Throw Me A Frickin’ Teaspoon

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About three petrol-price-hikes back I experienced a premature mid-life crisis. I flicked my hair the other way, became a Buddhist for 12 minutes, and deleted MXit because I love jackfruit. In the inconsequential rage session that followed I may have said something insensitive:

“Friend”: Nobody likes you!
Naven: No! Everybody doesn’t like you! They all wish you were a blonde model, locked in a bathroom, with your paranoid paralympian boyfriend waiting outside, holding a gun, on Valentine’s Day.

Yes yes, I know. That’s a very sore topic. Some of us want Oscar to be innocent, some want him to burn at the stake. Some want to be interrogated by Barry Roux in a damp cellar just because he’s so damn good at it. If you totally click on his name in the last sentence there, you can learn all about him in song.

It’s disheartening to see one of the most inspirational things to come out of this third world gem, be tarnished by homicide. So you’d have to be rather cynical to hope he’s convicted. On the other hand/claw, would you condone murder as justifiable to protect yourself from burglary? Yes? Chances are you play Grand Theft Auto and like the feeling of hot wax on your bare feet. Shame, prison’s no place for pretty white boys.

I know you’ve been waiting months for “pretty white boy” to be used in a sentence. You’re welcome. There used to be this warm feeling not dissimilar to heartburn every time you saw the Bladerunner embarrass able-bodied athletes with his peg legs. Most of us stopped running at all after that. Os ran for us all. For you, Fat Man. For you, Rhino Poacher. For you, Hipster. For Mazibuko, the Pipe Wrench Salesman. For Emile, the Bacon Evangelist. For Awari, the Nigerian Student Drug Dealer. For Mirriam, Tumi and Venesh from the Post Office. For everyone from the fresh produce aisle at Checkers. Show some support, will you?

Unfortunately not everyone is gifted with superior athletic prowess and great hair. I, for example, have embraced a more entrepreneurial outlook and turned to small business for security. Yes, if you’re a party animal looking for a good time, look no further than me to provide you with all the substances you need to abuse. Shout for the following:

Wristtweezers
Uppers
Downers
Sidewayers
Camelstooth
Nazibiters
Pretzelmongers
Eelsticks
Wheezekicks
Jellybabies
Marrowsparrows
Whistlecrystals

While stocks last, of course. Call me. We’ll meet under the stairs. I’ll be the nervous looking one.

As you can gather from the products available, the target market is mainly witty, creative, politically-progressive young people burdened with many emotions and feelings and struggling to be understood in the modern context. Please be a hipster with money, please be a hipster with money.

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I have no idea what I’m saying. To be honest, I got distracted by a cobweb six minutes ago and that was a self-induced hallucination thing that the doctor said happens sometimes. Also, often recently I’ve been systematically stealing teaspoons from work. Unlike when I used to be into lighters, I’ve refrained from calling it petty theft or even kleptomania. I’d like to think that it’s my subconscious preparing for a global resource scramble. Teaspoons will have hundreds of uses in a post-apocalyptic world. They can be used to make telescopes, Windmill spanners, tank valves and diabetic shoes. A humble teaspoon can be fashioned into a Jaws of Life or another spoon with greater purpose even. Don’t even get me started on it’s military applications.

Okay. I’m sorry I bored you and drew your attention away from that scar running down your back. Coincidently, if you’re a girl and you fell asleep, don’t be surprised. I have put more girls to sleep than the Sugar Cane Killer.

As the French say, “Go away”

Make sentence here

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