Breaking Bad

I have never had the knack to break rules. But whenever I do, mother earth points her finger at me. I’ve even broken the rules of nature. To the best of my superb(pun intended) memory I think I hold the record of being suspended in air for..umm..umm..8 seconds or so. Thing is I was not bungee jumping, I didn’t have wings(though most people say am an angel..aww), I was not thrown out of a moving plane neither did I fall from a mango tree. It was that natural. The short flight was A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. The sudden stop at the end was traumatic. At that point I could have perfectly described myself as being down to earth. I don’t know. Thing is, I wanted to know how electricity looked like.


Enter scene: pair of scissors.



Main character: a ‘smart’ boy called Bildad



TAKE ONE: a freakin 8 second flight.



TAKETWO: nu’in..take one took me to places I have never been. The house lights went out, and so did the ones in my head. I can bet that, that stage in my life was where my head and ass were interchangeable. Fortunately the handle to the scissors was plastic. I know I’ve disappointed many, but I am not superman. Plastic saved my life.



The next time the guy between the ears malfunctioned was sometime this year. Not to mention, somewhere there in between I had probably received a respectable number of massive whooping, gotten into fights, and almost drowned in the shower..i’m kiddin on that, how lame could one get? But that’s another whole load of bollocks. So anyway thing is there is this particular event on which I was on the receiving end. Not to mention I was completely innocent. I was a school prefect. And a school strike happened. It was some sort of revolt against the administration’s highhandedness doesn’t take a genius (ahem..that would be me) to figure out that there was no way in heck I was gonna know.

Here I am changed into my PJ’s chatting up with guys in the dorm. Then that pre-encoded trigger in my cellular memory brought to my attention that I was presumably the only two legged homo sapien sapien in PJ’s.



It was only one window. And everyone was running amok chanting some circumcision songs..i think that’s what it was. Sounded like them famous bukusu RnB music which thay sing at around august. Stones were being pelted in every direction. I was not even sure who the enemy was. The watchmen had fled to seek refuge in a nearby catholic church. Soon gun shots were heard. Stupid Hollywood movies. they make gunshots sound so cool. I had to be told that it was the police, was that a gunshot?sounded more like the fart of a giant, say Goliath. Back to the story, before that I would like to thank all those who literally put their bodies in the line (read fence) to make an escape route on thet thorny fence. Actually they were pushed against their own will until the fence gave way. Honestly that was hilarious. I bet they had to pluck the thorns similar to a chicken being plucked feathers.



END OF PART ONE

modern family.

I woke up with a nudge that things are going to be different today. Not to say the least it took 10 minutes for my fears, or should I say vague hope, to be confirmed. First up my mum calls me nigga! You heard that right, she went like, “nigga go brush my shoes I’m leaving in 10” holy cow! Did I wake up in like 20B.C?? what happened to good mornings, not to say the least.. I thought slave days we’re over.


Not being too judgmental I find the traits from my father’s side of our family weird! Or rather it must have been a windy day when this apple fell from the tree. I think its totally cryptic trying to pin this one down. My folks have the habit of putting the fox in the henhouse and by this I mean they vainly try to attack you infront of the esteemed members of my opposite gender. Flashback to last sunday, i'm having my fun chatting up with a pal of mine while i'm seated in the car, until my 'male folk' arrives.
He starts cracking jokes, which by the way were not funny, while at his omniscent new character, i give him 'the look'. You know the look that suggests, listen here yo..its your car I respect that, but give a brutha some space..im a man now.And for my unsuccessful attempt I think i got the 'we'll have 'the talk' tonight' kinda look. Every teenager dreads the talk. I'm made to believe that there's a new twist..they dread the talker, not the talk. The talk is okay only if administerred by a party you'll see in the next ten decades. I'm not going anywhere particular with this story, so please don't wait for the tipping point, it won't come.


                             Sorry for that while, i had just been called to pull over the stool for my perfectly young mother who was just ten feet away. And where was I, In my room, far upstairs. Infact i cant wait to get kid's of my own. The only thing that will lift my lazy posterior is 'the talk' with my doctor. Now this talks don't seem to go away eh?