She’d been in the toilet for three hours now. Three hours of horrifying, gut-wrenching, noises that came from the back of the house where Saika had disappeared since they got home. Georgy, thinking she’d gone to throw up, had gathered her things and gone in after her to help. But after hearing the door to the bathroom slam shut and the sound of the tap coming on under an empty bucket, she paused mid-step. Oh no. Oh, God.
Razor’s was pumping. Which was not to say that it wasn’t usually. But tonight seemed way too intense to pass off as a regular Saturday. The air was electric, the bitches eclectic, and in all likelihood, you could swipe alcohol from a table and nobody would look at you twice. Continue reading “Zookeepers Are Perverts – Allegedly.”
Continued from Sometimes it Is what you don’t have.
The car wended its way through the sand streaked tarmac road, Georgina let down the window. The humid wind felt good on her face. Mwanza was not as hot as the coast of Tanzania but being at the lakeside, it was not cool either. They were on their way to a traditional doctor, known for a detoxifying herb that cleaned out the colon. But Georgina and her sister, Saika, didn’t know that. Having visited these kinds of doctors from one end of the country to the other, they hadn’t bothered to find out specifics. They were all the same now.
There are days in life when you know exactly what’s going on, who’s where, and how everything will eventually turn out. Days when you’re at the top of your game. Days when you are nigh on clairvoyant(!), about everything that happens – you are prepared! Nothing gets past you. You are Bruce Lee and tasks are all those opponents who get their asses handed to them a beating a minute. You are a master of ‘Enter the Dragon, The Drunken Master, and Dude in a Ditch.’ And who doesn’t like days like these. When everything just seems to fall into place. What is effort at a time like this, do you even – I have never heard of such a thing. I was born this way. Continue reading “Inhale”
Standing there watching the brown water gush violently under the bridge, from which he was standing 30 meters away Jacob felt like crying. All that blood, and literal sweat, just to get stuck here? Oh for fuck’s sake.
A lot of things are opinion. Subjective. In this era, there has developed a line between facts and feelings that shouldn’t be there to start with. And that line’s gotten blurred and grey, so people don’t really differentiate anymore. I like to keep it real. Grey areas offend me. The fact is that feelings and opinions are like souls, everyone has them. But that doesn’t imply value. Or even validity. Mine might even count for less. But since this is the internet, and everyone has a free pass to spout out all the shit they can express in ones and zeros, here’s my load.