My mind was nudged back to consciousness by Linkin Park’s “Meteora” .The heavy bass rhythm reverberating mercilessly in my cranium. Eyes closed I fumbled around on the nightstand for the remote and turned the damn stereo off. I shouldn’t have. The silence brought into very sharp focus just how badly my head was pounding! I knew right away that getting up would turn into a herculean task.
I plotted my awakening as though it were the landing of Normandy. But when my eyes flew open I was still haplessly unprepared .The light streaming into the room generated such a searing pain I thought someone had clobbered the back of my head. My tongue felt like sandpaper and my throat was so dry
I feared clearing it might start a fire in my esophagus. Waking the rest of my extremities proved just as tasking so I opted to roll out of bed and into the shower.
The hot water cascading down on me made me aware of several contusions all over but I winced and whimpered through it gamely. It seemed that each whinny brought with it a vague flashback. It was then that I realized there had been somebody in my bed the night before. The faint musk of Eros wafted up to me as I made my bed and I made a mental note to call Jesus (Speaking of which. Where was my cell phone?)
I glanced at my watch, grunted, surprised that it was still mid morning. I had aches and pains all over, my neck was useless, and my head just kept bobbing from side to side.
What I needed was an anesthetic! I stumbled out of my house and to the convenience store across the street. I was slugging down huge gulps of brandy leaning on an electricity post when Jesus and company came around the bend. They changed vector from the general directions of my house to where I was standing.
After a rather directly unflattering comparison of my appearance to excrement Jesus grabbed the bottle of brandy took a healthy swig of his own and passed on the bottle. With the niceties out of the way I turned my attention to more important things. Hiding the instantaneous effect that “The waddler” was having on me all over again. I remember a picture of a jack in the box fleeting through my numb mind.
I sank into a nearby chair on the veranda of “The supa” as we affectionately referred to the place. Stuck a cancer stick in my mouth and studiously light it averting my gaze to my bulging pants .AS they hovered above me I had a worms eye view from which to drink in her chocolaty plump grandeur. For a man whose “type” is Woman I was surprising myself quite a bit . I proffered her my cigarette. My hands were shaking so badly I might as well have been trying to extinguish it.
Two liters of brandy later we were all babbling along congenially like old friends. I of course was the butt of all manner of jokes. There was a five minute discussion on the feasibility of intravenous delivery of brandy and coke ,another five delved into the complexities of serving room temperature ice cubes. Through all this camaraderie I had n inkling what her name was though she had been regaled by Jesus on the parable of how I got my nickname.
When I finally got round to asking her name she obliged by picking my phone and programming her number then giving it back to me she told me input a name of my choosing . I typed I “Pukey” and showed it to her. Amidst bouts of giggles she told me that was her first encounter of puke at first sight! I need to describe those giggles. They were throaty, husky even but so very girly it was confusing! I changed the entry to “Giggles”
When a third bottle was purchased I threw in the towel and begged to leave citing a need for more solid nourishment and some shut eye. The truth of it was my condition had evolved from a serious case of blue gonads to purple ones! I inquired where the spirits would guide them from there and satisfied with the answer I made a quick gate away.
It was drizzling ever so slightly by the time I hit “Electric Avenue” in Westlands. Sufficiently rested, I had spanked the monkey satisfactorily too so I had a bit of a glow I guess. I was at an acceptable level of sobriety as I was swallowed into the smoky vortex that was Nairobi nightlife. Just as the first sweaty beer landed on my table my nose was assailed once more by an all to familiar presence. I got up to wave them to some free seats and got a full body hug instead felt like as schoolboy as I contorted my torso. Spanked monkey be damned!
I sat down hurriedly. I heard chivalry scream as I cast it out of the window.
With one effortless tug I was brought back to my feet and commandeered towards the dance floor. I floundered amidst the wave of humanity that came at me in waves and from all sides as I was dragged along .Bruised, battered and trod on, we eventually made it to the sanctuary of the dance floor . After what seemed to me a lifetime we made our way back to the table. The dance floor had been as hot as a hinge on the door of hell.
The next ten minutes was a shouted across-the –table discussion of how my “soldier” was always at attention! There was reference to dancing with a porcupine, a bruised diaphragm and an artificial dimple on one butt cheek.
Red faced I bought a round of drinks by way of apology and to see if I the cold frothy beer would put me at ease. Soon after though we left the club only to find a torrential downpour had replaced the early drizzle. We all made a mad dash to Jesus’ chariot and stumbled in drenched and giggling like a bunch of giddy schoolgirls.
First stop was the compulsory pornographic chicken then a few wrong turns later we got to the girls abode. As I turned toward her she said that magical sentence all men want to hear after a date before she eventually ruined it.
“Gosh am so wet! Would you guys like to come in for one last drink? I think I have some booze in the digs.”Jesus mumbled some excuse and turned the car around.
As we drove off I whipped out my cell and once more substituted “Giggles” with “The wet one.”