Of stolen newspaper articles and short fat men

Of stolen newspaper articles and the folly of hitting on a woman in a company of a man

This past Friday at exactly 4.47 pm, I was raving mad. I was furious. My writing had hit the lowest possible. The worst possible nightmare a writer can meet, when not being published.

See, if a fellow writer or journalist beats you to an idea, you can only bite your lower lip and curse your lazy ass. If you submit a story and some lazy bum somewhere picks the idea and distorts it suitably that you cannot claim any ownership, you can only up hating on the editor you sent your work to and the unprofessional journalist.

But if you submit your story and it is sat on for more than two months only for it to be run under someone’s byline, you have the right to write bad stuff about guys. So, when a reputable entertainment magazine pulled this shocker on me, giving one of my better written pieces to a lady, I sort of wanted to ring the editor I had mailed the article and give a piece of my mind. The case is still on.

Ironically, the story, I had written nearly got me admitted in hospital in the worst ironic twist that not even the best in Hollywood can conjure up.

See, there is this small habit that we have of meeting young women and flattering them without caring in whose company they are. After, the annoying newspaper incident, I had to report to PO to work on the best way forward.

At exactly 7.31pm, I show up in his room and I found him doing something suspicious. It could be Yoga or some traditional rite. After the usual chit-chat and him expressing his displeasure of encountering my article under someone’s byline in the leading media house that purports highest professional competence, we decide to go for supper at Student Centre. And here, one of us nearly loses his life…

Thank goodness we have the student centre back. Though, it is meant to starve us off, it saves us the hustle and bustle of cooking and readily prepares us for the bachelor days ahead. Student Center or Senses as we fondly refer to it is an upward cafeteria that sells better food than the normal Kitchens in the University. It is not any better but it is slightly different.

We saunter in. We both tall and have that misguided feeling that we are fourth years and above the law. The first thing we do when we go in is run our eyes wildly to see if there is any beautiful woman in the vicinity. Ever since, Senses reopened, it seems to be attracting only male students and pretty boring female students from the only female hostel around here-Hall 4 where medics and Science inclined courses are hosted.
However, in some corner is a man in his early 30s seated with a young lady who must have been born when the man was through with High School. You do the Math, as I get on with the writing. You could see the effects of generational gap.

The man wore that face of a man who has been denied access to sex even after spending a dime. The chick wore that wry smile of a woman when she says NO. She seems to have lied about periods, sickness or any sexual delaying tactics that the young ladies keep on coming up with nowadays. The man seems to have run out of content and possibly plotting where he can get a woman to sleep with for the night. His mind seems to have been set on some good lay like that.

As we stand in the line, the young chick is sent for something and she queues behind us.
She is pretty. OK! Some definitions here are in order.

Pretty: She has an attractive face.It could be out of make up or well up bringing. High likelihood of a fundamental flaw, such us a flat chest.
Cute: Should specifically refer to inanimate objects or pets. We have cute dogs or cats. If someone refers to a chick as cute, then, they don’t mean it.
Beautiful: It is natural. Everyone agrees to it. It is standard. No fundamental flaws. While at it, check on Toni Braxton….

So our subject here was pretty, a not so well formed body that tells you from which part of Kenya she comes from. But there is subtle promise of hips and good height going for her. Her complexion is that of dark chocolate or some desert honey; sensuous and sweet. Actually, one would be tempted to lick her on the neck to confirm if she doesn’t taste sweet literary…There is a naive uncertainty about her. It could be her partner tonight in the presence of the many young boys, possibly her peers or even class mates.

So PO pulls his most hideous grin, nay, monstrous is much like it and stares up at her. She smiles back, I can’t tell whether it is out human courtesy or out of amusement. The grin somewhat resembles the upheld nostrils of a black bull against the hind of the cow, testing if the cow is on heat…

“Hey, Hello,” mumbles PO and it is evident that there is every sinister motive.
“Fine,” She replies in a comradely way.

The boy friend (let us just call him the manfriend) looks at us suspiciously but possibly dismisses our attack as mere play or just class mates.

“Is he interesting?”, PO asks rather curtly…
“Well…he…”She doesn’t finish. She didn’t expect the question and quite obviously the man is not funny. She seems to have been attracted to the flashy things the man could be flashing. It is conventional wisdom that one of the 37 characteristics that women share with fish is that they are both attracted to flashy things.
“If he was to be an animal…”PO starts but thinks better of it but the humuor is lost on the chick.
I warn PO, that it might turn out that the man works in the military and he might pluck his ugly nose. He might be one of those nasty men that when he picks a fight with you guys plead with him from a distance to leave you alone. PO wanted to persist but the chick denied him further audience, quite justifiably. I think so.

We buy our bad food and move to a table in the far off corner. As I sit down, I can see from where the chick went to sit, pointing our direction and there is something ominous about it. In less than two minutes, the man stands up and walks towards our direction, quickly and confidently.

I cut short what I was telling PO, to announce the imminent danger. PO on the surface is normally the most confident thing I know but subjected to real danger, he is chicken piss. He begins to sweat but cuts that confident look.

The man, he is short and fat (Hell! How I hate and despise short men) with the possible exception of Bony. He seems enraged. Badly. Eyes are blood shot and he seems all too ready spoilt for a war.

He gets to our table:
“Wassup?” He says looking my direction.
“Fine,” I say as PO mumbles along. Boy he looks grave and at this point he seems ready to hit some hard. I mean really hard.

“Is there a problem between you and me?” He asks me, while PO is watching.
I want to own up that it was PO, but that will be unmanly. I keep quiet. My senses acutely aware, should he dare try something stupid. Silently, I’m daring him.

A moment elapses, before PO says, “It was me who spoke to her,”

“Ohh, I thought it was this one, you see he has that guilty face,” he attempts to be humorous and this somehow disarms him.

“What is the problem with?” He asks quite patronizingly…

PO starts stuttering… “It was just a small banter…you see,”

“But then why call me an animal,” He raises his voice. I stare at any movable and portable device in the vicinity and a possible exit route.

He warns us and walks out with the chick. The girl smiles rather sheepishly to us. She seems the type that I can go out if I meet soon.

So I ask PO, what made him act too fast.
“There are some debts that might be impossible to settle. Like if I have you lose six teeth…”Ha ha ha.

A man in a company of a woman is the last you want to rub the wrong way. If he fights you and the woman cheering, you will be battered, beaten, smitten, ran over, smashed and all that. Nothing like the nuanced motivation of a woman, especially if the reward at the end of the evening is her sleeping facing the ceiling.

I’m the living testimony. I once abused a cop and his girlfriend at KBC, where we were getting smashed and I nearly lost my eye. The short, burlesque, ill tempered burger nearly brought me down. To be honest, I wet myself. It wasn’t funny. Quite annoyingly is the way the woman pleading with them to forgive me.

I apologized profusely but my drunken (sic) fell on deaf or is it stupid ears.
I hate the fact that even after putting my case clear that whatever I did was under the influence they could hear nothing of it. Simply because some pretty 30 something woman was in the vicinity…nkt.

So PO, next time you see a man, especially a short man in the company of a beautiful woman, keep off.

The man possibly must have read my stolen articles that encouraged men to step up to a fight whenever and wherever their women are  wronged. Too bad that I could have been on the receiving end…

2 thoughts on “Of stolen newspaper articles and short fat men

  1. Wee, I’m not short! I’m just closer to the ground than other people. But coming from someone who is ‘long’ as opposed to tall, i’ll take that as a compliment. I wish I was there when that dude was about to kick your a**es. I would have picked a spot on the side and bought popcorn to witness as it all unfolded…hehe.

  2. hahhahahhaahahaa….you pee’d yourself? hahhahaa that part was just too funny, alcohol or not…
    well, just as we all know never to mess with a woman scorned, never belittle (pun intended) a man in front of his woman, tall or short as he may be.
    i like your writings though, keep up.

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