Fiction

THE EX-PRIEST

I was tipsy that night. Gyrating on the dance floor in a blue bodycon dress without a care in the world. The DJ’s playlist was on fire! It was like he had stolen it from my favorite YouTube playlist. The club was packed with revelers of all sorts. The glinting disco lights and the alcohol in my system made the mood perfect. The atmosphere reeked of sin, tantalizing sin. My girls, Tracy and Bernice had taken me to Marina Club to unwind and they were delighted to see me loosen up. They always thought that I was a tad too uptight and self-conscious for my age. You should have seen them, cheering me from their seats. One of the tables next to the dance floor hosted a middle aged Caucasian man who had his eyes on me. I noticed him because his gaze was oozing lust. I could feel his eyes undress me and for some weird reason I did not mind, I actually enjoyed it.

So I did what every temptress or wannabe temptress would do. I exaggerated my moves as I salaciously twirled my body to the rhythm from the DJ’s decks. I wanted him to want me bad. Plus it was just a night of fun, I had nothing to lose. At some point I made eye contact with him just to show him that he could look but he couldn’t touch. I wanted him to know that I had noticed him noticing me. However, I was rudely interrupted by some bloke who grabbed my waist from behind. Gone are the days when a man would kindly ask a lady for dance then when granted a chance, he would delicately hold her waist like it was some frangible piece of art as they danced while conversing about decent topics. Nowadays, you just shtukia a substantially inebriated brother man’s crotch is all over your ass! Attempts to resist his barbaric invasion gets you bent over like some flexible ruler! Enyewe, rest in peace chivalry! Rest in fucking peace!

Anyway where was I? The bloke who held my waist. I turned to see his face only to be met with a smile that was begging to have a dance. “Haidhuru.” I thought, so I continued to dance with him. Plus I wanted the white guy to see me dance with someone else….for some weird reason. I hear they call it the concept of, ‘Making Him Jealous.’ It’s funny how easily men get jealous! I have never understood these drunk meaningless bar fights that happen between men over a woman they both just met. It beats logic if you ask me! Anyhu, back to my self-imposed dance partner, to be honest I have never met a worse dancer in my life! Coordination, zero! Moves, zero! Hapana tambua! The guy had two left feet for days! And after some 5 minutes of awkward dancing, I threw in the towel! Issa wrap bruh! I stormed back to my seat amid convulsing laughter from my girlfriends. The guy could not bust a decent move, not even with a loaded gun pointed to his balls! He followed me begging for another chance but I have always believed that life too short to tolerate terrible dancing, don’t argue with my beliefs, take them as they are. I told him to leave me alone and he walked back to his boys on the table across.

“Today must be your lucky day” Hawk eyed Tracy opined. She had already noticed the Caucasian who had his eyes on me. Pointing at him, “Kuna sponyo pale anakudaiiiii mbaya!”

The girls rolled into laughter again. They always loved picking on me. I never understood why but Bernice always told me that she loved how I frowned. Such a sadist!

A few moments later, the waiter came balancing a tray loaded with additional rounds of the drinks we were having and said they were a gift from a secret admirer. Read the Caucasian. I wanted to decline the offer but my girls were quick to receive the gift.

“Take one for the team my dear!” Crazy Bernice told me as she reached out for her cocktail. Kenyans and freebies have a special relationship. Actually it’s an ordained marriage certified and blessed by the gods.

I turned to the secret admirer and he raised his drink and smiled at me. I sort of smiled back…awkwardly. He then sent the waiter to ask me if I could join his table. Me? Leave my girls? Wakanda nonsense is that? I always stick to my girls every time I go out so I declined. The waiter walked back to deliver my message to the admirer and he was sent back to me…..this time pleading. What is it with moneyed men? Kwani he could not walk to our table and tell me what he wanted to say? He just had to subject this poor waiter to such a thankless job? To tupa ngeli on his behalf? That is laziness! Sheer laziness! My girls are such traitors and Tracy was quick to tell the waiter that I had accepted the offer to join the admirers table. People ain’t loyal! Peer pressure my fren! So my girlfriends literally handed me over to the white dude! Like I was some weed blunt being handed over to the next person! So the waiter walked with me to the admirer’s table.

“You look so lovely! I am Greg from New York.“ He whispered to my ear after I took a seat.

“Thanks Greg.” I replied.

“What’s your name?”

“Rita (I lied), From Kenya”

“Such a lovely name Rita” He smiled

Isn’t it funny that every time you tell a guy who likes you, your name they reply with that cliché answer? Even if your name is Moculator Agwingi Piere Otar, they will still say the ‘lovely name’ nonsense. There was a thorny brief silence after he told me I had a lovely name so he quickly added:

“I see the liturgical dancer could not keep up with your killer moves! Huh?”

“Liturgical dancer?” I gasped

“Yes the guy who was dancing with you a few moments ago!”

That killed me! I roared into a long laugh. Did he just call my dance partner a liturgical dancer? Some people can throw shade and still be extremely hilarious! My ribs were hurting as I tried to restrain myself.

“You are mean!” I managed to say amid laughter

“Facts only!” he replied beaming with pride! He had made the ice queen laugh like she was high on some illegal substances. His ngeli was just getting started.

“So are you catholic?” I asked curiously

“Yes, I am actually a priest!

“Priest?” I was shocked.

“Sorry ex-priest!” He replied clearing his throat

I never take dudes I meet at the club seriously. Wait, is that why I have not met my husband yet? You know, the brother man could just be waiting to meet me at a club, sweep me off my feet and ask me to have his babies. But here I am looking for him in all the wrong places! I have always believed that the club is place you go to have fun, a place you go to unwind because it’s never that serious. But there was something interesting about this ex- priest in a club. Something that made me take him seriously….. I mean his story.

 

I wish I could put a ‘To Be Continued’ after the last full stop above lakini iyo ndio mwisho wa mawazo fam. See you next week. Here is a quote though (it has no relation to this copy), read in a heavy Kikuyu accent,

Na kama umesota pereka huko bere, eda ukaagukie hukooo! Juu watu wegine ukipiga search, unabaki umetoka ng’oo!

Padi Wubonn

Parody master

Have a week as lovely as your names. Stay warm and please check out the video to his road safety campaign parody ‘Mans Not Hot’  here. Kwanza that part he sings, “Sre queen na maborogam!” It will make your day, trust me.

 

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