Arts
Yea, it’s the hot 2017 and what next
MANENO’S WORLD WITH MUSH
Free style at the beach
Someone (was it my teacher?), you and you still with the nostalgia of 2016 and still writing your dates ending with that year. Naah, we have moved on and moving we are come rain come sunshine.
Now, talking about sunshine quickly reminds me of these hot days or is it a heat wave hitting us with no mercy in its bosom or is it its pants? Well, whatever it is, each for themselves and God for us all. This heat, my foot- it’s doing a few wonders to the body systems of certain chaps you included.
To some, actually to many we have come across, it is heating, to almost boiling point, their cranial nerves and the affected chaps easily come to anger and the threat of violence in quick succession hence the ultra acts of violence you see or hear of around this side of the globe.
But that’s not all. To also quite a few many others, the heat has, and continues to fire up the blood in the midsections of their bodies and bwana, oh bwana, with what results! Shame upon you – is that rightly directed, if you are insensitive to this heat and, as one associate once remarked, especially if, since it came on the war path a few months last year, the damn temperature has not, for the male animals, fired up the blood vessels in your trouble shooters.
Equally, it’s shame upon you granddaughters of Eve if the damn heat has not or ever fired up to dripping levels, the damn vessels of the mechanisms of your kabuniddes. Shame upon you indeed and we boldly say this with no regrets up our sleeves even if you threaten to report our position to any one of those very virile pastors around tawo.
Damn you and damn you again if you dare to carry that out because man, just like our Donald Trump of the day, we care no nothing whether or not you demonstrate against our leadership position because , certain as the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, we will lead you on.
Aaaah, sorry about the aberration. Matter of fact, some things need to be said to existing or to non-existing audiences even if in doing that one is condemned to the ever lasting vile fires of hell. Hell my foot! What a poor threat that can be for the majority of Banna U who have experienced their kind of hell under the rule of our Heads of State since the 1970s. Truth be said, Banna U, abafuzi baffe nga batulazeeko!
Yes, it was the other day wheda what or what, the damn heat drove us off the tawo streets and we headed for the beaches of our own Lake Nalubaale. Mwaana gwe! The things we saw there are the very ones for which we earned ourselves skin breaking thrashings during our growing up years. Mother of my buttocks, who dared ever think that even people with questionable Intelligence Quotients could put on full glare certain of their body parts answering to ebyobusiru!
That day, we navigated four beaches and what we found there was a common denominator. It was not only thighs and arms that were on view; even the milk melons and the origins of love juices were not spared. And on not less than several times, we were witness to sisters as well as mother off-layers swooning the whatever as they unmindfully finger surfed their double-lipped lipsody down down there and seeming to love it to no limits. Soothing this heat my foot!
We came across what seemed to us college-going wavijanas who, with wild looks, boldly invited us to summer-surf their winking twats which they open-secretly let us look at to ascertain that the volcanoes inside them were threatening to erupt vulva, I mean lava. A colleague we were with, showed that he does not ignore open invitations.
He yanked up one of the girls from the ground where she lazily lay and force-marched (Naah, the girl was a willing victim) her to half- secluded environs around where he subjected her to a pudenda-whacking bonanza that can easily be entered in the world guinness book of the whatever. Come again. Brother or brother, never you wonder at the capabilities of some guys’ cunt-thrashing bravado; you doubt this and you can doubt anything.
Just you ask my sisters who vend their valleys of fame for Mutebile’s dollars and you can wonder no longer. Sebo, some guys are hung like donkeys and when it comes to putting their dillingers to work, it’s what you mean when you talk about cunt breaking.
No wonder when he was through with the girl an hour later, he emerged from the scrubs alone and it’s the girl’s colleagues who came to their sister’s rescue, resuscitated her and double-supported her into the world of the living. Once she regained her senses, the girl was heard to swear: “Nze oyo omusajja sisobola kugimwongera…..” Whatever that means. Otherwise, Hot Season oyee!
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