Humble Pie

So, evidently I had become notorious for airing out some few people here and there, but last sunday I was forced to eat multiple helpings of humble pie...and when I say helpings, I mean a ginormous, self-replenishing (with shame filling) helpings of humble pie...and as usual, I'll share my not so good tidings with you my (mostly) unseen and unmet, yet strangely close and hopefully entertained wananchi.

After a long strech of kamataing hoodrats and not so I'm-going-to-take-you-home chicks, last sato while at the club, I hooked up with a fine girl, and when I say fine, I mean so fine to the point you feel your balls tingling when talking to her, to the point you can already see your children, to the point you want to kwenda home with her and scrub your balls religiously so that if you happen to angukia the goods, they smell like a fresh spring day (and by the way, I've been to Ireland in the spring, and I gotta say, spring in Ireland smells nothing like Irish Spring soap. Where do the lies end? Then again, it's quite a leap from asepso back in the day...that was just torture. I mean, sabuni isn't supposed to kill bacteria as well as roaches...but again, that's another storo). So, to my unbrided glee, girl kubalid to come home for my bullshitly (yes it's a word, I don't care what you say...shuddup!!) suggested "after party", lakini in my head, I was just skiaing Big Pin's "I yeng to the beat", and for the shengly challenged, that means I shag, fuck or segere (whatever) to the beat, which was my number one intention with her. After seeing her dancing to dutty wine, sgt. Shit-For-Brains went ahead and had a discussion with Bw. John, a meeting obviously carried out without my knowledge or consent since all of a sudden, I started to realize that my pants feel a tad too tight. By the time I realized that there was anything like that going on, the meeting was over, and Bw. John was pigaing salute to the sgt as if Moi was about to inspect the Guard of Honor. So before anyone could see that I was "pitching a tent", I did the move, the ultimate adjustment...jamaas, you know this one, the one you jifanya like you're tucking in your tshirt, lakini you're actually either lifting the shuma so that it points north, ama you push it all the way chini so that your belt or underwear holds it...ama is that just me? For me, North worked just fine, especially since I was wearing a big ass untucked shirt, so bw. John would have a few minutes to look at the stars before realizing that it was kaaing next to a part of the ng'ombe that was making a mostly futile attempt to go around my waist (I need to keep chanting, "round is a shape... round is NOT in shape), thereby introducing it to a temporary state of depression, which in turn would make my Chocolate Thunder mellow out.

Since Miss Pretty had kujad with her not so pretty nor interesting friends, I ambiad her that I would give her a ride home, and I hoped that the fart that I had let out in the gari as I was approaching the club had been absorbed by the upholstery. BOB tends to do that sometimes...actually, I half expected the girl to see BOB and bolt. We walk towards the car, and I can almost hear her asking herself whether she was going to need tetanus shots after riding in BOB, and I assure her, telepathically of course, that she will not. As I start the car, both of us let out a sigh of relief, since none of us was sure that the damn thing was going to start, not that it would have been a problem, coz I was willing to beba her ass on my back all the way home if the need arose. Shuma irikuwa razima irare dani!

As I'm driving home, in a semi-blizzard, at like 2 miles an hour with a raging boner which was at this time pulsating and thumping on my tummy, I couldn't help but feel like a midget was trying to give me CPR while I was still standing, and was missing horribly. I tried to stifle the smile on my face, but she caught it, so I was like, no, I'm just excited coz you're so fine. After what seemed like a lifetime to me and especially drill sgt. shit-for-brains, we got home, and immediately broke out into a prayer, not necessarily about being seen safely home in this horrid weather (I was thankful though). First I prayed that it would snow incessantly for a week so that she and I wouldn't do anything but chill with each other and shag senseless. Secondly, was afraid that the super alien breed of roaches that now have me paying them rent would please grant me the decency of behaving like other regular roaches and scatter when they see the light instead of shielding their eyes as they do now...I mean...seriously...what the hell. And I think they're working out, and are on steroids, and I coulda sworn that I saw one of them in a vest and walking on two legs.

I apologize for the diversion, back to the story. So, of course the roaches don't scatter, they look to see if whoever's stepped in the hao is a familiar face and as soon as they see it's me, they go back to doing their business, and I see some of them walking behind my bangable item for the night (and possibly for a long time after that as well) and started pointing at her ass with their antlers. "It's all good", I thought, "I get to bang her". I go to open my mouth to say something to her and to my surprise and downright delectation, the girl jumps me, and I realize she's as horny as cow on heat watching cow porn. Huku, I'm happy as a clam and of course, my fingers make my way under her skirt in record time, and I realize that the fountains where they chota KY Jelly must be, coz she was dripping...which made me happy, coz that morning, as I watched the discovery channel I'd found out how rubber is tapped from rubber trees...I'm learning things and learning is enjoyable. School should always be like this. Ok, why am I talking about rubber. Back to the girl. So the girl shikas Chocolate Thunder, a.k.a. Bw. John, a.k.a. Little Rascal and starts to stroke wildly, and somehow I manage to turn the lights off, coz at this time, I'm thinking in my head that at the rate that she's rubbing my shuma, it's going to burst into a flaming torch and that there would be more than sufficient light. So, I find my CD's and start fumbling with the damn thing, trying to get ready for our bedminton session. Man she's horny...I love it! Unfortunately, she senses my difficulty with the CD and she goes like, "si uwashe taa" and I'm like "No, No, I'll get it", then she says "No, just turn it on, coz I like it with the lights on anyway". At this time, who am I to refuse, I mean, literally, who am I to refuse, coz the sergeant has got all control at this point, and my hand turns the light on faster than a puppet on crack.

Alas, the folly of my past actions, and the source of my everlasting shame got to a meeting point, coz as soon as the lights came on, both our focus shifted to my nether regions and beheld a sight that still holds an emotional scar to this very minute. My eyes widened and a cold sweat embraced every inch of my body, especially Little Rascal, coz he immediately shrunk to the size of a baby carrot, bowing his head as a Samurai soldier would in disgrace, ready to perform the dreaded Harakiri. The girl burst out laughing and I stood there embarrassed like a mutha cursing every single god of rational thought for not allowing me the sense to go to the bathroom to make sure everything was sawa. I'm looking at this girl, and now, she's falling off the bed, tears streaming down her face, now twisted to the point of me not recognizing her anymore as she gasps for air coz she's laughing so hard, and I tell my meat that I'm going to cut it off and feed it to my neighbor's cat. The reason for her laughter/my embarrassment was coz balls had pararad like they were floured and breaded waiting to be deep fried and sold as a delicacy...so bad, it was like I had Michael Jackson's balls on loan for the day (does the mutha still have his cajones by the way, ama did he get a vagina? Someone get back to me on that one. On second thought, it's ok, forget I said anything).

I quickly hepa and try to save the night coz in about a split second, the sergeant had sent an SOS to my main brain, "WE'RE AT DEFCON 5!!! WE'RE AT DEFCON 5!!! AMBER ALERT!!! GO GO GO!" So my legs take off, and of course, since the transfer of my reasoning capabilities was being done at a speed never done before, the capabilities went south to an obviously surprised pair of legs, which were so excited at the opportunity to think for once that I ran straight to the kitchen, then of course, the rest of my body realizes that my legs are idiots and quickly strip my legs of this "gift" and as soon as they realize that my hands have grabbed a baster, my body realizes that no other part of my body, save for the brain, should be trusted with my reasoning capacity, mostly due to lack of experience. Soon, I get a rational thought in my head, the first one in what seemed like a lifetime, even though this whole thing happened in less than 5 minutes. I go to the bathroom and wash my stuff, and lotion my equipment. I can still hear her huko, still in stitches about the whole spectacle. I get myself together and walk back to her, halfway in shame, but hopeful, coz I wanted to punish her pudesh for the laughter...and luckily, she thinks the whole thing is so funny and cute that she's more than willing to make me know that it's ok, and boy did she ever make it up to me. So yeah, humble pie I'm still eating mpaka now...as well as her nether regions.

I guess I learned my lesson...then again, I was never really a good student.