Anonymous Observer (Sequel)

I nearly got chocked by my drink when I heard his response

“No! I didn’t ask what u do, I asked how…” I stopped half way coz I figured my efforts would equal attempting to get water from a rock..
“What of you, what do u do?” JoBo asked.
“I am a social-psychologist”, I said.
“What is that”, he said.
“Its someone involved in the study and analysis of human behaviour and interaction both at the individual level and group level in different environs ….”

I paused for a moment for effect, to allow the poor fellow’s brain to take in the info, mathematically compute it and come up with an appropriate response…
But it seemed his brain jammed with the overload and he knowingly just nodded his head
“Oh! Now I get”
“No you don’t, Gorilla Unit wannabe” I thought to myself.

Sarrrrah who had been restless all this time, tagged JoBo’s jeans and told him that she hadn’t come here to stand around, but wanted to go and dance.

“Sorry man, chat with u later”. He mumbled as he was dragged like an ox to the fields.

“Break a leg”, I shouted back, raising my now third bottle up in salute.
Sad, didn’t get to thoroughly psycho-analyze the pair.

I decided to look for a high stool at the end of the bar, to give myself a better chance of escaping the lunacy around me, coz the crowd was swelling up. I made a bee line for one that had just been vacated right before a near by lady could sit on it. I beat her to the seat with only a tenth of a second to spare. It was so close that the lady didn’t notice I had already sat. So her soft cushy bottom ended up on my upper lap(it was a half second of total bliss).

She jerked up suddenly
“Ooops sorry, thought it had been vacated”, she said.
“Your powers of grammatical analysis impress me, miss.” I replied. “Hearing that u have used the past tense, as opposed to the present continuous. Which in this case would be, “I am sitting on this stool”?

“Waaaat--evaaaa!!!!!” She spat back-quite literally- with American ghetto-fabulous attitude. She emphasized it with well coordinated hand, finger, neck, head and eye movement.

“However I am gentleman enough to share my seat with you. Come and sit on my lap,I guarantee 100% comfiness. You would be the only person at the bar on a stool that has back support, leg support, arm support and any other “support you would fancy””
“You’re an effing cuss, you know that?”
“Born and bred, my dear. Born and bred” I snorted back
“Screw you”. She hissed back..
“Not here in the open public, perhaps maybe at your crib after the party”.
Miss ghetto fabulous had had enough of this self worshiping narcissist oaf, and ended our dialogue with a polite flip of the middle finger and waltz away.

It was just as well, coz the DJ had started to play my favourite contemporary music, which never fails to deliver me a height (won’t mention the genre of the music lest some of you start to think it cool to listen the same music that I do). I started to bob my head side to side feeling the bass and the beat.
As a matter of principle I don’t dance. Not even if it was meant to save my miserable soul. A great man once said,

“We gangsters we don’t dance, we boogie”
(The Dogfather, Snoop)

Well he never included us great men of the intelligentsia.

“We of the intelligentsia don’t dance, neither do we boogie, but we nod our big brains gently left to right, front to back”
(Njagala The great)
(For full effect, tilt the head slightly and have a smirk face to match the bashfulness)
Reason for this; is that we can’t afford to disturb the well organized sequence of nation building thoughts in our heads with excessive, uncoordinated and useless body movement, people call dance.
Should is say, its a form of self preservation, we endangered creatures have taken up.

As I neared brainwave ecstasy, some scruffy hands grabbed me.
“Guess what man”. Pierre shouted
“What’s with you, man? Don’t encroach on my space like that unannounced”. I grumbled back. “And no, I can’t guess whatever u want me to guess”
“She has promised me some, some”
“Who has promised whatever to whomever?”
“The girl whom I had gone to talk to”
“You mean the half drunk damsel of the UFASD that you abandoned me for, and left me with your weird pal JoBo and Sarrrrah?”
“She said I and her are on this weekend for a nookie.”
“Dude! She just said that to get you off her back. She won’t give you any some-some, not even in your wildest wet dreams”

………At this point the conversation took an adult drift which my mamma wont be proud to hear that I discussed on this forum, so…Peep! Peep! Peeeeeeeep!

In the meantime, the 7% alcoholic drink had started to kick in, and its supposed to make the story juicier. However, the flip side is that it made my memory quite hazy about what followed after.
Notwithstanding, I promise to fill you in as soon as I manage to siphon that night’s details from my brainiac black hole…for now…I go blank, and step back into the darkness from whence I came, and behold all of you simpletons as….
“THE ANONYMOUS OBSERVER”

Shalom, my dear Lovers&Haters.

Anonymous Observer (Part1)

Went for a friends b.d party the other day out of the sheer lack of better things to do and the tedious need to catch up with my old friends, foes and nemesis,and also to do what i do best,observe human behavior. I tried to camouflage into the surroundings by avoiding anything that would label me a tee totaler and so picked the next best thing,Smirnof Ice.

Partial reason for this,was that among the bums present were members of the soon to-be-famous United Front Against Soft Drinks(UFASD).A group of soon to be drankards, who push a swallow as if they were weaned on the most potent alcohol. UFASD, coming to a bar near you,remember to mention that u heard about them from me 1st...

Now where was i again,the party..yes..one of the reasons i hate parties is the small talk that at times comes with it. Am no fan of small talk,actually i hate the whole affair.Its as interesting as watching two flies mate;although i know some of my friends like Jason,Denis,Kahuma and the two Paulo's find it an interesting pass time,well i dont..

At this particular party my friend Pierre introduced me to some guy,whose name aint worth remembering;but since he is pivotal in the story,let me give him a name befitting his persona,let me call him John Bosco aka JoBo,and his galfriend Sarrrrrrah - thats how JoBo pronounced it in his thick Kinyakorrrrrre accent.
After the introduction, by my "introducter" friend he excused himself to go across the room to chat up some semi-drank damsel whom he hadnt seen in a long time and said owed him "some,some"(yet to figure out what that means).

This left the "introductees" in an akwardly loud akwardness,which was only broken by JoBo's unrhythmic heavy breathing, characteristic to someone who has got mucus stuffed inside their nostrils...Eeeeuuu! and the absurd noise from Sarrrrrah's futile attempts to sing along to Kanye's Heartless..(without being too harsh and with minimal detail);she dragged the song through Hell's musical gutters,and by the time it re-emerged from her mouth,it smelt like hippo excrement

.. ANYWAY...i decided to check out JoBo's outfit consisted of a variety of material's,namely; jean pants,jean jacket all iced up with a jean baseball cap-i never knew they even existed.And by the way he walked,i bet he had jean briefs underneath. Sarrrrrah on the other hand was a delightful spectacle of pink shoes,pink top and a pink skirt that wouldnt fit my 4 year old sister.you and i dont have to guess the colour of her undergarment.
I took one quick look at the pair and knew they would make a good case study for my study on human behavior. In an effort to break the silence i initiated conversation with JoBo,"How do u do?" JoBo replied,"I do BBA at MUBS....".....

..(At this juncture i got my confirmation that I had got another specimen for my study human behaviour) ..

TO BE CONTINUED...