A diary of bad decisions

 

A diary of bad decisions

It’s a cold crispy night, a part of me can’t quite comprehend that it’s the eve of the New Year, 2015, 2016, 2014, what’s the difference. I have an unperturbed thirst you see, and I have a couple of choices I can make, maybe  I should go to church, receive the sacrament of eluding damnation probably, and then sin before breakfast, not a good idea, perhaps. Besides the kind of spirit I want is madness with a tinge of delirious rambling probably a good dose of crazy. The kind of spirit that makes you go stark mad and run around half naked casting out demons in Bro ocholla’s name. Sometimes I feel like I’m reincarnated living someone else’s life, recollecting someone else’s memories, but one thing I am sure of is that these are the in things of a madman, a full diary of bad decisions.

 

Thursday 31st December 2015; Time 6 pm

I arise, not excitedly, a bit nonchalant and drowsy, I’m still reeling from the thoughts in my head, I’m disturbed by demons, angels what’s the difference, think happy thoughts, expensive liquor thoughts, much better. My mind is astute, an overwhelming calm descends upon me, I am filled of a presence, I enter a matatu, take me to town, I say. Let’s get mad and take all our clothes off.

7pm

I meet my friends, they’re excited, they keep talking loudly and animatedly, the new year is going to be so much fun, they keep saying, my face brightens for a while and then flickers out, I just want to drink, I just want alcohol. We enter the supermarket’s wine and spirit section, we buy drinks, we walk to the KBC depot, we order shots, my vision gets a little blurred, were on the right track, I can’t keep quiet now, were heading someplace else, lets drink some more first, we arise, the night it very young.

8pm

I’m drunk, a good kind if there’s any, we rotate from street to street, we have to get to the Limuru stage, I switch my phone off, I don’t want its battery draining, plus I don’t want the temptation of calling my ex, calling my girlfriend, I know the difference. The matatu were In has loud music, my friends and I are louder, some vodka is pushed my way, I gulp thirstily, a bit hurriedly, my vision deteriorates, only a few more minutes, the night is still young.

9pm

I’m carried into the crib, were in Limuru and the weather is cold, the crib were in is high, I’m higher, the cold is opportune, my blood alcohol level lowers, I see more clearly, there’s lots of people here, a lot of unfamiliar faces, and rowdy voices, sweaty brows also as ladies bend over and the guys stand behind upright and unwavering, it’s an 18 and over fiasco, and I am  smack dab in the middle, I’m excited, there’s this chic she’s looking at me, she eyes me, I think she winked, I down a glass of whisky, I need more confidence.

10pm

Were both seated at the couch she hands me a perspiring glass of warm spiked lemonade cum punch, as she does, our hands touch, she’s warm, and I am so cold she says, she gets closer to my mouth, she has red lipstick on, red means danger but who’s asking, why would I even think that, happy thoughts, another glass of spiked lemonade, her lips are now closer to mine, my mouth is transfixed my lips are woven together, I wait in orgasmic anticipation, its coming, its coming, she turns away, I drool, I wait. She stands she’s hot, a gorgeous body, she starts dancing while flicking her finger, turning me on and over, asking I come over, I stand. The night is still young.

11pm

Her waist is small, but her thighs are large, and her posterior larger, she’s presses down on my lap, the excitement is too much, I push back, we dance, were going crazy, I’m breathing down her neck, she’s rubbing harder against me. We often collapse, she collapses into me, I hold her, she doesn’t want to be outdone, she stands again, and pushes me back further, and she wants to feel me she shouts. I take her hand she snatches it away, I don’t get it she says. We stop dancing. She walks away, I’m left standing aroused alert and alarmed. The night isn’t young no more

 

11.30pm

She finds me seated on the same spot she left me, she’s with her friend, my pal Brian is bending some poor gal over the water dispenser and it’s incredible. She kisses me, it was unexpected and unforthcoming and I wasn’t ready. She kisses me again, her friend joins in, she breathes on my neck, what in the world is going on, I’m terrified, people are watching, mostly envious glances, her friend touches my zipper, I’m alert awake and enthusiastic. I suggest something mildly, they both jump at the opportunity, I take James’ car, ill return it anyway

11.45 pm

I’m driving fast both ladies are in the passenger seat, the windows are open, they’re shouting wildly, one of them is still toying with my zipper, my eyes are on  the road, we pass cars faster and faster, we got to get home, I have to bag these two beauties, my blood boils, my zipper is open. I’m going crazy, cars are coming in faster, there’s loud hooting all over, my mind is clear

11.55 pm

We’re almost there, I’m coming…. The car, she’s going faster, a lorry, did we narrowly miss that? A truck, am I on the wrong side of the road? One of the ladies yells, the other one unclasps me, and opens her mouth and sits upright, we hit the charging Land rover head on.

11.58 pm

My fly is open. The car is mangled, I can feel a warm trickle down my head, I move one hand, and fix my fly. I can’t move. My vision is getting blurred again.

11.59 pm

Theres a low moaning behind me, I can’t look, I can’t move, my vision’s worse, I can’t see a thing, I’m blind now. My heart is beating softly now, I can barely hear its soft thuds, slowing down.

 

 

 

Friday 1st January 2016

0000 hrs.

I wonder how the New Year will be, dear old happy 2016.

 

Happy new year my dear readers, I salute you since well you deserve it, special thanks to all who have commented on my blog this year, especially Lisa and Carole my number one comments persons, I love you all guys, till we meet next year for more of the lone puppeteer. Also don’t drink and drive today, let’s all get to 2016 in one piece?

 

Francis the Lone Puppeteer

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