Come on admit it. There’s that one person whose shadow you don’t want to see at your doorsteps. And it’s worse when that person is in some way your sang-meme. Because if they’re just a friend you can just say, ‘Ay, jerk off. Take a hike!’You cannot say that to a relative unless you are really dim witted. People take these things seriously. If you ignore family, you’ll be cremated when you die because there’ll be no space to bury you sorry ass in the village.
So, if you happen to know a woman who is your father’s step-grand uncle’s sister-in-law that always makes it a point to ‘keep up appearances’, you know exactly why I say that shit means war. I don’t know how they do it but they always show up at the very right time – for them of course. Like you could order liquor and they show up just when you’re pulling out your wallet to cash the bill. Or when on occasion you decide to fry 2kgs of pork (for own consumption) and they crash the party.
Personally, I don’t mind.
The part that fills me with an overwhelming desire to stuff my foot in her mouth is when she starts ordering me around. She wants me to be at her beck and call like I don’t have better useless things to do with my time. She looks everywhere impatiently, waiting with a sour face that even her mother would find hard to love, arms folded, tapping her feet, looking at the watch every thirty seconds and asking if the food is ready every 60 seconds, then when its ready do you know what the bitch does?
She takes a bite, smirks and asks why you haven’t got a maid to ‘do some of these things’ because you are apparently not cut out to pull it off.
Sincerely shut the fuck up.
It wouldn’t have been that bad if they weren’t boring. Very boring I must add; every moment I spend with y’all, I feel like I’m literally watching my life go to waste. It’s so bad that if we are to pit odds on the life of the naked insane nigger who’s picking up trash just around the street corner against my life, he would win effortlessly. There’s a relative I know. He’s either my nephew or I’m he’s nephew, I don’t know. Our parents thought we should link up so that I could give him a run-down on this whole campus thing because he’s a freshman.
First of all, I don’t know shit about campus. Sometimes I wonder what the fuck I’m doing running up and down this bitch. But I thought I could give him a run-down on where to score some weed, where to find the cheapest bars or the strip clubs that boast the kinkiest girls.
Stuff like that.
Secondly, I’m reluctant to let people into my life nowadays. It’s more like a gamble because you can never be sure who is going to elevate your life or who’s going to drag you down. Most of the gambles I take end up in the latter. Downtown Baghdad is serene in comparison with this thing that I call my life. There’s all these people who are shoving things in my face. It’s becoming a sort of cliché that my body is some sort of dumping ground for narcotics and some really dangerous mixtures for my friends.
And I take it all in good faith because I hate sobriety more than…I don’t know *insert something you really hate*.
This dude er, relative was weird. Well, mostly because he didn’t have any narcotics. He was just there to see me. Hmm, why do I find that weird? Do you find that weird? Because hell fuckin yeah, it’s weird. So since I’m yet to figure out how normal sober folk hangout, I hit it off with a lot of ooh’s and aah’s. I heard soccer is the best place to start an awkward conversation but sadly, I hate soccer. Okay, I dig soccer but I’m just not big on it. As in I’ll watch if you’re paying for the drinks.
Nope, that’s not the same thing as being a gold digger.
I know relatives like eating and stuff so I prepare the dude some shit in the hopes that he’ll leave after that. He finishes and he’s still right there. Two grown ass men staring at each other on a Sunday afternoon. Sighs. I couldn’t get a smoke, I couldn’t drink.
I.was.slowly.dying.
I tried to make conversation;
Me: Hey, have you noticed how really yellow those curtains are?
Him: Yep, I know! Is that yellow?
WIT (what I’m thinking): Dude seriously, you want to talk rainbows?
Him: Gwe, does your computer work?
Me: As a matter of fact yes…it does work!
Him: Do you have films for watching?
WIT: Films…when was the last time I heard that?
I did not want to watch anything with this motherfucker because first of all, I hate watching movies with people because they always talk too much and I want to get every line. Secondly, what kind of movie should I show this 6 foot package of boredom? I thought maybe Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan would be perfect because those guys’ movies don’t require a lot of attention and dialogue…guys just shout some shit and bang the brains out of theyselves.
By bang I didn’t mean sex you perv.
We settled for This Means War. Heard of it? Of course you have, this blog is for the known and learned. It’s an awesome movie…almost as good as the one I’m writing. See, you’re the first to know that I’m writing a screenplay for the best movie to ever come out of this dump of a country. Need a sneak peek? Follow this blog because they say good things come to those who follow this blog.
Okay, where were we? Watching some war shit I presume…
As predicted, he started talking at once.
Him: Mwana, it’s like that ka chic has nuggu on the ka other one.
Me: What?
Him: The ka chic, she has nuggu! Can’t you see?
Me: Yes, the ka chic has nuggu. (sighs)
*watching*
Him: Is that the man who was with the other ka chic?
Me: Yes.
Him: But he looks like the other man who died.
Me: Yes they’re brothers.
Him: Are you sure?
Me: No.
Him: Wama, you’re right. Eh, kale they look together (resemble). First rewind and we see ko how he died.
*I flash that sarcastic smile like Agent Mahon style*
Me: Ay, dude I know of a really nice short cut to your place. You wanna check it out?
Personal Note: I just made over 700 page views on this blog which is arguably the most awesome thing to happen ever since you started touching yourself at a tender age. I really appreciate all the support because without you, I’m just another alcoholic and/or drug addict. You have no idea how much it motivates me to know that I’ve people who read my shit. I love you. Er, no homo. Please keep reading and keep sharing!
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