I retched into the toilet bowl for the fourth time and felt my head go blank. Still, I held on to the cold ceramic like Joab to the horns of the altar. Holding on to life. A disgusting feeling had settled at the pit of my belly, and made itself at home, placing its legs on a footstool. Now I could feel it gathering its robes, yet again, and rising slowly up my gullet. My back arched and… there was nothing left to vomit. Only intestines. Only empty slimy intestines. It settled back. With a foot stool, and a glass of whiskey.

The last time I had had such a fit, I was in form 1. In the school dining hall. I had left a steaming plate of over boiled Githeri, with the usual weevils floating in circlets of oil, to look for a spoon. Jim lent me one and I hurried to pack the tasteless load into my option-less stomach. I had been too hungry to notice the silence, snickers and stares. Halfway through though, I paused mid-chew and scanned the hall. All those castrated goats had been waiting for that moment. The hall became the carnivore during a Redykyulass recording. Guffaws, hisses, chuckles and an overall display of chewed food… some fourth form idiot had picked a handful of yellow-green maize grains from a pile of dog shit and mixed them up in my plate, threatening everyone to silence for maximum effect… anyway, that was then, before I could approach a girl without planning the whole conversation in my head first. Before I caressed my first pair of boobies. Before my first orgasm. Before Wangeci. Before I retched in the bowl.

There are all types of weird then there is Wangeci. She is its original shade. You couldn’t tell she was nuts until you got to know her. I had gotten a good dose of that, knowing her. Our relationship was on its sixth month and I thought I had seen all she had to offer. Then I vomited in the… She was a pro at leaving. She could leave anywhere, anyhow, anyone anytime. One moment you are all laughing at a stupid joke, the next she is pacing away ignoring your calls of concern and leaving you in a deep session of self analysis. At first, I assumed I was doing something wrong, I could not remember any of my killer farts breaking out while we were together. My mouth doesn’t stink… much… just a little… okay it does, but I bought those mouth freshener thingies and chewed her favourite cinnamon flavoured PKs every time we were together. Eventually, I got used to it… then she walked out of the damn bed when I was just about to… I screamed in frustration. Yes really!! Like a girl!! She didn’t even turn. Just went and turned on the shower. Chilled in there for a thousand minutes them came and gave me one of the best finishing touches I’ve had in my life. Then she did it again, and again… for a truck load of times. Sometimes she came back, sometimes she just threw her dress on (she never wore jeans, something about fresh air. I’m still convinced they are a liability to pro Leavers) and walked out of my second floor apartment. I asked her a bunch of times why she did that and she just stared at me like a large electrocuted dragonfly and change the subject.

We were in a heated afternoon session of coitus yesterday. Me, below her as usual grunting like the Boniface Mwangi’s pigs while she rocked away in between moan and sigh. Beautiful! Just like in the movies… I was at the verge of release, with a groan already building at my throat, waiting for three more thrusts when she got off my pecker and walked to the window like the maniac she is. You don’t walk away when someone is about to introduce themselves! I was about to introduce a few million micro mes into her!!! Whatever happened to courtesy??! I WOULD HAVE KILLED HER AT THAT MOMENT! A stake through her cold heart or anything!! But she walked on the window, and before the “Great! Maybe she only wants some breeze” thought settled in my mind, she saved me the trouble.

Wangeci walked out of the window. Yes, just like that. She did not jump of leap of dive! No! Just opened the damn thing and paced out. My manhood instantly shrunk to an eighth of its former size… I cannot tell you how I got to the window or how I got to the bathroom and started vomiting… all I remember is her body on the ground and her intestines hanging from the downstairs neighbour’s DStv dish. The damn bar must have gotten her belly… The fucking picture kept replaying itself in my mind. Bodies…dish…Intestines… body… intestines… As I lowered my face into the bowl for the fifth time and tried to vomit mine out too… speechless… waiting for the inevitable scream.

 ~ Ngartia


0 Responses

  1. bunmi familoni says:

    BRILLIANT! That strange moment when you feel you’re reading something you wrote, only that you didn’t write it, some other nutter did! Bang! *dead*

    1. storyzetu says:

      Thanksman!! I know that feeling… say hi to it, been a while since we met.

  2. Richie Maccs says:

    Weirdo. I like the wind of creativity that has been growing. Lets keep learning.

    1. storyzetu says:

      Yes sire!! Till we die yes?

  3. syombaa says:


    1. storyzetu says:

      Glad to know that 😀

  4. alice says:

    Sicko! you juswentonandkilledher!

    1. Ngartia says:

      She did!! Up here in my head. Not me 😛

  5. zippyokoth30 says:

    Ok Ngatia, U don’t have to kill all the women in your stories…she could very much be in your neighbours arms. Lol! Good piece.

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