Three Judges and One Glass of Milk

Hi dudes and damsels,
It's at night. As usual I am alone, and I have a nightmare. Full stop. Next paragraph.

We talk right, you come here, hear what I have to say, I offer you my coffee. It's up there on my screen. Can you imagine no one ever takes it? The cup is always full. Talk about you guys being non appreciative. You are total snobs. No, you aren't? Really? Why is the coffee cup still there and full? Full stop. Next paragraph.

It's at night, I have been having nightmares, so it's kind of like am on my periods. Am bitchy, you know why, everyone is peacefully asleep. And I am awake, and when I sleep, I wake up with cold sweats. Terror. Nightmares. Like a horror movie. Only that I don't like horror movies! Full stop...sorry meant exclamation mark. Next paragraph.

So guys, dudes, and damsels, I decided I should talk to you, mostly to kill time, avoiding to fall asleep (back to horror movies I don't like) and hoping some of you will try to be funny. How? You ask? I bet you someone might just tag me to a photo of a glass of milk or water on my fan page, then ask me why am not taking the milk. Mugo, have it, you always complaining about no one having you coffee. Here is our milk, here is some milk for you nightmare. Have it. And everyone will think it's funny. Yes?

Am afraid of sleeping, I can't believe am saying that, but am afraid of sleeping cause it means going back to the same nightmare I had... 

So Let me tell you about it ladies and gents. 

I was seated before three people. Think vetting, think judges. 

It was as scary as hell. They had cameras all over, and people were rooting for me, backing me up. 

It was a couple of years into the future, and you know what, I still blogged. Oh yes I did. And in the future you guys commented. Oh yes you did, you questioned shitty ideas I put up on my post. Sometimes I put up some really dumb lines here and there to see whether you are brave, believe in democracy. You have a voice, but guess what, you guys just chill out. And now and then give me a tap on my shoulder. But you guys, oh you guys in the future commented. Crazy. I tell you. Crazy.
By the way, you wouldn't believe how friendly chics have become... It feels really good being a writer.

Back to my nightmare, "wear a red tie, were a black suit, with strips. It must have strips, you know lawyers. Stripped suits."

Everyone was pushing me, I had to be a judge. And when I sat there, in front of the country, live cameras, three judges about to question my confidence out, interview me, I sweated. And what did I do?

I shamelessly took out my blackberry, yes, I still used blackberries in the future. But in the future they are cooler. You definitely buy a bb in the future. Cool stuff. You can easily blog with them. 
I took it out, and start talking to you guys. I started writing. Right there before the judges and the camera. And am sweating. I can't stop.

See you don't choose your dreams, or rather nightmare, do you? No really do you?  If we did, I would have just dreamed myself in a Jaguar XJ, and with a hot pair of sunglasses, i really should get a pair, definitely not writing this.

"We are ready to start." 

I had to put my phone back to my pocket, stop using it under the desk. The camera went on.

"one, two three action..."

Shoot, shoot! I felt like a dear in lights.

"So, Mr. Mugo. Why do you think you will make a good judge?"

I had reasons, I knew them by heart, words like good jurisprudence, justice equality, fighting crime were in my head, heart, mind and part of my blood. But in my nightmare, I couldn't speak. I was a dear in lights. Spot lights. Stranded.

And if that wasn't enough, I started to sweat. How I wished those guys hadnt colored me with make up. Now, I was sweating, and the sweat dripping out of my face with make up. It was like... It was like... Like bad plastic surgery. Like my face was falling.

"Mr. Mugo... Why do you think you will make a good judge?"

There were lots of people in the room. Judges, camera men, guys who had supported me up to where I was, my friends, my enemies, my mentors, my old boss, yeah I have an old boss in the future, she is hot, but I quit working for her, then banged her. I bet I did it well cause she was there and everyone else. Yes. The whole bloody country was watching me screw up my career, and my make up. Even my kids. Mugo-lets.

"Madaam and Sirs, my lords... I want to... I want to..."
And I felt like high school all over again, remember that math lesson. Yeah, the one I was writing poetry to this girl and that shameless math teacher caught me, told me to go in front of the class, and solve that math problem I knew nothing about. Sitting on my desk making me the teacher.

He thought it was funny, it was funny. It was high school, you had to walk to the board with chalk, when you were asked to, at least write something, even if it was shit. But definitely not 'shit', you know what I mean. If you wrote 'sh**' they would definitely stick a suspension letter up your ass. Then send you home.
Guess what? I couldn't write a thing, I was too nervous (stage fright), but that wasn't the only reason I couldn't write, I also couldn't write cause I didn't know jerk. I was doing my own things as he taught. What did he expect?

I scribbled senseless numbers on the board. It was math anyways. Right?

"Mugo... Why have you put a 2 there?"

I turned and stared at the class. Oh and did I fear being in front of a crowd. My hands started shaking, and my knees and it was visible. But what was really pathetic was that he let me seat down. Everyone was laughing like it was a joke. Then suddenly, I was so damn pathetic guys, they felt sorry for me, petied me. They stopped laughing, even asked me to sit down. And you know what, that math teacher didn't let anyone who went to the board sit down, but he did me. I couldn't even hold the chalk. 

I was sweating. I was pathetic. 

I wasn't holding chalk, I was holding my blackberry under the table this time. I felt it vibrate. Those must Be notifications, from my blog. From my Facebook fan page. Did I tell you you guys commented a lot in the future? You better believe me, cause in my 'dreams' you did.

I looked at the camera, wondered whether anyone saw the make up falling off  my face, dripping with sweat like a girl crying with mascara on. I was wearing a white shirt. They didn't let me wear a blue one. Everyone rooting for me. As much as they rooted for me cause they know I would jail thugs and what not... I wouldnt be corrupt, I had character and what not. They told me, I must wear white. So that the judges think am serious.

I wished I had won, blue. Cause now the make up on my neck was soiling my shirt collar. I could feel it like you would feel a layer of mud on your face. Now the whole country must be talking about how I dint shower. And guys must be tagging me with photos of towels and soaps. And then I wished they didn't comment.

My lass, my damsel, my baby was in the background. She was throwing her hands ridiculously up trying to cheer me on. And my friends to. Some were staring at me with disappointment written all over there face. Some had a smile. Happy I was failing. But my babe looked ridiculous... She didn't care how she looked supporting me, my friends didn't too, and I knew some of you guys were tagging me to photos of trophies. Think congratulations before the interview was even over. Photos of champagne. 

That though is what kept me going. I started to dish out answers. My thoughts, my mind. Filling my sentences with words like justice, good jurisprudence, making the country safer. All robbery with violence sentenced, all car jackers, kidnappers sentenced. Justice, uncorrupt decisions. Integrity etc

And I was fired up. My mind was...

I could read the judges, the decisions to whether I will make a judge or not rested on them, my fate was in their words, they could either break me or make me, I studied them.

The lady judge was in the middle, the fat guy judge on the right, and the one on the left was slimmer. 

The fat cat looked a little spoilt, no, he was spoilt. He must have been the kind that never worked for anything in his life, so he didn't give a rats ass about laws that made it conducive for young ambitious men to succeed. Not that he was a bad guy, he seemed to be the kind to mainly protect wealth. Rule ruthlessly against trespassers and thieves etc. 
Typical body language, his head was raised, as if looking at the sky, he sat in a manner that occupied space completely, like a king, it must have come from his belief that he ruled the world. Or rather his friends did if he didn't. He didn't care to suck up, he shamelessly talked fidgeting with his pen, he yawned. I knew how to deal with him once he asked me a question.

The slim guy, he was neat, his tie was a little very fancy, a bit flashy even. He wasn't dressed as conservative as the first. He was the kind to drive a Hammer with shiny rims, he deserved it anyways. He must have build himself from scratch, no connections, no networks and what not. He struggled, he beat the odds. And now he was a judge, powerful. He was a knight, worked within the suppressive laws and won. He caught attention everywhere he went, telling thrilling tales of how he won against all odds. He was the kind to suck up a little, he used his charm to win. So he gave the camera attention, he didn't play with his pen or phone talking. I knew how to answer his question. I knew what to emphasize.

Then the lady, oh she was beautiful. The lady judge was seated between the two guy judges. She was in a black robe, she was beautiful regardless that she was a mother. I knew she had kids, I had researched about her before I was there. She was excessively respected, she didn't condone people talking her down, or disrespecting her. She sent people to cells, the ones whose phones rang loud in her court. She had this powerful presence, she looked like the boss. She could easily get pissed off and ask the camera men to walk out with their shenanigans. They felt intimidated by her, it showed. She must have been thoroughly ambitious and determined. She must be the kind that appeared on women magazines often, telling women all over, you should look at the sky. It is the limit. The limitless sky is the limit. And when she was asked to give an example. She pointed her self, and women were inspired.

"My learned lords, I feel am fit to be a judge because I am thorough, and I will apply the law to rid society or murders, car jackers, thieves..." I said this particularly looking at the fat judge, with my head high. Talk about being condescending, talk about building rapport.

"My lords, I am throughly determined to apply the law, and good jurisprudence in ensuring that I am fair, and for gender equality in applying the law, with regards to mothers, wives, daughters, children in matters to do with inheritance..."
I said particularly looking at the lady judge, right in the eye. But I never took my eyes above her face, she liked power, so I subdued, I looked at her eyes, then down, eyes then down. She felt respected.

"My lords, I am here hoping you give me a chance, to become a judge cause I am hungry, I thirst to apply law in fairness, ensuring that justice is done, For the good of society, for development of the society, for development of individuals..."
I looked at the slim guy, right in the eyes. As I said this.

I had handled it well, everyone was smiling. 

Dudes and damsels, ladies and gents, after it was over, and the cameras went off. Everyone looked relieved. My baby came and hugged me crying, it's okay, it's okay. 

I wondered why?

"It's not a big deal... It's not a big deal..."

I thought I had nailed it. Why were they all in such a sympathetic mood. Even the part where they asked me about my blog... I thought I answered well.

Apparently I did not. And not only had I screwed up my chance of being a judge, all the connections, all the networking, all the hard work, all the favors I had called, family had called, wasted.

I had screwed up my reputation as a lawyer, attorney or whatever you want to call it.
Dammit.

And I woke up, with cold sweats.  

Its a wrap. 

The End.

Now, guys,  let me try to go back to sleep. I hope no more nightmares. 

She Laughed

Men are impatient, hold yourself together. Not literally, see what I mean? Women on the other hand, are superstars in holding back. How long does it take them to grab the pillow and squeeze it with eyes shut toes clenching and a scream. See what I mean? Men, impatient, women patient.

We can only work so much, religiously toil for our goals, but one morning you just wake up on the right side of the bed, play your music a little louder, do a few more press ups, sweat a little, get your blood flowing nicer, let water pour a little longer in the shower, squeeze the shower gel a little generously, Iron your shirt a little longer.

It was that day, I woke up on the right side of the bed. Anyways I couldn't wake up on the left side of my bed, my bed is on the wall next to the window, so it's the right side of the bed everyday. Unless of course I wake up as a vampire or those other fancy animals in romantic novels!

I felt myself smile, for no apparent reason, I felt radiant, I felt energetic, maybe it was from the push ups, or from Detol Cool. Oh detol cool is heaven. Minty fresh. I ironed my shirt dancing. As I said, music played a little louder. I sang along, singing in the shower makes you confident. But singing in your bedroom alone getting ready to dress up. Now that makes you nuts. And I was nuts, I was ready to take over the world. 

I let out three drops of perfume on me, one under my arm, another on my a wrist, and the last under my collar. That's how gentlemen wear perfume. Not on socks and underwear or on sausages... Come on! Smell like a christmas tree? This day I let six drops of perfume on me. On my neck, two, under arms two, wrists two. There is ready, three drops are ready. Six drops, double ready!

It was almost worth it. I walked into the library, and that's where I first saw her. Her hair was lovely, a light brown, it's not the color I liked the most, but the way she held it behind. It was just girl. And I felt boy. 

I hadn't seen her before, but she was in the library, that meant we were in the same school. A big plus. If I meet a hot lass, on the street, or in a club or at the mall. Even if she smiled at me, she would walk away and be gone forever. What were the odds of us meeting again? But the library, oh yes, yes I would meet her again. 

All I needed to do was get her attention. All I needed to do is make her notice me. So that the next time we meet. 'oh... You look familiar' then bum, numbers are exchanged easier. And my manly horny impatience doesn't look like a vulture.

I was in the library, but this is Nairobi Uni, not Strath, I could scream my heart out and no one will give a damn. So I tried to stretch a little more, yawn a little more, and when a class mate walked in, I said hi to them a little louder. Laughed even more louder. I wasn't sure she noticed, the beautiful lass I had my eyes on. She might have, but I had to be sure. You know men, impatient!

She sat next to a shelf, you know law books. They are perfect, big and heavy. I find them very useful, and that is why i was going to drop one accidentally. And what can I say, it's thickness was useful. Bum... As loud as an earth quake. Damsels eyes caught mine. My library session was over. 

I left.

The next time, She was in a crowd, three people around her. I can't remember what she was wearing, but I felt like I wanted her more. She looked absolutely lovely. I remember the guy in my shorts giving her a standing ovation. But she was in a crowd, with her friends, all strangers. It was a different day, not the day when I woke up feeling energetic and ready to take over the world. It wasn't a day when I was as brave enough to laugh in the library louder than usual, dropping books to get a damsels attention. 

It was a day when I was normal, not as fired up, a day when I appreciated that I maximized the days when I woke up fired, seized the moment dropping books, laughing obscenely loud in libraries, wearing perfume on my inner shorts, Not! Am a gentlemen. Come on! And that is why I dint just intrude her talking to her friends in her crowd. Gentleman.

But then, man is impatient, the moment I saw that quiet dude from my class walk towards her so that he was part of her crowd...

"hi..." I greeted everyone first. They really wanted to say 'huh?' instead of 'hi' but am sure when I stretched my hand slower, and held her hand a little longer as I shook it, they noticed why this guy (me) was saying hi to them. 

She was indifferent, but that wouldn't be accurate, she was joyful. She didn't smile, but we are now old enough people. We know body language. Come on! Am sure what was ringing in her mind was 'he looks familiar...'
I leave walking to random women and asking them for their numbers to creeps, and stokers. I contain my horny. 

Isn't that what confidence is? Containing thy horny?
So, yeah...

The next time we meet was in the corridor, she remembered my name. Yes. Yes! Yes! Yes!

I got her number.

There was a lot of texting. I love texting, isn't writing this texting in large scale?

We meet at least three times, at my place, but man, it took a lot of vibing. I had to notice everything awesome about her. I had to notice how flawless and creamy her skin was. How radiant she was. We went out a couple of times, think night clubs. And boy do I tell you, that girl has legs, have you ever heard me mention legs? No. Okay maybe I mentioned it on the post about 'when to open your legs' (which is sort of related to this one, bad decision)
Where was I, right, I never mention legs, except opening them, but this time i mention legs, and in particular the beauty of her legs. She had the loveliest brown legs. She wore short shorts to club, we drank together. 

I didnt take her home, I left her there. Did I tell you she had been at my place a couple. And yet, nothing. My impatience was growing exponentiously. Having her on my bed, and still she restricted the parts of her I could touch. There was something she said about boyfriend, or was it ex-boyfriend, one of the two. I wasn't listening much, just hearing. I was hungry. Which lecturer thinks anyone will listen to him after midday before people have eaten. Show me, show me then I show you someone not very sharp!

We had met quite sometime now, at least she ate me, let me stick her bosom. I can't remember whether she ate me up. I think she did a thorough one. Did I tell you this was a while ago. But even so much so, I remember she was quite the lass, beautiful, kind, nice to be around. Unfortunately patient, and I wanted to bang that impatiently.

Then it was my birthday, Oh how glad my ex didn't attend. Now she just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. 

But this girl, this damsel that constantly refused to let me bang her showed up. 

It was a pent house. Think master bedroom, other beds in other rooms. Think more than one balcony, big ones, enough to fit dining tables. Enough space to bang. A good one, even with all those large windows, ridiculously many shower heads, and waiters dotted around the rooms taking orders for drinks. She didn't want to shag.

I had asked no one to sleep on my bed, there were other beds, and if they were to many, cause we were quite the number, there was the pool side beds on the balcony. But you know parties. People sleep on your bed. Think black out.

We stole a blanket, the doors were all glass, so people could see us. We needed privacy, hence the blanket. 

"there are stars up there, we are tipsy, the music is on, we are at the roof top, people are having fun, screaming, having in the loos and showers, guys are swimming, some without costumes. All cameras were left at the doors, so no evidence. Let's bang!"

She wasn't convinced, the bloody weather convinced me even, it was awesome. It was warm, and man did the stars shine beautifully. But leave the stars alone, the mood. Oh the mood was exciting, energizing. Think swimming at night and screaming high.

She let her skirt up. We spooned like that. But she made sure my shorts were up. Birthday sex? No! Bummer! NkT!

I had fun, taking her into dropping my shorts, cause her panties were already dropped. We weren't interrupted at all. Except one of the chics I had banged before was leaving the party. It was morning-ish anyways. 
Oh she is dearing, she kissed me regardless of the girl I was sharing a blanket with. Happy Birthday right there!

She was in my house again. Shitting in my loo, drinking my wine, eating my food, causing me agony by looking absolutely sexy, grinding on me, but no screwing. Just having cake in my face, on my lips but not being let to eat it. Perfect, that's all I wanted. It was all so perfect dammit!

The window was open. She was on my bed. And for the first time, she let her panties drop. Really drop. She didn't hold my chest. When a dame holds your chest, while you are on her. Just get off before she has to ask you to Get the Fuck off!
Think barrier. 

This time she didn't hold my chest, she didnt. She held my back. Her legs wide and me in the middle. Think no barrier.

And this is the point a man gets patient and a woman impatient. 

I was in her.  Unknowingly, she was trying to conduct a choir with her hands on my back, trying to make me bang faster. Pump. Pump, pump! 

She was impatient. I was patient.

"Sweet heart... Leave me alone, I have waited for this long, don't disturb me, I will take my time to enjoy you..."

She laughed.

I Swear I Can Smell Your Perfume

I don't want to break,
But it's too late,
I let myself free,
To fall completely,
To fall for you completely,
So that I got all the fun and bliss,
And you were here on my bed,
You slept right here on the right side,
For almost a week,
You were here,
I never slept alone,
You sprayed perfume under the pillow,
And it is heavy on my nose,
It's intoxicating,
But I am not coughing,
Like intoxicating strong scents make you,
But my eyes are stinging with tears,
After a few sentences they flood my eyes,
Then they sink back in,
Then they flood out again,
Never falling,
Always balancing,
I am trying to balance this love,
I let myself fall for you completely,
But did I really let myself or it just happened?
Am I trying to say I let myself fall for you,
To try to make myself believe that it is in my control,
While it actually isn't,
I saw a note under the pillow,
I haven't opened it yet,
You said it was supposed to be a treasure hunt,
Like the one I made you on that first day,
I see the note under the pillow,
Another on my bed,
Another in the sitting room,
But I haven't opened any yet since you left,
If I open them what will be left?
What will be left of you if I read it?
They are the last memories of you,
So try to believe me when I tell you to give me sometime,
Before I start on the treasure hunt with all these notes,
You have hidden all around the house,
I will not use the microwave,
I understand your concern that I might burn the house,
Since you left a letter there,
But baby if it's not to eat I will not,
You have left,
But I can smell you,
The bed feels lonely without you,
I want to put this iPad on my bed side and turn to kiss you,
Not to write that I want to kiss you,
Or am kissing you,
I want to hold your face,
And watch it turn into laughter,
You know you talk with your eyes,
You show surprise absolutely lovely,
Your scent wafts all over this bed,
The fan is rotating,
So there are hints of your sent in the air,
Not a complete supply,
But an on off on off supply,
Like my heart beat,
That rhythm,
I miss you dear,
I could write for days,
Hoping I could miss you less,
So that I ran a little less crazy,
But I can't help it,
I miss you completely and thoroughly,
Am afraid I will get mad,
And start literally running towards you,
Forgetting I have things to do,
I let myself fall,
Or is it you swept me off my feet,
And do you know the worst part is,
I might just be imagining I am feeling your scent on my bed,
It might not be there,
I miss you so much it turns real,
Besides when I close my eyes I see your face perfectly,
Heck even when they are open and I am day dreaming,
I thought I loved other girls,
I thought I found them beautiful,
I felt like some were stollen away from me,
I felt like some I stole away,
I felt jealousy in me,
I felt some made bad decisions and now feel jealous,
But right now,
At this moment,
I feel like I don't give a fuck about any of them at all,
And that had been my greatest ruin,
I rather feel the scent of your perfume,
Whether it is hear or my heart misses you so much,
It imagines it,
I would rather not open this treasure hunt notes,
Just so that I can be surprised one day,
When I miss you more than I do today,
And I know I will miss you more than I do today,
Tomorrow,
And just before I ran mad,
I will open the letters and do the treasure hunt texting you,
And it will feel like you were here,
I will wear the bracelets you sent me,
And the ones we bought together,
Will never come off my wrist,
And the shirt you got me,
You have got me quite a number,
But the one we got together,
The pink polo one with tuxedo short collars,
That one has memories,
And you can be sure I will always over wear it,
once every week,
Cause I will feel like am with you on that day,
And when I wear it I will not even hug girls that day,
At least once every week,
Until we meet again...
I swear I feel your perfume deep on my pillow.

I Want To Be A Tuk Tuk Driver

"baby am having a block"
She is on my bed. My baby. It is morning. And the raising sun spreads it's golden rays so perfectly on her. And am jealous so I also spread my hands on her. The sun cannot have all the fun!

She knows what a block is, she knows it's when her favorite writer. Me, hehe. Can't write. I guess creativity is like a girl, you can't just force her to come. Talk about biology still calling the shots even after high school.

I handed her my iPad, to read what I had written. I force myself to write sometimes, even during a block. It was a schetch...

After she read it...

"Did you get what I am trying to say?"
I asked her.

Sometimes we really want to do something, I wanted to write something, but it was in my head. My heart... But getting it on paper. Bummer. Besides it was very early in the morning... And we can be lazy creatures sometimes.

"Babes, okay... Let me just tell you..."



There was this time I went to the CID headquarters. I needed my phone tracked, I had lost it during an Incident.

I meet this guy, he works there. He is quite the bustard. I gave him the numbers, you know Samsung Omnia and there trackers. He told me that in order to track it and find out who was with the stollen phone we had to send some money to the sim card. So that the recievers details show. Think registered sim cards. Think mpesa. That is what police investigations have come down to, mpesa.

We walked together, from the office to town. But you know me babes, I trust the police as much as I trust thieves. If I had a gun I wouldnt know who to shot down first, the police or the thieves. But why waste bullets on such scum? I would beat them up with the gun barrel cause if you ask me, they are usually the same. Thieves and the police.
Don't laugh babes, let me prove it.

So, the pretentious bustard, told me he had done criminology, and he hoped to join an NGO, they have better pay there. Frankly, I thought the bustard deserved to be a beggar, leave alone working for the police. You would have thought so to.

He flirted with the lady at mpesa counter, they laughed a bit as I waited there. As I waited for him to con me. He brought me some two half thought of names, on a bloody piece of paper, cut off a newspaper. And told me that those were the names of the two people who had my stollen phone.
I felt he should have a least written the names on a neat plain paper. It would have gone a long way in making him seem believable. But I guess that's what they are taught in police school, to flirt with women at the mpesa counter teller, only to later give people fake reports hand written on old newspaper papers.
Such good news for the tax payer, right?

Even you know it was an obvious lie babe, he must have pocketed the money. Cause months down the line. The bustard with his Criminology diploma still had nothing to show, how could he be working on it for six months?
I had given him everything, the phone numbers of the thieves, the model number for the phone... Heck, I was almost going to give him the color of their socks, all he had to do was track, catch and arrest.
Track, catch and arrest!
The police must have devices to track down thieves. And it can't be mpesa, cause I have access to mpesa, and if they don't have any other sophisticated gadgetry. Please, let the government give all citizens police uniforms. We are all police men.

If all it takes is to send money via mpesa to track down thieves. Why the hell do we pay tax? I can do the police work myself dammit.



"baby, please turn."
I preferred her lying on my chest. Her hand on it. I was talking looking at the ceiling, she listens. I know she was listening. I didn't have to look at her to know it. She is my baby. You know such things about your baby, anyways.



Babes, then there was this other time we were in Nyali. All good things come to an end. The party had come to an end, and it was time to go home. It was late. We were quite a number but still a small circle. The important thing though was that we couldn't fit in one cab, even if three people sat on top of each other, one on the roof and another sat with the driver.

So two tuk tuks were called. And they came.

We filled both and started on the road. By the way, those things don't have shocks. They are painful to the bum.

Being in a tuk tuk is like being in a convertible. Especially when you are in a crowd.

Faster, man faster. Overtake. Come on over take. We urged our driver.

He was soon smiling. We were throwing insults at the others. In the other tuk tuk. Trivial things like how our tuk tuk was faster than theirs. And their driver slower.

It was a tuk tuk race, yes babes it was ridiculous. Oh yes it was. It was completely fun. We screamed, cheered as we crossed the bridge late that night. Thats where we overtook them.
Beautiful lights from beach houses reflected on the ocean, and the breeze was as fresh as the sea. We felt it, didn't I tell you riding in a tuk tuk feels like riding in a convertible?

Everyone was dropped off. We hugged goodbye. We waved at each other.

I live the furthest. So I was left last with the driver.

I exchanged small talk with him, you only scream and race when you are a crowd. I wasnt screaming, but I was happy from the screaming, the driver on the other hand was chatty from the racing. We talked weather and Mombasa.

The reason why you would be on a tuk tuk on that street, is cause it is risky. Babe, can you imagine we found two chics, standing beside the road. Actually in the middle of the road where there was a street light. It was a one way. So it had that petition in the middle, and ofcourse the street light which they stood under, but it was still dark and scary.

The tuk tuk they were in had broken down. The driver was trying to fix it. Somewhere next to the exhaust pipe. Those automobiles are just ridiculous, come to think of it; I think their engines are actually there. Next to the exhaust fumes.

The driver asked whether we could stop. Help them.

Who am I to stop someone from doing a good deed? Who am I to kill ones philanthropic spirit? I was very much up for the idea of him helping them.

Turns out they would have spent the whole night there. He needed help. He didn't know what he was doing to that exhaust pipe, or engine or whatever tuk tuks run with. But when help came. His tuk tuk started immediately. And the girls were back inside. On there way home, safely.

I told him I appreciated people like him, good Samaritans like him. And when he charged me, I gave him triple what he charged me. And I particularly told him that I liked good people. People who change a corner of the world. Even if it is as small as being a good Samaritan on the road.

Who knows what would have happened on that street? To the driver and the girls? If it wasn't for him.

He was happy I tipped him as much. He knows I live to disprove the notion that dictates that 'every good deed does not go unpunished.'

Babes, am also trying to change the world. See that tree outside my window. I am going to go climb it. Pull off a branch and head to see that CID guy who wants to work at some NGO cause it pays better.

I will smack the conning out of him. I will blow punches at him until he developes a brain. Until he understands that, he doesn't deserve to be in that office. He probably earns more than the tuk tuk guy, he is more educated, he mention Criminology didn't he? The tuk tuk guy doesn't know rats ass about Criminology.

But he knows he can't leave two women on the road at a funny street. That's all the criminology he knows.

Babes, I might not have a gun, to fight the demons that roan the streets at night destroying peoples lives.

You might not have the courage to stop on the road at night like the tuk tuk guy to help someone stranded. Sometimes the devils of the night pretend to be damsels in distress, you know.

Every time I meet a coward. Societies scum bag, like that stupid cop. With the criminology degree that even makes him look stupider. I don't hesitate to let him know he is the devil. He is a sorry excuse for a human being. A disease. And if my baby would let me, I would climb that tree, cut off a branch. Walk into his office and beat his sorry ass. Oh I would love to see how surprised he would be! But I guess he has a gun, so...

But every time, I meet someone, braver than me, like the tuk tuk driver. I take my time and all that I have to represent humans, the world, in showing appreciation, in whatever form. Like giving him my whole wallet, and reminding him that I am giving him my wallet cause he is a good man. Remind him that, tell him exactly why you are being generous to him. So that he helps another two girls and a driver stranded on a funny street.

See I am not trying to change the whole world babe, I love obscenely sleek cars, big houses and travel. Baby, am just trying to change a corner of it. And the corner I change might just be throwing a little motivation at someone who is as brave as a tuk tuk guy. Or throwing a stone at that idiotic cop with his shh shhh-chupid Criminology Diploma.

Who else out there is trying to not let any good deed go punished? Who else out there in their quest for big cars, boats and personal chefs takes time to stop on the road of life and reward every good deed?

Brave. A hero. A shadow warrior; I want to be that tuk tuk driver sometimes.

The Price Of A Friend

If cars are nice, women nicer, willing women nicest, wine glasses awesome, cans of cold intoxication even more awesome...travel and fast cars and friends so awesome. If all these makes your favorite hobbies... Fast cars, men who race cars for fun, traveling, hot women, loud music...then there is no reason you wouldn't love the Rally.

Men come racing from all over the country, women to, some racing also, to watch the real racers race. These time they were racing just past Nakuru. I say Nakuru cause I don't know the name of the town passed it... It's out of town, in the wilderness, what would you expect? Do you know names of small towns? The one you are thinking about is a big town, that why you know it, unless you have lived in it.
'There she was, in one of the cars. I winked at her, I knew her. The guy she is normally with wasn't there. So I went up to her and said hi. The mood was high, so desires were high our moods were high...
She said 'yes' so we walked away from the crowd. Went to the nearby bush, cause we were in the wilderness. She lifted her skirt, I helped her lift it. I adjusted her undies and banged her till I turned into explosive milk. She let me burst it all in and pour in. She would take the pill. I don't know whether people saw. But when we came am sure people saw. Our senses were back. We had to head back.'

She is hot. She has breast as big as watermelons. But I can be sincere now can't I? They were good to look at, so big, very big, extremely big. But too overwhelming. They could cover my face, and your face too, combined. And we both don't even have big faces, now you will get a picture of how big they were.
She was light skinned, beautiful, that we can agree on. So beautiful the first time I saw her, in her black jacket top and her blue jeans. I desired her. She was seated on the back seat, I faced my rare side mirror to face her, not the rare mirror to see the cars behind and about to overtake. To see her. You know men, women come first, we could risk accidents for women, that's why I watched her as I drove.
You don't have to be a damsel in distress. Just being a woman will do, I was staring into the rare mirror instead of the windscreen, right? Thinking of rare things, the road ahead to her behind. Not the road ahead on my windscreen.

She was on my bed, but before getting on my bed we had done lawn tennis. She was thoroughly awful at it. I pretended to have lost my contact lenses so that she could touch my eye. Oh yes she did touch my eye.
We went for coffee, we went for shopping, I bought her things it was epic, especially when she was on my bed. She swore she wouldn't bend over for any man, let doggy happen. But more thoroughly she swore she wouldn't eat up a guy. Do they still make them like that?
In short, we banged, did a doggy in the car, untinted windows, on an empty football field.
She still says that was the best banging session she had had. And I thought taking her to Lamu, she would cum easier for me from there.
She said I had to deserve it for her to eat me up. Oh bloody hell, was it a give and take? If it was I want to be compensated for the dinners we went to. Not for the dinners, the embarrassment you caused me at those. You wearing that hideous white bra that popped out so loudly off your brown dress. You brown dress was awesome. But the white bra, a total embarrassment. I know at other places it's sexy, even I almost find it sexy at other places. But where I took you for dinner, Come on!

I remember when we had nyama at home. I was trying to be a man, we were with two boys, and one girl, two if you count yourself. All seated at my backyard, the sofas had been brought out. I tried to roast meat, but it didn't happen. And the people in the house noticed. So they brought chicken after chicken after chicken done over the oven. I put it on the barbecue grill even though it was ready, to pretend I was such a man. It worked, am convincing, am a lawyer.

"It's important we put it out on the grill to roast a bit more, you know the oven hasn't done quite a thorough job on it."
I used that folk-look-a-like utensil to turn it. Make the meat danced on the grill. That wasn't as true. I don't know jerk about nyama choma. When it is ready cooked. But what was true was that the guy across the table, the one about to fly out to finish architecture school had lions at his place. Yes, it is true, they rear lions. Land as big as that. Don't ask me how I know that, okay, ask me!
I went through his phone gallery, and I saw two lions. They were behind a chain link fence, the silver type that ran from the ground till heaven. First of all, chain link fence, the sorry asses from Kenya Wild life can't afford to fence like that. We all know where our tax goes, right? Even the Internet you are using to view this for is taxed, but no Government Official will let our tax go to fence lions with chain link fences from ground till heaven.
"where is this?"
"home!"
What the bloody hell? You keep lions at home? And they eat like a goat per day. And they need how many tracks of land? Now those are truly the kings of the jungle. Am not.

Not cause I live on large tracks of land. Cause no one respects my territory. And I am as territorial as Scuffy, my pet, I don't have a lion for a pet though.

We all got to know each other on my backyard. On the leather sofas we had put out so that we were comfortable roasting nyama. Or rather, pretending to roast. I introduced the lion-owning friend to the chic I was with, and everyone else. We were all friends now. A drink. Chicken being brought from the kitchen. There was nothing special about that. He said he would love to live there. Heck, I would love to live where I wake up to throw a ka-mbuzi to my pet lions. I guess, we take for granted all we have in wanting other things.

Lions are truly the kings of the jungle. I am not as strong as an elephant, or as tall as a giraffe, as fast as a cheetah. But I lie in the grass, not running around all over the place looking for a fight to survive. I lie in the grass, watching, thinking, choosing what fights to take up. And I have decided...
Lions are truly the kings of the jungle, but I guess am not a lion, no one respects my territory. Especially those in my pride.

The only way you can make things okay, is if you can turn back time, right back to when you were at the rally, untouch that girl, untouch her dammit, unscrew her, un-do the day I introduced you to her while she was in my arms. Drip out all the cum you poured in her. For heavens sake you should use rubber at least, who screws like that?
We all know I don't screw like that. I use rubber, it wasn't me she was with at that bloody bush. It was my friend. That lion-rearing twart. Screwed the girl I introduced him to, and I introduced her to him while she was on my arm.
Walk out of that bush, unseen. What the f*** were you thinking? You couldn't be seen, at the rally? Really? At the damn rally? That's my crowd you two little idiots. People saw, and my phone rang seize-lessly.

So I guess am not a lion anymore, no one respects my territory. I would understand if you weren't my friends. But you are in my pride right?

Away with fake friends! Away with you.

Men Cry?

I opened the door. It had been three months since I had been here. The air was so thick with dust, if I wore glasses I would just have to remove them every two seconds and wipe of the dust on them. I could smell the dust, but I could not see it. I should have covered my sofa when I left. But I was leaving my keys with her, granted she would take care of them.

She took care of most things, the floor sparkled like the teeth in a Colgate commercial, more accurately, the floor looked like a mirror. The house was spotless, I almost went blind with all that shine but I could smell dust, I couldn't see it, but I felt it thick in my nose, stupid nose! Why can't you just appreciate.

I found her things dotted around the house, girls are so typical. Her jeans mixed with mine, I felt invaded. I saw her hair band, the pink small ones at my reading lamp where I keep my paper pins, why do I have paper pins in my bedroom by the way?

The key holder to my keys had a green ball of mash. It wasn't a small doll. It was a green ball that almost turned black either out of dirt or design, either way, not a turn on.
I got it off my keys, like it was a spider on my back, if i was a girl i would have been jumping up and down screaming removing that key holder from my keys, like it was a spider. You would have done the same, that key holder knew no gender.
I wanted to throw it in the bin, though where it should be is the loo, flashed down, come to think of it it matches with the contents of a dirty loo, or was it design, either way it didn't turn me on. I wanted to throw it in the bin, but I had liked her before. I still like her, not love her though, so as bad and as disgusting as it was, sorry, the mash of green-looking-rotten ball, I couldn't find it in my stomach to throw it in the bin. I threw it under my trophy stand.

Clothes in my bag smelled fresh, what's with the nose again? Clothes I had left here didn't. It's like they rot or something? From not being worn often. Or is it that I smell nice, and when am away from them they smell like a break up?

My head phones were in my ears. They always are when I walk to the shop to buy bread. We meet there, she was being stubborn as usual. I asked her not to come, but there she was. I felt my face map anger, I gave her the keys.
"Go on go pick your things..."

I tried to walk as slow as possible, so that by the time I got there, she will have packed and left. Talk about ambition.

She was seated, comfortably like she always does. Can I blame her? She is the first girl that completely asked me to seat down watch the Telly as she cooked. I open for her doors more than gentlemen do. I remember that day like the day you first visited this blog.

She cleaned my dishes, she cooked the best food, all the time, most of the time, from liver to almost fish. And she was good, dammit, she was thoroughly good. You eat her food, you came.

"you haven't packed yet? Am busy you know that's why we weren't to meet today."
She went to the bathroom, and locked herself in it.

"dear, please stop, please get out."
I begged her, my heart went to her. I had left soaked clothes waiting for the house help to wash. And she had started to make noise with them.
She knows I will never let a girl wash clothes, never! What are washing machines for? And yet she was trying to wash. I felt my eyes burn with tears.

She really loved me, if she had gone to that extent to try to remedy everything, she really did. And what had I done to her, asked her to leave? I never gave her a relationship. That's mostly what she wanted, but we had fun, we ate, she ate me, we rode, soiled bedsheets. We talked, we laughed, she taught me how to dance, I dint learn. We had fun. Mad fun. And now I wanted her gone, out of the blue! After three months.
I have been heart broken, so many times, if a surgeon ripped me open.
 "where is this guys heart?"
"daktari, doc... I think it's that shapeless thing mashed on his ribs."
Then the nurse would point it like it was that key holder.

My heart has been broken to perfect shapelessness. I didn't want her to go through the same. It was loves fault, love is an ass, it chooses. But it didn't choose both of us, while she was so wonderful and sweet and caring and so loving if I had never saw myself in the mirror, and meet her. I would draw myself as a heart, then color it red like the love heart in Cards. She was so loving to me. She is so special to me, in spite of...

When she got out, she wiped her hands, with the pink towel, she has always used when she showered at my place. But that was three months ago. But still , it was the normal thing to do, we were that close.
She sat down, and I knelt down next to her, like she did when she did to me things that made me fall on the bed, willingly. Very willingly.

She saw the key holder she had got for me, on the floor. She picked it up and put it in her hand bag, I felt guilty. But how could I explain, that it was because I liked that's why it was on the floor and not the bin? That it belonged to the sewage but i still kept it thrown on the floor. Where is that English idiot that said Silence is Golden?

I was on my knees, on her thighs, holding her around her back, not to low to touch her ass, but high enough not to give her the impression I wanted to fall on my bed, willingly. Very willingly.

I was going to open my heart, take my time to make her feel right, cause she was right. I had to make her alright, and set things right, right?
Search for words, from my heart to say to her, more than I search for words for the Posts on this Blog, they had to be sincere, not sincere like the contents of this blog MIGHT be, but sincere like she was sincerely an awesome girl, but didn't believe it.

I told her she was a piece of work. A beautiful one. She cursed that she wished I hadn't been her first, that she finally gave it up after denying the world, and it was all for nothing. I saw it in her face, she was blank, she had come into terms accepting that that will always be, her story, people come and take and leave. She had accepted that, how could I live with myself? Had I caused her that much harm.

I felt something like a tear, roll down my face, but I couldn't tell for sure, cause I had the task to make things right.

I told her, that I was in fact glad she had lost it to me, cause I really cared for her. I helped her get her grades up, not that mine are that good. I was there when she fought with those at home, she was there when I got that dreaded phone call that scared me for life. She taught me what it felt like to have a girl, the whole works, in my life. Makes sure I eat... Realizes that when she leaves it is me that will do the dishes. If I had someone to do them everyday, then that is different. She cared, when she saw dirty dishes, she saw me having to clean after the mess. She sympathized with me, the fact that I live alone, she told me so. She still doesn't understand am a quite complicated guy, loving solitude. That I love papers so much, I talk to them, people think mad people talk to themselves, but when you talk to yourself with a pen, you are an artist, isn't that glorified madness?
She didn't realize I loved solitude, I loved papers so much I ate them in high school, until they told me they were bad for sperm. Papers, I love you, but...

Am glad you lost it to me, their is no one who cared for her more than I do. Heck, my pals kept telling me I had no obligation to protect her, take care of her, but what can I say, she was such a girl, she cooked.The man in me had to come out, when a woman is, a man becomes. You should have seen how I defended her in private conversations. If someone attacked us both with a gun, I would go before her, to take the bullet in case their is need, or be a man and snatch the gun from the attacker, wait... She feed me, as I watched Telly... I would be a bear take the gun, coil it and hand it back to the attacker.

Then go be her teddybear in bed. She left the bed made for me when she left, I don't give a rats ass about making my bed, but dammit!

She is probably more ambitious than I am, she promised me a walk-in wardrobe. She knows I have two wardrobes. My mother sent me one in a G4S lorry, for ten hours on the road. She knows what I like, and creates space for it.
She promised me a walk-in wardrobe, when she makes Boss, CEO  or turns into a Director. I asked her if we could share her driver. You know lawyers, good life. But CEOs better life. She laughed.

She will make it one day, she works her ass off nowadays. And has such direction. She knows what she wants, and is not afraid to go for it. She went for me, in spite of me.

Her face was warmer now, calmer, I slipped back between her thighs, still on my knees.

She leaned forward and mashed her boobs on my face. She was convinced, she had believed, like you have that I really cared for her.

But mostly we all have felt how different and awesome she is. I saw a blacker spot on her dress, a drop of wetness.

As I stood up, I felt my face, I had to feel it to be sure. I was sure now, I had dropped a tear on her dress.

The Post Before Reckless Car Racers

East west home is best,
This is home,
Almost poetry but not quite,
This other business of writing in paragraphs,
Absolutely tasking,
Needs some inspiration,
Like Afrojack and his friends in the background,
But poetry comes easy,
The lines oze out of me like love,
It's Sunday morning,
The weather is dull outside,
Music is loud in my ears,
My clean fresh Softener scented clothes,
Rest on my hammock waiting for me to fold them,
Rude shock on them,
I will just throw them in the wardrobe like they are,
As disorganized as the words in my head,
Beautiful story am about write about,
One with race cars and all,
Very clear in my head,
But putting them on paper,
Is turning out as disorganized as these clothes just about,
To land in the form they are where they should be,
The music in my ears is helping,
But today,
Black out,
Trying to force it so much will not help,
It's better to write sing or whatever,
When you are as emotional as Justine Timberlake,
With Cry Me a River,
Or Paramores,
With her broken but now mended band,
I have tried to force words onto paper,
But since 6 am and it's 8am?
It's a fun experience,
But 6am to 8am?
Time moves and when am doing something fun,
I can't notice,
We don't notice,
But 6am to 8am,
Two whole hours,
When am emotional rather abnormally happy,
Or thoroughly depressed,
These words are on paper in just less than microseconds,
Am done and no editing!
Especially when am happy,
Who cares... It's just a hobby,
Something I love doing,
The point is driven home most of the time right?
Or are you a grammar teacher?
Where is your red pen?
You want to mark on a computer screen and write,
10/10 Good Boy?
Most times when am depressed and words come out,
I give them to someone to edit them before I post them,
Mostly to fetch a compliment,
When you are unhappy you do something you are good at,
It's called fishing,
Fishing a compliment,
And just like that you have a better day,
Ten more lines before I end this,
And send it to some BlackBerry and get a compliment,
As I said this short sentences feel clean,
No paragraphs just poetry,
Pure emotion,
Got me kissed a billion times in high school,
My English teacher loved my compositions in primary school,
So much now I see why I had to write a composition everyday,
Apparently it was for his amusement,
But probably he made me good,
Practice makes perfect right?
I can't write paragraphs now,
I have written quite a number,
But I don't feel them,
You feel nice words when you pour them down,
I would write as i write,
Poetry and even in paragraphs,
With the same tone words and what not,
But what is the fun in that?
What the fun in my comfort zone?
I love adventure,
Trying new things,
It's good for my heart mind health and life,
If I leave this writing for newer writing,
Something new,
And it is not as exciting as this,
I will have this pieces to Remeber my old  voice by,
I would rather look for better,
And find worse,
Rather than seat here,
And get bored out of my mind,
Ignoring the better that is out there,
Let me travel,
Let me leave this,
I will remember my roots though,
Visit them once in a while,
But understand,
I got to see the world,
See other parts of my heart,
My mind and this pen,
Probably the arranging of the   unarranged  clothes on my hammock,
Will be the inspiration I need to arrange my words better,
Neat them together so that their like the dress I saw,
At some shop with nice fabric I am going to buy for my baby,
It's been two hours,
6am to 8am,
And the words I want to put down refuse to get pressed,
UnCreased out on this ironing stand,
Who am I to force inspiration,
No one forces art so much,
Only a little,
So freeze these thoughts,
'paragraphs about fearless car racers'
Let me get to other things,
I will be back here,
Home but not quite home,
Since home must always change,
Put some new carpet here and there,
Change the curtains here and there,
Brave something new like Hollywood,
Yet keep tradition and roots like the land rover defender 3,
I know this might be over ten lines since I mentioned about ending,
I might have added them,
But let's be sincere,
 I have actually multiplied the ten lines,
But it's better late than never,
But we are all here now,
At the end,
So why don't we let me send this as email,
To that BlackBerry I always send it to.
Bring on that compliment Sweetheart.
The End.
Its ended hasn't it?
Better late than never right?
Told ya!

Dear heaven...

Am here now,
Time is not on my side,
There are things to do,
I hope I will finish them on time,
Otherwise poverty will have my neck,
Not that I will not have,
I will have but I will not earn,
Thanks for making it so though,
My having and not having to have earned yet.
This is not why am here though,
Am here about other things,
But before I jump into those other things,
Forgive me and my family and friends,
Now that you have forgiven me,
I know you will listen better,
I am way far from perfect,
The last time I was in church was centuries ago,
But yesterday for some reason,
I started with a prayer jokingly,
My house looked like a pig sty,
I had had two house helps try fix it two days ago,
And it still smelled like dust,
Like filth,
That how I smell when I have been bad God,
You see it as that,
It's throughly unfortunate that I see it as Fun,
I don't know if I want that to stop,
But I am practicing honesty right here,
That should be food for a good relationship?
Do we have a good enough relationship by the way?
As I said,
I asked a girl to say a prayer for my day,
And at days end I had my house smelling nicer,
"...this place smells so dusty"
She understood how to fix it,
She even cooked and wiped the windows,
The House Help not the girl,
She knows how to use vinegar and softener on my clothes,
Dust my seats without a vacuum cleaner,
It didn't rain yesterday,
And my clothes enjoyed the sun bask till they were dry,
It has rained today and all the days before continuously,
I guess you blew the rain clouds away for me,
Cause she said a prayer for me,
Everything turned out wonderful for me,
Yesterday,
I bet you had missed me,
It was sort of a way of hugging me,
Since I can't see you,
Nice one!
Regardless,
After clothing me,
Feeding me,
Filling me with health,
Wealth,
And happiness,
You concluded my day by letting bad news happen,
I am not sure all this is thought up over stuff,
A pigment of my imagination,
But probably it's cause I am to blame for,
not paying attention to our relationship!
I know it's not a be good you be good relationship,
Or is it?
See, what I mean?
I haven't been talking to you so I wouldn't even know,
But I used to talk to you,
So I have an idea.
What with the bad news you let happen?
God,
What?
What's with that?
Anyways,
You ran the show so...
But let this prayer sweet talk you to making things right,
Besides,
We are friends.
Hugs?*
*hugs*
ahhh that felt nice!
Amen.

Heading Back From The Holidays

All good things must take a break,
And they have taken a break,
To pave way for other good things,
The good things I will miss,
At least the most,
Are the well ironed shirt,
Beatrice the house help does a wonderful job with those,
The shoes are always so well polished,
The sun feels jealous of their shine,
The shirts are so well ironed,
They almost have a spine of their own,
I don't still understand why she doesn't sieve my coffee,
When she pours it in a traveling cup,
Taking coffee with cream,
Not creamer creamer is as good as my girls kiss,
But cream cow cream is as yuck as periods,
Probably she intentionally doesn't sieve my coffee,
Somedays to get back at me for leaving my room too untidy,
She literally picks up after me,
When am home am a complete child,
I leave my shorts on my floor,
And I find them on the bed ironed and scented,
With cloth softener,
Even when they have blood from being the first in something,
She is able to remove the stain,
I sometimes feel embarrassed about it,
But she is the one who goes through my every detail,
Those are some of the things I will miss,
Throwing my clothes everywhere and finding them arranged,
Even the bed,
Shoes,
It's almost like magic,
And my breakfast served and put in the car,
Ready for me as I head to work,
Food served with lots of shiny cutlery,
Overwhelming in amount,
I carried some with me by the way,
Shhh don't tell anybody.
Sometimes she packed the tennis rackets with the squash ball,
Very upsetting,
Sometimes she throws the fuel receipts from the dash board,
Then my pops picks a bone with me,
Like he picked a bone with that receipt-not-giving guy at the petrol station,
Poor guy,
No bad cop good cop,
It was just bad cop and worse cop,
My folks are such a couple,
One time he told me car cups were switched,
He had my coffee and I had his tea,
My taste buds must be dead,
That's what I wish for my taste buds,
Death when my moms sandwiches end up in my car,
She likes cheese on sandwiches,
Can you imagine?
I prefer them on pizza,
Otherwise I could almost sh** with my mouth,
I will miss lunch,
With everyone I love,
I will miss fish fingers,
I will miss the sucking up from the waiters,
I will not miss their trying to get a tip out of me though,
Am heading back to the wild,
Holiday is over,
Where I have to make sure I have bread for breakfast,
And tomatoes to cook dinner with,
You very easily can sleep like a beggar,
So hungry you eat your text books pages,
Where I might just forget to go to the bank,
And get stranded,
Cause you need money to move,
That's what has come of capitalism,
Can you imagine,
Soon we will be buying good smells,
Wait a minute, we buy perfume don't we?
Those pricks, capitalist! Hehe,
But capitalism is good,
It allows you to work hard but especially smart,
So that the icecream you eat can be bigger,
And better presented with waffles in them even,
And sea food pizza is accessible,
To anyone willing to have it,
It's not tied down to bloodlines,
Am heading back from the holidays,
To where I make the rules,
But I don't like the rules so much,
I love home better,
The curtains are open for me,
I don't have to think about rent,
Independency or what not,
When I lose a sim card or a cufflink,
All I have to do is scream and it is found,
Am going to my home,
My other home away from home,
Where am supposed to build a home,
Sometimes I steal carpets and beddings from home,
And take to my home,
Stealing with my moms consent obviously,
So when you walk into my apartment and admire it,
Know it is coming from home,
But here if I scream my cufflinks are lost,
The neighbors will come to promise me they will call the cops,
If I don't stop all that racket,
Am going home,
But I don't want to call it home,
It feels like I am abandoning,
So let's just say I am heading to the second home,
Will be back to my first one when we break for holidays,
But its been a good holiday,
I wanted to bang a hot banker,
Ended up banging a doctor which is as good,
Heck I even feel in loved,
Travelled the most,
Bonded with those close to me,
Partied like an animal,
Drove like a slave,
That bloody driver should rot in hell,
My people are prayerful,
And we know God never leaves his own,
Let me cry a little bit,
He needs to hear our tears,
Heck I even picked brains from a hot shot lawyer,
A hot shot lawyer must have a hot shot mentor,
It's been a good holiday,
Home away from home,
Back to independency,
It has it's excitements and smile ignitors,
But the dependancy of home has the same,
Excitement and smile ignitors,
And more...
Am lucky to have both,
Its like having two wives and getting away with it,
But that is in bad taste,
Let's say it's like having your cake and eating it,
But that feels inadequate a statement,
Let's agree that having both,
Is so blissful,
I think it heaven,
And if heaven is supposed to be sweeter than this,
I am curious to see it more than anything else,
It is blissful.
Isn't it?

A Post About A Forbidden Apple

Red apples are forbidden, some are forbidden by virtue that they are still attached to the tree that bore them, still unripe, but they are ripe more than every other girl.

She makes her hair with honey, she never changes it, she only has it redone. It suits her more than an old Mercedes suits an aristocrat.

Her voice is accurate, precise, you would never miss a word she says, she speaks so articulately.

Her sense of humor is refined, effortless, mature, but young like she is. If jokes could be eaten, and she served them, you would be as fat as a pig.

 She sometimes wears dresses, the loose ones that run down low, but her ass is so big, it lifts the dress from behind into a mini skirt. Some girls can wear tight things to church and yet look decent, that is their structure, she cannot however, she would look too sexy. No man should sin right there in church, even just with their minds, leave alone with their biology.
However much she tries to conceal it, her silk dresses draw her better than a sharp pencil would, the dress sinks into her curves. Up and down her booty goes, dancing in her wonderful dresses, heels to arch her body, even you would be tempted beyond comprehension, boy or girl, you would stare, cause she is stared at that way.

She is a red apple, still not ready to fall off it's tree. I have been practicing self restrain, like Kenyan are trying to with regards to taking bribes, but failing miserably. Watching her from a distance, and not being able to have her, is like being at your honey moon for four days, and for the four days she is on her periods like a waterfall. Doing her would be exactly like swimming in blood. That hotel can kiss it's white bedsheets good bye!

I had to take her number, she is the kind of girl so forbidden I couldn't take her number publicly. We couldn't be seen talking together, or is it that people didn't care but I worried too much, that's what she always told me. Talking to her openly as the world watched was as suicidal as walking on broken glasses, just imagine i thought of walking on broken glasses!
Once or twice I hugged her, a quick one, hoping no one saw, that was when I felt as brave as a hard on. Most times I didn't and therefore gave her my hand to greet.
She smiled at me, she was excited to see me, she was excited to be seen by me, she knew she had power over me, women might be looking ahead as they walk, but the have paranoiac vision. They see everything around them, she saw me drool. And when I was too far, she just turned and look sideways, did I tell you women have paranoiac vision...

Redapple: Where are you.
me: having lunch with my friends
Red apple: am here too, am alone

She was alone, having lunch alone by the pool? I have always kept my distance.

Me: who is around there?
Red apple: no one I know

I waited a few minutes, cause I didn't want to be seen, my friends would have my kneck, if they knew I was going to see her. Terrorists would have plucked my balls with pliers if they knew I was with her. I would be in so much trouble if I was ever caught. But that day my moods were elated, when you feel excited it clouds your judgment, why do you think guys always try to make women laugh? Laughter elates moods, causes people to make bad decisions, even bad business decisions. I was making a bad decision, risking my life, I was walking to the pool area.

She was having stake, it was half eaten. She was alone, under the green umbrella Alvaro must have given it to the lodge. Her book rest on the table, yes it was a Sidney Sheldon. Now you can see how easily i was attracted, it was bordering on pathetic, I had to comment about it in the conversation we had. She looked wonderful, she wore white pants, tight ones, like a second skin on her skin, she formed a curve even as she sat down. I was so impressed, my eyes ate her. I bent over to hug her, she loved the way I smelled, her face almost elated. That caused me to be elated, and you know elated people make bad decision, I dare you catch me just after I have been complemented about my blog... Which is so often, hence my elated wildness.

It was a short conversation, it is a small town, people talk, her family is well known, I am sure people were watching. But we were both young, and most people around were way older, so naturally we could exchange small talk, but that all it could be, small talk. If it was longer, people might turn their conversation to us, and it might spill over to people who shouldn't know, and then I would be in trouble.

I left, at the right time, the stares were friendly, even the waiter who made fun at me didn't do it a lot that time, he felt like I was walking too close to the pool, at the edge. I could easily slip in and drown. He smiled at me though, probably acknowledging I handled it well.

I was back at my table, away from the girl. Close to my friends. Did I tell you I felt elated.

Me: sneak out of the gate we meet, in the car, kiss, no words, then come back.
Red apple: you are crazy. Okay, you will see me as I get out.

She walked, I didn't stare at her much this time, cause I knew I would soon be able to see her without hiding. There are beautiful people we gaze at, its allowed, no questions asked, but then there are also the beautiful ones that you have to hide to the whole world, the fact that you drool at them. They are forbidden.

I put the car keys in my pocket. They were on the table. If I left immediately, they would suspect, I wouldn't let them. So I made small talk, made them laugh until they forgot I had pocketed the keys.

I excused myself from the table like every man should, then went off in the direction of the Gentlemans room.

When they were not watching, I ducked to the exit. I got into the car, by that time I was sure she had walked quite a distance out of the gate, from the gate, no one would see. It was in town, a deserted spot. She had walked quite a bit, her texted said she had been waiting.

I reversed, drove off like a bullet, but not too much to cause attention, enough to be descreet  like old men who have reached the point of self actualization, but also fast enough to out race the clock. She had been waiting.

I saw her, in her brown velvet top, that fit her wonderfully. That contrasted perfectly with her white pants, so that it felt as perfect as a chopper. I felt like I was going to fly, with no runway like a chopper does. Having in mind all that she was, was dangling and crossing the road to see me.

I opened the door to the co-drivers side, let it a gar, cause I couldn't stretch anymore seated at the drivers side, and also cause even when you are about to do bad things, you should still be a gentleman and open doors for women.

She got in. I hugged her. Even before, our lips seized each others, even her door hadn't shut yet, even before she filled the chair, we had already kissed. She does fill the chair well that girl.

She was an active kisser, her hands went round my neck faster than my hands slid down her back and grabbed her seat. Her kiss was tasteless like water, quenched my thirst like water, you know water is life don't you? Her form was firmly in position, but loose in softness. Her breasts were full. And the brown, white, other colors I don't remember on her top made me feel like a rainbow when I touched them.

We laughed. I handed her chocolate. I had rushed to get her chocolate. Turns out she only takes white chocolate, but she hurriedly suggested she would keep it as a suvernier.
She touched my phone. Touched the dials on the Telly. She played with the seat belt. She was funny, confident, she was as curious as my mind, she explored with her eyes, I could see it, I complemented her. We weren't seen, the windows were as tinted as night. But even if we were, the people who might have seen her lacked authority, or magnitude to cause us a shred, even just a shred of worry.

She walked out, I saw her arose me, with her movement, like that of jelly, firm and in position, always in position yet still jiggly, more jiggly than your average girl.

We were heading back. I was heading back to my friends, she was heading back to her steak and her novel. She told me she was going to watch the game.

I had to take the roundabout, so I took time. Besides, I was still in a state of trance, after her magical full lips.

She smiled at me as I drove in, I smiled back. It turned me on that no one knew what we had been upto, even the guards at the entrance.

Sooner than later I was seated with my friends, sooner than later she was waving at them. She stretched her hand to greet all of them, I stretched my hand to shake hers too, so that it looked like I hadn't seen her that day. But she knew that hand she shook had just been shaking her breasts. Our hand shake was longer, more electrifying. But no one noticed, but us.

As she walked away, I wished my eyesight was paranoiac, I couldn't just have enough. Like hunger, when you eat good food until you are satisfied, you still become hungry. I was hungry for her. When my friends laughed at the conversation they were having I smiled, I wasn't with them in their jokes. I was with her lips, though she was away. I was hungry now more than ever.

Quick question, are divorced women fallen off from tress?

Are You Going To Get Stood Up Again?

Please do tell me what is more annoying than being given a date on 31st September? Anyone? No one? No one. Then let me tell you folks. Sitting in a crowded pizza joint alone for four straight hours waiting for your date is worse. You play with your phone, text, put up status update, you even start physically playing with your phone spinning it between your fingers, you walk lazily to the loo, order the sixth drink, alone.
after the one, two, three four...the fifth hour of sitting there looking like a leaper since everyone is in pairs or groups, your date calls, and you cant wait to show all those people around you you are worth it, your date calls and tells you she would be doing a no-show. Thats right, stand your ass up, go home!

That's what she did to me, who knows probably the humping she was getting with another man was too good for her to leave. Or she was too sweaty and drippy she dint want to shower. I didn't know what she was doing all that time I waited for her, you to wouldn't know, but one thing is for sure, traffic jam never lasts forever, if you were in traffic and you were headed to town, you will get to town, no one turns back and goes back home. Unless you are a warthog, how dare that animal stop and start eating grass while being chased by a lion? If I was a lion I wouldn't eat such an idiot animal, if you were a lion, you probably shouldn't too, who knows probably the meat has the idiot genes, and it might affect my stomach, and my enzymes might become such idiots they might forget to digest food in my stomach like a warthog forgets it's being chased. Let's not eat warthogs, okay?Agreed. Such stupidity is to profound, and conspicuous.

History repeats itself, women are the same right, people are the same. Here I was, waiting, this time at least I was in the car. It was just about to turn completely night, the time car jackers and thieves wake up to go bake cookies in white aprons. Yeah right, that's what they do, go baking cookies... They don't carry guns and wear black. They carry puns and cooking aprons!
It was at night, with this economy, car jackers must roam the streets, and there I was, in the car, waiting for pussy, waiting hours for a babe, all in the name of love. History does repeat itself. We never learn.

I think I even grew a beard seated there waiting for her. Five hours! I had promised her I would wait, and I intended to keep my word. But even more than keeping my word, she was beautiful, I mean the beauty that comes as a whole. She got enough on the rear for me to grab when I cum, she got such a nice bod, the kind that makes you not mind foreplay but actually look forward to it. Her voice would cause beautiful singing birds low self esteem, who knows they might join tweeter and follow self-help , try to get what is left of their esteem back. Yes, the sound of her talking is that good. She is the kind of girl you would wait for for seven years like that guy in the bible who waited for a girl for like fourteen years.

I could have left, but I didn't. She could have stayed home, not sneaked out but she didn't. Her father was home, if she got caught she would lose her car, her phone and her freedom. She was willing to take the risk. I wasn't willing for her to take that risk. If car jackers were to attack me, I was ready to negotiate with them, tell them I was to have sex that night, that I had to see her. We had to be together. But I hate car jackers, i wouldnt negotiate with them, if the police gave me a gun, I would run after them spending my own money. Oh I would throw money just to get rid of those scum bags. That is one thing i wouldn't mind getting poor doing. I waited for her, for almost five hours, that's almost a quarter a day you know, luckily she showed up while I was still safe. No bullets, no car jackers, just me safe.

Sometimes it is good to show emotion, I wasn't going to pretend I liked being left waiting for five hours, patience runs out like cum does, and when cum does reality checks in, and you feel sick of how desperate you were, who the bloody hell did you just bang?

 We were both excited about where we were heading to, even you would be, but I didn't want to show it. If I did wouldn't she treat me like a door mat, making me wait next time, I was going to let her feel what I felt by letting myself show what I felt. I dint hold back a frown. But her hand went around my arm, and stayed there, as I switched gears, what can I say, I really tried to hold back a smile, but I still cared and loved her so much. I guess that's why I still made sure she was wearing her seat belt. I cared for her.

We were two lovers, on the empty road, at almost midnight, driving to a place with a chimney, with a chimney that actually works, and is used. I was driving my baby, to a place, with a bed, curtains that run from ceiling to floor, floor that is made of proper wood and is dotted with mats, that runs up to the bath tub and is stared back by a mirror, a large mirror, so large you would see both yourselves making love in the shower. We were driving to a romantic place.

It was a private club, somewhere past Bruckenhurst but before Sigona Golf Club, or is it after, I don't know. I didn't care, all I cared about were her lips. I could try to stay angry at her, or even be angry at her, but what's the use of starting a battle you know you can't win? Cupid is a kid, but is very accurate with his love arrow, run and he will shoot your leg till you fall, or miss and shoot your ass, no one likes injections on the ass, I didn't want to be shot in the leg, I gave Cupid my chest, he shot it, I let love win. I couldn't remain angry at her.

It was a members only homely spot, it's structure was old but very well maintained, it felt like a castle, only the best for princesses, right? A homely spot lets it's employers sleep, like a fat cat in a rich accountants home, the lounge was not serving, the receptionist were not at work, but they had left their contact numbers with the two guards, the guards that fired up our chimney, and our evening, we even took a photo of them. Very jolly fellas.

It was cold, before the fire achieved it's maximum potential. It was cold when I spread her on the bed, then seized her lips with kisses that matched with the candle lit room. She melted. Like candle wax does. How couldn't she? She saw my eyes, in the dim lit wall-lighting that gave the place that elegance. My eyes said I love you, her lips saw those words, her ears ate them and her breath screamed them. It was as if we were competing with the fire, chimney fires take their time to light up, I took my time to light her up, and yes she lit up, fires throw out sparks, I could feel her sparks, I am still not sure if it was what happened between the sheets that heated up the room or it was the fire.

Did I tell you that place was as old as a castle, I bet that's why their mode of heating up water for the shower was slow, it required patience, like romance, it's all about the slowness of the kiss, the tenderness of the touch, just like the heating up of the water for the shower.
But sometimes, at times, things can get violent at romantic spots like that. Like the raging fires. the blossoming of flowers. the eruption of hot water from the shower head, and warmness from head, tip, the budging of my thing, her things and the exposion of them all, as the fire sparked to passion and romantic music. Magical...

We slept, we kissed, we loved, we switched on and off the lights, the bed lights, the bedside lamps, I switched off my eyes, before she did, she disturbed me a couple of times, jealous i was peacefully asleep, women, so typical. We slept in each others arms for the few moments we were together at that place with two seats, one red rose, in one vase, next to a fire place, no tv, just fire, and love, and everything else romantic, like love.

Morning came, their were packets of rubber all over, we really didn't sleep. If she fell down she would have gotten pregnant. Breakfast was delicious. Though we felt dangerously young, with all the old white couples around us. They truly know how to live, I would give them that.
I ate her toast and her swiss rolls, man was I hungry. She laughed. We sent messages as we unfolded napkins on the table. That place was so proper, if you talked, everyone heard. The sunlight hit the windows like the coffee hit my taste buds. I saw the glow on her face, she radiated like the sun, in fact I think the sun blushed, it was bliss. Why wouldn't she radiate like she was? I dont know how it happened, but she orgasmed that night so many times, she even wasn't coy about it. I guess it's cause I turned into an animal that night, oh she was so blissful and nice, beautifully aloof, I wanted her right there in front of all those proper people.

After breakfast, she told me she felt naked, she wore no undies, that over breakfast she had wondered the whole time whether people knew about her nakedness. It was ridiculous, she was completely dressed. I laughed a good one. She let my hand around my arm as we headed to the reception desk.

There was a bell, one like the ones in castles, on the desk, you press it, and the receptionist appears, like butlers do. She appeared, the receptionist, she looked at the way babes had held me, like I was such a man,  and she smiled. At that moment, i felt as if my dic was the world and other men's were a small  province. I did the manly thing manly dudes do, got out my wallet and signed some papers.

The old white guy standing next to us was very polite, he was reading a John Grisham novel, which had me wondering whether I should write a novel. Probably it was that that made me sign 'almost-a-lawyer' on the Occupation box on the papers.
It was babes who made small talk with him, I just laughed casually when I needed too. And I imagined, if she held my hand like that, when we went for parties, church or rhino-charge wouldnt she be speaking for both of us? And if I spoke with my hand rolled around by hers, wouldn't I be speaking for both of us? That old guy assumed she was speaking for both of us. I think he is part of the Dalamere family, though he tried to down play it a lot. Very polite dude.

"my wife loves pressing that bell" he said cheerfully.
She looked at me,
"babes, you like playing with that bell too."
She said to me. I just laughed.

Papers were signed. It was time to check out, mostly cause there were other people checking in. There was a golf tournament at the adjacent club, and other helpless romantics had booked the place for the next night.
Even though the cleaners were waiting outside, we still had to have another round. We defiled the bed a little more, and caused another rubber to find it's way onto the floor.

I used her shower gel, it's extracts are from tea, which I learnt doesn't go well with my hair, she called the Desk, had an iron box brought, and creased out my shirt as I took a shower.
 I carried her bag. We found the car covered with leafs from the tree above. I guess we were not the only ones who poured that night. Even the trees shed their leaves, like she got wet until it poured. It looked so beautiful, the car. We drove off, as the flowers, petals and leafs flew off the windscreen, the air is fresher there, the hills and the valleys are all covered in green plants. Smiles flew out of our faces.

I remembered the girl that made me wait, the girls that made me wait. Then did a no-show after five hours. I found a full-proof mechanism for them, incase they pull a no-show, from up their asses. As crude as it sounds it worked.
It was a send-to-many, the texts I sent dates. With three you can never go wrong, one for lunch, the other for coffee, and the last for dinner, if the first doesn't show, just tell the second to be a little early, if the second doesnt show, tell the third to change it to a lunch date rather than coffee. Once one saturday i banged three, and i was very sincere about it. Its either cause i have a way with words or am just lucky, i think am just lucky, or no one is that lucky? Can you keep a secret? Then, so can I.
This isn't boarding school, where if one isn't in the dorm, check the dinning hall, if not in the dinning hall check class, auditorium or library, this is real life, you don't know where she is, what she is doing as she stands you up. One date, two back ups. My ego stays with me. That was then.

Now it's one date, multiple orgasm, travel, out of town, sharing shower gel, and letting her drive when am tired. I left getting stood up to the single ones, and the one-date-two-back-up rule to those yet to find love. Love changes you.
Fall in love folks, fast, but even as you do, remember it's not going to be as epic as mine and babes... Cause I gave Cupid my chest, you showed him your ass! What do you expect? And your ass isn't that pretty anyways. Don't worry even mine isn't.

Smiles few off our faces, like the leafs and flowers flew off the windscreen, I was sure of our love. I could see it as clearly as the road ahead. And when I wondered whether she felt the same, she poured a kiss on my cheek, rolled her hand around mine and mashed it with her boobs. She was going to stay there no matter what gear I drove in.

I put in a faster gear and promised her Aberdare lodges next.