Friday, May 05, 2006

My Hero Dennis Part II

When we got to the gas station, there was D’s ride chilling on the forecourt, gleaming from a quickie wash job. We rolled up to it and that’s when we saw it. The Kid had bashed the back left-hand lights; properly enough to leave a hole in the glass. And for good measure there was a huge dent in the fender just below the lights. Then we all got out of Phil’s car and started making collective estimations of damage n the way that only men can, “this isn’t so bad, a little ironing and it’ll be kawa” privately thinking, “u unlucky sod, better you than me!”. The kid on the other hand was alternately sidling up to D spewing profuse apologies while making sure he stayed just out of reach – the mood D was in, he’d have shredded that kid with one swipe of his retractable claws, just like Wolverine.

But no, D would never take up physical violence against another man; he much prefers to use the power of his tongue. And what a tongue. That boy could talk the fat out of a sheep’s tail if he was pissed enough. All he asked of the kid was to stay away from him………………………………far far away. The other car, the one the Kid has backed into, a Toyota Kabina, was not as badly damaged as D’s. Only a broken taillight. Something you can get fixed in Kisekka market. Funny that, the Mitts was more damaged than the Kabina; here I was thinking that Mitsu’s are “harder” than Toyotas. I guess not. Naturally D did the right thing and asked for the other guy’s phone number from the attendant at the requisite convenience store. She gave it over, we called and the dude’s phone was off, just like that. Bloody inconsiderate of him I think.

Kale, solutions, solutions – either be a part of the solution or bugger off to Siberia.
No. 1; give business card to convenience store attendant, explicitly instruct her to have the other guy call D as soon as he gets here, we will pay for him to get his ride fixed.
No. 2; attempt to start own car. Wont start. Naturally. Aaaaarrrrggghhhhhh!!! 19 year old kid, stop blithering and get lost before I have you arrested or something.
No. 3; get Phil to turn round, open boot, get jump cables and attempt to jumpstart own car. Fail at first attempt. Disconnect cables and try again, with cable leads on terminal heads. Engine roars into life, all 2500 cc of it, sigh, music to the ears that sound.
No. 4; replace jump cables in the boot, close the bonnet and lower oneself into the comfort of the drivers seat. At which point all hell broke loose.
The lone security guard from above described low budget security firm came alive. He grabbed the car door as D went to close it and proclaimed, in his most threatening voice, that the car was going no where. I was stunned at the impudence of the man! Going no where, who did he think he was, Interpol? D was in shock that the guy had touched his car! His first reaction was to instruct, explicitly, that the guy separate his hand from the paint of his car. Did he, you ask? Did he! Mmph. He jerked the door a few times and not so subtly swung his rather long rifle off his shoulder. We didn’t see that. Not until the replay 30 minutes later

What we did instead was D got out and in his face asked the guard, “How dare you touch my car? Get your mitts off my car you ignoramus crossbreed of an ass and a yak!” - My emphasis.
Obviously not used to people shorter than him (moreover wearing shorts, white socks & even whiter trainers – I told him, man you cant go out looking like that but would he listen?) getting up in his space and asking him to back off, the guard did about the dumbest thing he could have done then. He cocked his gun. Aha, yes he did.

Instantly I thought, “Great! He’s going to shoot D then we’ll beat him up after he’s overcome by the enormity of his f..kup” D, he actually chuckled and … wait for it… asked … “how dare you cock your gun at me? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” I don’t know who was more surprised, the guard, the kid (who’d mercifully gone silent) or myself. Yes D, who are you? I have never seen your ass this riled! Dude how long since you last got laid? He then proceeded to give the guard a verbal dressing down the likes of which I have not heard in a really long time, think back to…long long ago. Something like;

“Do you know who I am? What’s your name? What company do you work for? I am going to ensure that you never work with a gun again. You will never ever work in this town again! How dare you cock a gun at me? Do you have any idea how much you have messed up? What’s this guy’s name? I want his official number and the name of his company. I am going to get him arrested and have him spend a long time in jail. How old are you? 25? You silly boy! You will be sorry that you ever cocked a gun at me. Do you have nay idea how many guns I’ve seen? You think I’d be scared by an AK47? A miserable AK47? Dude, do you know what an Uzi is? Ok, D, you might want to slow your roll right there, you about to share something we all don’t need to be hearing.

By now the entire gas station forecourt is listening in rapt admiration/fear. Dude, they were so frozen I could have walked into the store and made off with a couple tins of Cheese & Onion Pringles. Wish I had. The manager actually came out of the store and attempted to explain to the guard the extent of his goof before he drove off in quite a hurry. They must thought, “who is this guy with the fancy car yelling at a guy with a cocked gun. And why are his friends totally unfazed? These must be some really stoned people (nah, unlikely conclusion) or some really bigass CMI/ISO/VCCU/ESO/Military Police/PGB etc people (my preferred version).

By now D had slowed down enough for me to laconically suggest to the guard, who had long uncocked his gun, that he might want to think about apologising before the cops showed up to haul his ass off to Kiira Road police station. To his credit he took my advice, even suggesting “munange I’m apologising but even you also talk for me. Ntaasa!” how the sands of time had shifted. At this point we were walking to the car, D having asked, again, the store attendant to ensure the other car’s owner called him and buggered off to his car. As I got into the front passenger side, I glance over at D’s side and you will never believe what I saw, the guard was on his knees, gun strapped over his shoulder, clasping D’s right hand in both of his, pleading with D to forgive him. The Kid was next to him, in the same position. Rather bemusedly, d replied, “its okay. I forgive you. Never ever repeat what you just did today, ok? Now (said very slowly) get your hands off of me. Thank you.” And we drove off.

Me: by the way, you’re my hero right now
D: by the way, that was an Amygdala attack. You know what I was going to do?
Me: pray, do tell
D: when he cocked the gun, my first impulse was to disarm him and then beat him with his own gun! Bitch slap him with that rifle till he cried like a little bitch
Me: so why didn’t you?
D: dude, he woulda splattered his goddamn blood all over my car!
Me: moot point.
D: this fucking imbecile, thinking he can scare me with a bloody AK47……!
Me: so about u n d Uzi…wssup wit dat?

At that point the intellectual level degenerated into other things


Blogger Jay said...

One of these days he is going to get his ass beat.
You don't want to acting cocky (justifiably or otherwise) with a security guard who hasnt had a square meal in two days, has no idea how the 80,000 he earns is going to cover the fees for the 6 kids and ,I almost forgot, he has also just learnt that the young hustler in the Muzigo next to his is having his way with wifey while he is being sucked dry by mosquitoes during night duty.

Fri May 05, 02:24:00 pm  
Blogger Carlo said...

you know, i'm starting to think you have taste. you actually put up an aude AS 6!! oh, and the vantage, now that's a real beauty. sorry, can't blog anymore. just write me will ya. put my address on ish's blog.
p.s. your blog is too long to read, don't have the time and i've missed too much already so . . . sorry!

Fri May 05, 04:53:00 pm  
Blogger Degstar said...

But you man Jay,
you have to take your liberties where you find them. i cant even take a piss in the bushes outside my palace without the LC people jumping out from behind a Kitooke and making me pay a fine!
i feel over-oppressed by the system! then some bored gaurd wants a piece of me too? Shyaa, who does he call himself?

Sat May 06, 12:42:00 pm  
Blogger Lovely Amphibian said...

and i think D is justified in whatever he does dude. he's the alpha male, according to the interviews i've read, and there's nothing like a head screwed on wrong where alpha males are concerned.

Sat May 06, 01:01:00 pm  
Blogger Jay said...

Alpha shmalpha. He can still get his ass beat.
Seriously though every once in a while those chaps need a talking to. They tend to get bored and eventually seek pleasure in bugging ordinary law abiding folk.

Mon May 08, 11:40:00 am  

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