Meet The Parents

Good Day Bloggers

Ain't wrote a post in a while. Might have y'all thinking that maybe I had followed our blogosphere's beloved Olive Riley, who beat our grannies to the click of the mouce by becoming the world's oldest blogger. Poor Riley died in her sleep this past weekend.

But still on the dying tip, I might go out on a limb and say I almost died this weekend. But almost doesn't count does it? Well, just when me and my girlfriend were celebrating our passionate reunion, some suckers had to put us on a high speed chase around Shatale. It was a matter of road rage. Me and my girlfriend (look for me) were on our way to her mother's house when these motherfuckers who were coming from behind us decided I was short-driving them. The car stopped on me when I was going over a speed hump right near my grandmother's place, but no, the motherfuckers in a Ford bakkie thought I was wasting their time. They overtook me as I tried to drive on, and stopped in front of me. The driver came out, and his friend followed from the passenger seat holding a quart of beer. They shouted infimities at me, threatening to do something. It was night and dark, I panicked and hit reverse. Motherfuckers rushed to their bakkie, turned it around and tried coming straight at me. I drove towards them and the cars faced each other. I swerved quickly and ducked a head-on collision. By that time my woman was wondering in her mind if we got back together to die together. I was in escape mode. The motherfuckers pursued right behind. I thought of Kasiekulture's house in Zone 1. I took a rough swerve at the 4 way stop, went down to the Anglican church like a jet on drugs. I will pretend that I was not listening to my woman when she begged me not to go that fast – but I wasn't gonna let these motherfuckers fuck with me, let alone her. If we had to die, let it be – I thought.

As the chase got hot, I took another swerve from hell at the Anglican church, almost hitting another bakkie. Lights were flashing from behind, motherfuckers were hot on my heels, but these were not Archilles'. I sped past the corner and decided, fuck Kasie, nigga might be in Joburg coz he love to travel, giving people taste of his damn vommit. Everything was really happening fast. I thought oh no, I'm not gonna get shot by some punk motherfuckers – I am this close to becoming a millionaire – in fact I am already a millionaire, in paper, yeah a couple of millions (you'll read about it in the press). So I went past Kasie's home and took a killer swerve into the dust road right next to the old resource centre, headed toward the unknown. By this time I could no longer see the lights behind me because of all the dust that followed me. The little car was just taking as much beating as it could with all the potholes and the assholes making my weekend of bliss a living hell. I dug on, took a left and got on the tar road en route my woman's home. I overtook two cars in a matter of seconds and almost crashed into a Golf trying to make a corner. If it wasn't for my beautiful woman's words of caution I probably would be hanging at some dreary hospital or mabye chilling in the mortuary. Luckily I had not been drinking that day, hey! So, yeah, drove into my woman's home in a cold sweat and that's how I met the parents.

PS: I've always known my woman's parents, her mother taught me all my lower primary school days while her father almost did at high primary – I was lucky he didn't. But now they know whose been giving their sweet daughter a headache. Guilty as charged.