This is the latest installment of “Atypical Tuesday”; random stories that have become a regular feature because…well, you asked for it. Enjoy.
Last Tuesday morning, I reminisced on the nudist freedoms that Adam and Eve had enjoyed with envy as I got dressed for a series of big meetings. Vest, shirt, tie, sweater, slacks, socks, shoes, coat. Toothbrush, comb, cologne, nail cutter.
Clothed and groomed, I depart. As I exit the complex, a nice lady in a linen gown and petticoat asked me if I would be so kind to escort her offspring to his bus stop in town, seeing as she was ‘running late’. I didn’t think it responsible at all to let a child go to school alone, but I thought it even more irresponsible to entrust me with a mini-person. Oh well. How could I say no? Not only did she ask nicely, she also immediately ran back into the apartment where her half-naked significant other waved thanks at me as well before slamming the door.
I sized up the little twerp…
Squeek, squeek, indeed. So it was that we went on our merry way, irresponsible blogger and perceptive child. As he chatted away about his misadventures on the school football field and how Johnny used to steal his food, I drifted off and began assessing why everyone was dressed the way they were. We hopped into a bus and I took mental notes. ‘The young guy in the slightly oversized suit carrying a folder is heading for a job interview.’ ‘The lady in the business suit acting bourgeois in a matatu is probably a secretary with a fancy title like ‘Executive Assistant’ or ‘Administrative Aide’.’ And ‘The chick next to me is trying to get a
promotion raise.’ I knew this for two reasons; the first is because she told me. But even before that she showed me.
I mean, Jesus, they were on a mission, those things were. They either wanted to escape from her clothing or they were trying to consume her face. Or both. It was hard to tell which one until the wise yet verbiose child advised me.
That kid might as well have been 100% correct, but I was otherwise preoccupied. See, I was still trying to calculate if this broad would fall flat on her face as soon as she tried to stand up due to all that weight; and if she did, would she bounce right back up?
She did neither.
We got out at the same stop and I began to wish I had my own buxom buddies to flaunt whenever I needed to get free newspapers or a raise out of my boss.(There is a pun there, I promise.) But then again, poor lass probably couldn’t run to save her life. Those Triple-F funbags would slap her head sideways given half a jog. And alas, on a cold day, the girl would look like she was smuggling ripe melons and frigid raisins. I was neither a fan of being smothered while sprinting nor of looking like a petty fruit thief in the rain.
I ran through the usual suspects: Cellphone? It’s in my hand. Money? I never carry cash. I.D.? I never carry that. Keys? I have them all.
I patted my pockets down, adjusted my tie in a shop window and then continued walking as I went through a mental checklist. That didn’t really happen, to be honest, as my mind was clouded, with slight signs of showers.
I started backtracking. When’s the last time I saw him? Did he even get off the bus with me? I remembered him falling silent as I contemplated the physics of having jugs like that broad did, but little after that. Then I remembered why he fell silent. He did that thing where kids do where they fall asleep mid-sentence. Dammit. I began running towards the bus station. As I jogged, I realized it was a good day not to have breasts. Upon my arrival, I saw the kid standing next to 2 unsanitary, insane gentlemen. One was overly clothed, but severely dirty and so cock-eyed he didn’t have to turn his head while crossing the street; any street. The second was…well, naked. And they both stunk to high heaven. I mean, they smelled so bad, I could taste it(pause) and apparently the cop across the street could too.
Now, the two men were not strangers per se. If you walk around Town long enough, you’ll see them. One swears he used to work for the government before he went off his rocker and occasionally walks into City Hoppas to beg and makes a killing(monetarily, not literally). The other guy usually dwells on the University way Slip Road Tunnel at about 5am. He then makes his way into CBD fueled by the day’s delusion. Today, they seemed to be playing one of those pretend games where they were on a mission. The child was watching intently from inside the bus. I walked to the window and pulled him out (yeah, I know, not safe…but the alternative was walking in and then walking out and….yeah). Just as I put the child down, I found myself face to face with a bare chest.
And he said it as though I had just insulted his family by forgetting to zip up my pants. I walked away fumbling nervously, as the tall nude dude went back to playing with his friend. A naked, insane giant just called me out because my fly was open; I’m not sure there’s a worse way to start a day. I felt like so much less of a person. The child must have noticed and gave me a few gems of wisdom.
“Don’t worry, at least you just forgot to zip up…”
I decided to be diplomatic. “Yeah, but you know it’s not his fault he’s naked. Poverty plus mental instability can make people do things that don’t make sense.”
The kid retorted “But it makes sense what he’s doing.”
“Yeah. It’s not just him. Everybody wants to be naked. Mum, the chick on the bus, and even you with your open zipper.”
Your children know.
Be very afraid.