Picture this:

Picture this:

“A lion. A big lion. Large and fierce, with razor-sharp interlocking teeth allover it’s mouth and where the tongue is supposed to be. A perfect rolex shredding machine. But one that isn’t powered by rolexes (sorry Tyson) but by jaw activity, chasing after you.”

{Last_Night} Somewhere in Kakyeka…
So this is truly happening: I’m in this dark place, mirky waters splashing off the heals of my boots, heart rate steadily up there but my lungs suffocating- running. Ironically, my feet are held tightly together by 98% cotton, polyester and sheer emotion… but still I’m running. There’s this thing chasing after me and I don’t really know what it is, but judging from the deadly snare and mucus wetting the behind of my lobes, it would seem that I’m being chased by a modern day dunkleosteus, but like I said, I can’t be certain, I haven’t managed to get a good look at it yet… or never, fine by me. It could as well be Tyson (sorry again). But at least then I’d know for sure that it’s not trying to eat me, not the whole of me anyway. Just the ears (Ziyal’s words). So I guess that leaves about several other horrendous ways this could end. I have about four options myself. The ground seems pretty levelled if you ask me. The first option is to grab a cold Guinness from the freezer and just sit it out. Die boldly. Leave a mark on my fine sneakers like Nicholas Cage in TOKAREV. Nice movie by the way- about zero Russians smiling.

The second option is to keep running and hope the creature never catches up with me. Cardinal word being hope. I like Hope, not who I’m talking about though. You know hope- that pointless thing that people like to do to make unseemly bright futures seem less inevitable and more in their control and/or favour. Which surprisingly seems to work. But pass. That was actually a setup for a pun on A-Pass, I finally listened to all two of his tracks, but dude… you get no pass.

The third option. Running faster. This is more of Floyd’s métier and of course, not very reasonable. I could be heading right for their den for all I know. I just don’t see how getting there any faster improves my chances, unless I have a Mnara strapped around me of course. But sure, It would buy me time to prepare… to arm myself sufficiently to fight off and eliminate this beast if possible, or trick it into swallowing Mnara’s head and choking off his forehead, among other things (there you go Tracy with the weird name). But this plan too has a major flaw in it, even if I somehow managed to cough up a Mnara (okay, just the head) and still be alive for it, I’d still need a pulley, an instruction manual and his mother’s diary to start with.

The fourth option is more idealistic, cerebral in a way and perhaps ballsy for most. Monks get this, but we can’t all be monks now can we? Option four requires me to take the beast and/or it’s ground advantage out of the picture, cognitively by flying away, teleporting it away or better yet, building me a flying city, affirming that this… this thing never gets to me while I sleep. Meaning I would have to sacrifice my urges for being on the ground as well. But I can’t part with the ground as yet, I still haven’t gotten over my fear of heights. Museveni relates to this point of view, Alex too but no one cares what he thinks.

But do you know what I do next? I set my alarm in intervals so it can wake me up at various times of the night. That way I don’t spend my sleep time writing things like this… waking up screaming quails, coughing out feathers and dictators only to find that this thing, this beast… was just scared for it’s own life, perhaps because it saw me running and by instinct thought we were both in mortal danger, who knows? Why did the chicken cross the road? If you ask me… Balloteli. But we don’t really know, do we? Things we’ll never be sure about because some idiot forgot to charge their tablet, or whatever. *breathes out loudly- finally catches up with that strong feeling, all that oomph oozing out of my burned out thumb tips. Well that settles it, no more animal planet for this guy.



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