Stray Cats

 *Loud knock at the door*    

*checks time*

…3 a.m.

Holy faggety fuck! Who the devil is that?

*Louder knock at the door* Aaarghh!

-          Yo, Arthur OPEN UP!

-          Go away!

-          Man, Arthur are you sleeping?

-          No, I’m scuba diving in the Dominican Republic.

-          What?!

-          Of course I’m sleeping, what the heck do you want?

-           Yo, first open up man. I’ve a big deal for you.

-          At 3 am? Look, whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying. Just go away!

-          There’s a cold beer out here…if you decide to open.

-          I don’t drink.

-          Cool, suit yourself.

-          *thinks*(…a beer at 3am isn’t entirely the worst way to start the day) if I open that door and there’s no beer I swear I’m going to throw you over the balcony.

-          Deal

*Opens the door*

-          First things first…where’s the beer?

-          Look, Arthur you’re like a brother so I want you to do one thing for me.

-          What do you want? There isn’t any beer, is there brother?

-          No beer. What I want is for you to find somewhere to sleep.

Blinks

-          What? Hey I know I’ve a ruggedy room but I’m fine here—

It was at this point that I realized he wasn’t alone. Some girl came up behind him and by the end of this post, you’ll know why I decided to bestow upon her the name Sergeant Single Slut. She flashed me that naye naawe look. I threw my hands up in the air in resignation and picked up a pillow before leaving the room for them to get giddy with each other.

-          Ay, don’t  mess up my sheets—

*he slammed the door in my face*

It really depresses me that I wrote that last statement.

Anyway it was my turn to knock on doors. My dawg (whom I shall refer to as Dawg in this post) sleeps on the next floor. He refused to open as I would have expected. As I muttered obscene curses directed at his family mostly, I saw him staggering up the stairs.

 My spirits rose.

And fell when I realized a drunk tall babe was literally hanging onto him for support. I’ll call Dawg’s babe Miss Olympic Boobs because…well she has Olympic boobs. I hope you know the hierarchy of boobs. Here’s the menu for future reference:

(  .  ) (  .  )        Big boobs

( . ) ( . )            Medium boobs

( ) ( )                Small boobs

.   .                   Olympic boobs

There you have it! Oh you’re wondering why they’re called Olympic? When have you ever seen a nice pair of racks at the Olympics dumbo? Not never!

I am seriously losing the plot for this post. Boobs can be distracting…

Ok, fast forward to morning. I go to my room to find Bro and Sergeant Single Slut still getting cozy in bed. She looks at me flirtatiously. Mbu can I get her something to eat. What? Well, a blow job would be nice. The guy you’ve been shagging is right next to you, let him get you breakfast Bitch.

Scratch that…of course I didn’t say that because I was brought up by a nice Christian family (love you mum). I flashed that sarcastic smile and went ahead to prepare them breakfast-like some twisted sort of appreciation for messing my sheets. Dawg and Miss Olympic Boobs made an entrance with quite a fuss because she BADLY needed a cigarette. I got her one. Then she mentioned beer and all of a sudden the Slut didn’t want breakfast anymore. Well, not that she didn’t want…she wanted breakfast and beer.

Cool. Beer it is.

We spent the entire day doing nothing but drinking. The Slut was asking for everything from everyone. At some point I jokingly offer to buy her a phone and she lets me touch her boobs for like 10 seconds. Yay! She wanted to have a rolex, rice, matooke, meat and bunch of other stuff that girls from the ghetto eat only on New Year’s. Miss Olympic Boobs was hating all the attention the slut was receiving (like, hello…I am the styled up one from Nkonzi; trust me that bitch has nothing on me *smirk*).

Besides the Slut really knew how to slut. She was rolling with whoever had the D’s. She whispered mostly so we all didn’t know who she wanted bang next. It got so bad that at some point, M.O.B. pulled out the Slut’s boob!

No way!

It was like some early Christmas for us. Every one digs a little girl-on-girl. The sun set…the boys were high, the girls were hating each other. In short, everything was perfect. To spite                                                          M.O.B., the Slut offered to sleep with Dawg.

I hate long posts so let’s just say whatever happened next is a whole other different story.