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In not so great distance away from ‘Summit’ pub, Tony had long realized that quite a number of his fellow customers had already arrived and begun making merry before him. The cacophonous shouts and the loud music that played from Ken Maria’s new album rented the air. In a tight competition with this loud music were the drunks who were sluggishly singing along. He stood outside for a moment and after dropping off a filter of his cigar and tactfully crushing it under his foot; he shrugged the thread curtain and entered. He jumped over a drunk who lay straight on the floor snoring. Tapping the buttocks of a waiter with his baby-shy hands; he made for his usual table where a man and a lady sat drInkink. They were endlessly confessing their undying love to each other amid kisses. He was reminded a lot about romance but he lost track of this memories seconds later when the bar lady cunningly inquired his taste for the day.

‘Two Presidents and ice on the rocks… halafu you check the kitchen boy for me’, he yelled in a bid to beat the noise in this bleary and light-green lit pub. As the maid with a heavily gifted behind vanished, his attention was drawn to a man, two tables across, who was, at the top of his drunken voice, narrating how they used to play paper-soccer with the son of Africa: Kanu, a footballer, years long gone. This to Tom was not new since every drunk sought every evenue to deceive the others about a kinship link to a great personality in the world. Then came a very loud laughter near him and in a second, the couple reiterated its presence to him and he got interested in watching these two love birds. The lady’s lips locked the companion’s in one mighty romantic swipe that left Tom’s tool vibrating, and for the first time after vowing never to fall in love again, he felt a great need for a woman in his life! He wondered, still how Mercy had won his heart, and appeared blind to his recent shots. And then in one mighty downfall of mood, he felt a sudden hatred for her, a gross contempt and an unmatched displeasure in these descendants of Eve… women! Love, He still had no words to define it!

He was brought back to conscience by the jiggling of bottles that the bar maid strew before him. He died of anticipation as she flew the bottle tops off. He drew his glass and as he filled it with the newest brand, he felt like one who was just about to take a flight to another world; to an ideal world, free from ladies who pretend to be too holy but are dying inside, a world that only him and his happiness mattered, and to a world that many seek but only he, and his fellow drank find. He closed his eyes as the hot, cold and chucking drink flowed down his throat. He felt his head float momentarily. He experienced a sudden spasm of joy, he wanted to shout and tell the rest how he narrowly escaped death. In his words, he had played a very big trick on death! So death was not after all inevitable! What followed was a series of long rejuvenating sips of the esteemed drink. The more he drank, the more his head floated and the more excited he became. Indeed, it was not for nothing that the manufacturer of the ‘president’ quoted somewhere on the bottle that ‘the cooler it becomes, the higher you go’. He, Tony Juguna, had confirmed that and besides being ready to defend it on whatever platform, he had endorsed this brand and declared it fit for consumption.

He soon got interested in what initially he had thought noisy- the music. His bottle in his wagging hands, he took to the dance floor entering it in a rare dancing style that, unnoticeably to him, attracted other ‘drinkers’ who gave him a standing ovation. He gave them a ‘Loketo’ jig, then the ‘Floaters’ jig and by the time he came to the newest- the ‘Broom’ twist, all the ladies in the pub vowed to disown their lovers if they didn’t conform to such dancing. He felt a crowd of them, in fact, a swarm of ladies counter him, some at his groins and others exploring his otherwise unaware manhood that had long rose to the occasion. He breathed hard! God! Hardly had he taken a few jigs after waning off the ladies when the curtains flew open and something in the pub’s manner made him look at the door. Who did he see? His heart skipped a beat and stupidly enough he regrettably felt his steams fall down drastically.

She walked over to the very table that he, Tom, had occupied. She had not him. He felt a sharp spasm of excitement and in one ironic twist of event his once jovial mood was suddenly replaced by fear, tension and pounding of his heart. He felt his blood race in his cold veins. He did not know what to do. As she talked with the waiter, he got himself busy with wrestling his self that was now compelling him to advance to her. He drew his courage and approached her table with utter anxiety. She raised her eyes and bum! Their eyes met, tearing across the romantic light green rays of the florescent. He breathed hard and after a great deal of gathering courage, he mumbled a series of poorly articulated utterances of salutations. She, in unprecedented manner, smiled invitingly and in a quick strike they both reckoned the circumstances of their first rendezvous- Mwingi VCT! And as the waiter placed her order on the table, he felt his heart skip a bit from the glance she had shot him! God! He had not expected and for the sake of honesty he whispered in to his almost insatiable soul ‘I love her’.

The next hour found them in the dance floor as they were giving in to the winds of the then newest release ‘one step at a time’. Tom’s jealousy could not be concealed under his unperfected guise of being unaffected especially when his fellow young men managed to steal a dance from Ann. He would feel an abnormally big bolus of pain go down his throat whenever these men placed their hands on Ann’s hips and rubbed her tender hipster tightened bosom against their swollen and protruding zipped groins. Ironically or so, Ann seemed to enjoy every bit of it. At times, she would pose as if to fall on her back but suddenly, a pair of drunken men would come to her aid. Holding her by her hips and bust, they would lift her to their insatiable selves; she would giggle and express her joy as she remained sandwiched by her saviors. It was too much for him to stomach and he thought that telling her he loved her would turn the tables, but he could not. He was scared of her reactions, her HIV status and above all, the fear possessed by all men: the fear of rejection!

Published: 2009-02-14
Author: Aggrey Nzomo

About the author or the publisher
I am a graduate of Moi university kenya in Linguistics and Foreing languages. I am aged twenty two and a good narrative and descriptive writer. i currently write with an online company the i have with me finished poems and short stories. i also write sex episodes and i have four episodes so far. i am a single male of an African origin.

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