A Blast From The Past

The Girlfriend wanted to use my computer this weekend, which of course meant that last night was spent frantically trying to delete / hide all my pornographic materials and semi-salacious pics of Patricia Lewis. Whilst conducting this routine maintenance, I stumbled across the earlier incarnation of my website, something I thought I had lost many many years before, together with my self respect and virginity. Many people may not realise this, but I was probably one of the first bloggers in South Africa, before the term "blogging" was even, well, a term.

This article was originally written in January 2003, and refers to a particularly crazy adventure I had. Enjoy....

The New Years Adventure 2003

I was walking around Canal Walk a few days ago, with an empty wallet and a massive headache.

Why was I at Canal Walk? I wasn’t too sure. After a night of intensive partying, I had woken up in their underground parking lot, reeking of lady’s perfume, cigarettes and, even more disturbing than the lady’s perfume, urine.

I suspected the urine was caused by the old, homeless guy sitting nearby, who smiled at me mischievously and called me “Joanie”.

I was quite perturbed by this, as it clearly wasn't my name, and so I went inside the mall, hoping to uncover some answers. I had just come out of the johns, still feeling the effects of the breeyahni I had the night before, when I was nearly delimbed by a strange, furry creature with red hair. Thankfully the sharp pain in my right leg and testicle area subsided and my vision slowly returned (because you know, that’s what happens when you get hit in the testicles – you go blind).

I was greeted with the bizarre site of a sniveling little child who appeared to be moving across the floor without moving his legs(!)

"What trickery of Satan is this?" I wondered, trying to remember what exactly I had drunk the night before. Convinced it was that strange, green liquid The Gupster had given me, I closed my eyes, trying to shake out the cobwebs while plotting my revenge. I opened my eyes, my vision clearer now, and noticed my attacker seemed to have wheels on his shoes. He was an ugly little child, with a runny nose, dirty ginger hair and a seemingly shitty attitude.

“Hey, you little shit,” I shouted angrily (He was a little shit, not older than five or six) “watch where you’re going!”

He levitated over to me, looking at me disdainfully, “Shut up, you reek of urine and you look like a drunkard”

Taken aback by how eloquently this little bastard spoke, I recovered quickly and chopped him in the throat, causing him to show his age and cry like a little girl. It was a lightning-quick move I had developed over the years, using it regularly on my little brother when he pissed me off, so I was pretty sure no one saw me. A soft blow to the back of head told me otherwise though.

“What have you done to my son?!?” I was greeted by a middle aged woman who looked as if she’d had a really tough life, and I quickly realized where her son got his unique looks from.

She took another swing with her weapon, a cheap, embroided bag which she probably made herself, but I was prepared this time and nimbly sidestepped her attack with all the grace of a gazelle, displaying remarkable balance considering my condition.

I responded with a firm stamp on her right foot, as I’d never actually hit a woman, and I was fairly confident she was of the female species. As I did this I felt a firm set of hands on my shoulders and I was put in a devilish arm lock, whisked away by the Canal Walk security….

Anyway, so here I am, sitting in a holding cell in Wynberg Magistrates Court. Apparently, what I did was known as “assault” and I could face some jail time. It’s quite scary here, the other inmates keep smiling at me the way that homeless guy did.

Sylvester, who sleeps on the bunk above me, says he’ll protect me if I “toss his salad”. This confuses me though, as the food here is incredibly bad and I’ve yet to see any lettuce, pineapples or even tomatoes being served here. We’ll have to see how it all pans out.

The End

___________________________________________________________

Wow, what an exciting and eventful life I lead. For the record, I managed to make it out alive, Sylvester was all talk, and turned out to be quite an interesting chap, who taught me how to knit and do professional embroidery, unlike the poor quality bag that was used to beat me with.

Thanks again Sylvester, hope your bail application is approved this time, I'll be holding thumbs.



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