out. Good riddance!!!
A couple of days later, my sehemu ya aibu starts to become seriously unfriendly...so I see a doc and the mutha says I got goddamn crabs. I wasn't even surprised...so I'm like just give me whatever's going to kick the stupid muthas off me, and knock me a few times on the head so that I pata some amnesia and forget all that traumatizing shit that I went through at this woman's hao. He does and I apply the cream as instructed, and curse out the heavens on why there was no divine intervention when I was about to get into her crib....a hand, a fight, faint for the first time...something. Then I notice something very strange...these fuckers come rushing to where the dawa is concentrated! Great, now I've patad junkie crabs...they get high on dawa! At least it helps me figure out a way to get rid of them, just weka the dawa somewhere on a table or something and let them go party.
So basically, now, I'm in need someone who knows the law vizuri, coz I'm contemplating suing this doggone woman for pain and suffering...you're all my witnesses.
posted by Sleek Rick at 12:26 PM
3 comments
