The Joneses

DAD, tell M to stop giving me pressure!

I was OK until I opened my eyes and mouth. The latter felt and smelt like I had been breeding hyenas in there…. and this guy, he kept trying to cut the hair on the back of my head with a meat cleaver.
I know my mouth moved, but I was so dehydrated my larynx was as flexible as MDF, and all that came out was a guttral sound, so I made gestures to the two ladies in my life, M & W to give me some space.

While undergoing the usual decontamination processes, hot and cold water; hot on the body and cold in the body; painkillers on an empty stomach, I tried to recall why I was in such a state.

Bob. (Obviously not his real name).

The images were flashing through my mind, akin to 24 where the screen is split into 4 only here I was present in each one of them, so they could not have been happening at the same time, finally I got the chronological order right.

It had started with Bob calling me on Friday just after lunch and asking me if I was able to “tee off” then. The closest I have come to playing golf is drinking Johnnie Walker (Mtembezi) which I understand sponsors golf… or sumthn. So teeing off in this case is having the first drink usually on Friday or Saturday.

So we meet at the usual (Brio’s) and Bob asks me why I did not show up at our mutual buddy’s (Jones) house warming party. Told him W had a birthday party, wife was busy, so did not do the bash.

Bob sighs and tells me I was lucky as that bash will be his undoing. He then goes silent, at least on the subject.

As various regulars come in to “tee off”; the difference here being like golf we all tee off at the same spot however in this case once you do, you hardly move; the discussion was the same as in most pubs. Politics, money…Football, cash…Women, chumes….Family/Kids, mullah.

Somewhere on the third half of Mtembezi, Bob goes… the bash was excellent, Jones has a great pad somewhere in the leafier suburbs of the city; he even has a thingira (gazebo type structure) somewhere on the compound where with time the age old separation came into play with the gents withdrawing outside to discuss matters of grave import (see above) and the ladies in the comfort of the living rooms discussing um.. God knows what.

The weather closed the bash early; it’s chilly in the leafy ‘burbs; and all was well for Bob until the next day.

Bob’s rib (wifey) asks “So you were in school with Jones?” Bob replies “Yup”,

Rib: “And you have known him all along, have you guys been close?”
Bob: “Yup…Yup” and he wonders what’s with this the line of questioning; ribs have no interest in their hubbies’ buddies except who to call when they (hubbies) go missing under circumstances mysterious or otherwise.
Rib: “So, what does he do?”
Bob: “Stuff…business”.

Rib understands that this line of questioning will not lead anywhere, however Bob understands the underlying question “So what is Jones doing that you are not?”.

Later that day Bob’s rib mentions that CMC has unleashed a new Polo and details the various features and “benefits” this car has. Bob is wondering “unleashed?” and has the girl been on the net… but he finally understands, and the next day while driving to work all the posters and billboards with words like “unsecured” and “100% finance” and “because we are you” seem burn his minds eye.

So… Bob tells me, I went to CMC and got the lady a red one, I can’t afford it but she seems to think I can. What could I do?

I shrug and look around, Wairimu is close bye so I gesture to her to bring along another half of Mtembezi.