Freddie’s Viagra woes

There is something about life and coincidences that I have never quite understood. Or is it just me?

Like when I forget to carry my handkerchief is when my nose experiences an El Nino. Or worse when I forget to carry a piece of tissue paper with me. When I am badly dressed is when I bump into one of my hotter crushes (every so often). When I am broke is when the women, whose company I hanker after all the time are willing to show up. Probably, because the better loaded men are busy fueling the fantasies of other women of their ilk.

I don’t know, but these things are invariably ill-timed. Like this Valentine evening, we standing outside Ambassadeur Hotel with Freddie, my randy cousin. His would have been date just declined to give IT up and he had taken a vitality drink and it was beginning to take its toll on him. We were weighing our options. A really embarrassing emergency. Then guess who taps my shoulder?

Our Aunt Margret. Aunt Margret is always trouble walking on two feet. For starters, she talks in that eerily, sharp and cacophonous sound typical of my tribe. Second she never attended any summary class, so you cannot dismiss her like we do it in Nairobi to other relatives. And like the name suggests, she is respectable and I knew we were in for a million questions, given that I have never her visited since last Easter.

“Gisiora!?” she shouted my name, her right hand on her waist followed by a long tirade in mother tongue. It took about one and half minutes but within that time frame she had asked me the following questions…
“How have you been?”
“Fine,” I answered.
“Why have you never come to visit and see how your cousins are holding up?”
“I have been quite busy, but I sure should find time this weekend.”
“That is what you always say?”
“Believe you me that I am always held up, including all weekends.”
“But you do find time  to call on Andrew (her son) to go and watch football?” She asked.
“But football is something else, mum,” I always refer to her as mum to flatter her.
“So football is more important than me?” OK, my ex-girlfriend used to ask me that a lot. The answer is always yes at the time when the match is being played but I can’t tell her that.

Then she turned to Freddie who was standing there, nervously and unusually quiet. I suppose the boner was by now hurting and Freddie was hoping that I would be brief and save him his predicament. But it was my moment of schadenfreude (German for enjoying while your friend or enemy is suffering).

Look how funny it is, here we are amidst a tirade from one of our favourite aunts, whom we couldn’t just dismiss and Freddie is as horny as hell. And he is about to take no less than 21 questions from aunt. Freddie’s body language is not inviting-literally.

I had to intervene, lest blood ruptures Freddie’s Weenie to death.

I told aunt, “Freddie is actually sick and we trying to find some medicine…”

“Oooh,” putting both a maternal and matrimonial tone on, “Oooh, my son, what is it that is ailing, you look terrible.”

“He took Viagra and the woman rejected and now we have to find a woman to cool him down.” If I said this I would have made things easier. I actually wanted to say that for experimental purposes. But I thought twice about it.

She picked her phone and started dialing and spoke to a tax man to come and collect us. Freddie instructed me with sharp eyes to get rid of her immediately.

“Actually, he has a 10.30pm flight  and we must leave town right now. We just want to pick up some drugs and leave town…”

“But he is sick, he should cancel the flight. We can pay for another one tomorrow, if he fairs better.”

“He has to go.” I insisted.

“Why the hurry, Kisumu is just here?” She was feeling offended by us refusing her offer.

Freddie gave me sharper eyes telling me to be more ruthless in my dismissal and I had to heed.

I just told her that he is rushing for business and he has to go. She took offense and mumbled something to the effect that we are not the sons who shit she cleaned when we were young. Thanks to her. But auntie had to know that there are times that men have to do what they have to do… She had further questions on marriage and kids and I instructed her to kill a cock that weekend I assured her I will turn up with someone and excused ourselves. I hate parting with a woman dissatisfied, in whichever way.

So, we moved down a little bit and Freddie asked me where to get some really quick sex. I suggested he tries one of his many concubines. He took his phone and scrolled and started making calls.
Girl No. 1:

She was in Rongai…OK that one won’t make it in time considering that she must get a Visa, have a yellow fever vaccination and other immigration problems before making it to Nairobi.

Girl No.2:

Mteja. All her phone lines…It is Valentine’s Day, wherever she was, you guess is as good as mine.

Girl No.3:

She must have started with a quarrel about not being taken out and being called too late in the day. I heard Freddie try pulling some charm but it was not working. Next I had him smack so hard that someone in Upper Hill would have heard it. He was getting irritated and the boner kept hardening. I liked the tension. He turned to me, ‘Any options?’ more like command in a movie scene where I am the pimp and he is the boss.

We were actually standing outside Sabina Joy. I proposed that he can try, granted I held every valuable with me and he goes in with only the necessary cash. But Freddie is always cautious with prostitutes (as if it makes much difference from the next girl on the street). He asked me what I know about them and I told him that they are very brief in timing they make you come in less than 5 minutes, so you cannot fulfill all the desires of Viagra. OK that is from anecdotes.

Freddie thought for about 17 seconds and sighed.
It is extremely fantastic seeing Freddie suffer with all his money and women.
“What is the longest duration it can take?” he asked sounding like the most desperate man on earth.
“For as long as you can afford. Alternatively, you can try Luthuli Avenue. It is cheaper but riskier as well in every sense of that word. Or try Dodiz….”

He handed me his phone and wallet. He took Ksh 4,500 and gave me his worldly belongings and disappeared…