Have a Laugh

Riddle

What does the writer of this blog have in common with the Arsenal Manager, Arsene Wenger?

They both don’t know jack about soccer.

I was invited by some of my more elite chaps to watch one of those Premiership games in Kyambogo. I was supposed to meet them at a place called Norfolk Inn. You might have heard of it. You haven’t?  Well, me neither – at least until last weekend. After rotating in several circles, the boda boda guy finally ‘found’ the place. He obviously overcharged me. I suspect it had something to do the terrible insult I hurled at him (in my mother tongue).

As in, how the dickens can you not know where Norfolk Inn is? Everyone knows that place!

So I arrive in a sweat, pull up a seat behind the counter and start pretending like I know what the cartoon figures on the 21” screen are doing. A lot of back slapping and greetings follow. I am going to call the guys by the drinks they were sipping (awesome, ain’t it?).

Nile Special: You wanker, I can see you finally made it! How are the girls of Makerere? No, don’t answer that, I am sure you have no clue.

Club: Perhaps you should ask him about the number of soap tablets left under his bed. This one has managed to forge a profession out of masturbation.

They all erupt in laughter and I join in, signaling the waitress for a Club.

Me: Congratulations, you are officially in the company of Arthur Wonny. That means you get to make a pass time of my awesomeness.

Club: Seriously, Arthur I know times are hard. My salary is way overdue and the missus needs something for Valentine’s but I am willing to sacrifice. I offer myself wholeheartedly like a saint. Allow me to buy you a slut – at least let’s get that virginity out of the way.

Me: Are you serious? Like a whole slut? Whoa! I honestly didn’t know I held such an esteemed position in your life. Can we get one of those around that plaza next to Mutasa Kafeero? They have three minute asses – as in, when she walks by, you see the end of her butt like after three minutes. Yes, that big.

Nile: You know it baffles and infuriates us all that you are still a virgin. Make me understand - how is it possible for you to stay in a place that is literally raining bitches and not be able to confuse at least one nappy headed dimwit to toast your salad? Aren’t you in 3^rd year now?

Me: I am actually very proud of it.

All: What the ----?!

Me: No, not the virginity bit of it – the 3^rd year bit. I am proud to be a 3^rd year student.

They all laugh. An older guy with a receding hairline who is sipping vodka joins in.

Vodka: This guy has a sense of humor! You’re not seriously a virgin, are you? Because if you are, I will convince everyone in this bar to start sweet talking the waitresses until we get you laid.

Club: Oh, by the way Arthur, this guy is called Voddo, short for Vodka. Voddo, meet the tiniest person on the planet. He is so tiny that he’s verging on irrelevance.

Me: Seriously? Voddo? That’s your real name?

Nile: Yes, it is. This guy is bad news. He is the reason why Vodka is called Vodka. You see, before he was born, it was known simply as the colorless liquid with the blues.

More laughter ensues. No kidding, the guy is actually called Voddo.

Me: So, how did the Man United game end?

They all look at me strangely – like a Muslim in a catholic church.

Me: The Man United – Bolton game?

Nile: Linda (the waitress), get this boy as much alcohol as possible. He is apparently waiting for the Bolton game – I don’t know if you’ll be showing one of those sometime this year.

It was my turn to look confused.

Club: Bolton is in 2^nd division you thick headed motherfucker.

Me: Oh!

*thinks*

Me: Well, which team did we play today?

They all start laughing.

Nile: You see, that is why you can’t even get laid. It is a simple matter of asking. What time is the Man Utd game? Like, what time can I shag you?

Me: Okay, what time?

Nile: You want me to shag you?

Me: #%&&!!???

Club: Hahaha…Sweet Jesus! He is actually a faggot!

Me: No, I won’t argue with you. All we need is your mother and some rubber to prove otherwise.

Club: No worries, you’ll have to add a hoe and a shovel on that list ‘cause she’s already six under. Anyway, the nigger norms dictate that when someone calls you a fag, you’re supposed to stamp it out there and then! Don’t give people any probable doubt.

Vodka: Look to the brighter side of things, at least he won’t be a virgin then.

They all hooted and toasted. I sought solace in my drink and turned to the game. Chelsea players were filing out of the dressing room to the field. I figured it was just starting because that is what they normally do when a game is well, starting. Within a few minutes, Chelsea had scored against some other team. Another goal followed seconds later. And another. After about five minutes, the score was 4 – 1! I quickly wrote on my facebook wall;

Drinking beer, watching the Chelsea game…these guys have scored four goals in five minutes! That’s badness!

The Club guy took a peek at my screen before I posted and shook his head warily.

Club: Those are highlights you asshole. The game ended five hours ago.

<-- Backspace that shit.

Have a laugh at my awkwardness and feel free to share!