Part I – Him

By • Sep 29th, 2010 • Category: Diary Of A Kampala Psychopath

I broke up with Therese today.
It went much better than I expected. She didn’t cry, or throw furniture. She just sat there and sort of auto-shredded herself into a puddle of patheticness. At least I got to fuck her one last time. I probably can fuck her again. It can’t be that difficult.
Jeje was happy to see me, fawning the moment I walked through the door. If he had a tail no doubt he would have wagged it. Jeje is lonelier than most people. In a way he is like me. People avoid us because they find us peculiar. We are just peculiar in different ways. I wanted to see how he would react when told him about Therese. True to form, he exploded.
“You did what?” Why would you do that? That bird! She didn’t talk shit. Or give shit is what I am saying.
Sometimes it is difficult to figure out what exactly Jeje is saying. He is like that.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
Take what? His mouth hung loose as it always did when something was perplexing him and he was concentrating on figuring it out. A small well of saliva collected in a huge glistening bead on his lower lip. I watched fascinated as it swelled, swelled and then dripped soundlessly to the ground. Jeje licked his lips. Too late dude.
Why did you hook up with her in the first place? He asked.
The way she walked made me laugh. I wanted to keep her around. My work was stressing me. But you know I left my job.
So I told her to go. I wasn’t stressed anymore.
“Why would you do that? That must have hurt her feelings.” He looked dazed.
It doesn’t matter.
He gave me the look I used to catch my mother giving me when she thought I wasn’t looking. Half disgust and half… fear?
“That girl loved you.” He said eventually.
It doesn’t matter.
And it didn’t, she couldn’t do anything to me. She is not a vengeful person.
I left Jeje’s. He didn’t have the DVDs I wanted. I went to Mr. E’s in Ntinda. In retrospect I should have gone there first instead of enduring Jeje and his spit bubbles. I stared at the shelves. Most of this year’s movies I had already watched. I was bored already. Martin Lawrence’s zany face stared lopsidedly at me, flatly two-dimensional under the greasy polythene wrapping of the DVD cover. I stared back. He stared back even harder.
Not to be undone I stared back.
“I can do this for ever maaan. For ever I tell ya.” He seemed to be saying.
That doesn’t make you any less of an idiot I muttered under my breath.
A smooth brown arm crossed my line of vision and picked up the DVD I was looking at. Suddenly and as always… my mind froze. I could see the round girlish arm moving as if in slow motion, I could almost feel my breath fluffing the soft delicate hairs on her upper arm, could almost hear the blood pulsing in the thin greenish blue veins that lay beneath the pale bronze skin of her inner wrist. As her fingers gracefully closed around the jacket, the fragile creases on her knuckles flattened, her fingernails whitened slightly from the pressure…
… And then the moment was over. The hand withdrew and everything speeded up. I turned my head and studied her. She was small, about 5″5’; an assembly of beautiful curves, soft brown flesh and glam sparkly clothing. She seemed edgy, fidgety…nervous. Maybe she was attracted to me. I thought back to when I had come in. She was at the cashier’s when I entered, paying for a DVD. Then she had lingered around a bit. More than was necessary really. And she had restricted her lingering to wherever I was.
So she was attracted to me.
I looked at her again. Not bad. Okay then, I mentally shook myself into action… and…
She turned round. But she turned too suddenly, her eyes were too wide. Plus she seemed unsure on how she wanted her mouth to look. Genuine surprise is never unsure. It just is.
“Hi,” she replied. Her voice trembled. This girl must be really young.
I reached out and cupping her chin in my hand, turned her face up to mine. I heard a sharp intake of breath.
“What are you doing?” She said. Her eyes were wide, wide with real fear. Fear is good sometimes. When you calm their fear, it somehow makes them feel closer to you. And the rest is downhill.
I wanted to see your face properly. My voice was at a suitably low, suitably gravelly register.
“Why?” Scared but curious, perfect combination.
I looked deep into her eyes.
They say you never forget your first time. Voice half an octave lower. And right now your face is perfect.
She dissolved. This girl was REALLY young.

I took her to Chillies. She said she didn’t drink and I didn’t push it. As she talked I studied her. She was more intelligent than most form six vacists; curious and intense and naïve. As she talked, my eyes wandered (rather lazily) over her face and neck. I couldn’t make up my mind what to do with her. She was too easy a conquest. My staring was making her uncomfortable but she ploughed on. She bent over to emphasize something passionate and boring about the importance of voting in the 2010 presidential elections and her warm brown soft looking breasts squirmed temptingly at me over the top of her low cut, bra-less top.
That was it. She was going down. I made a bet. I’d have her naked and sucking my dick before an hour was out. I rarely lose such bets.
I didn’t lose this one.

Liking this article is what happens to cool people

  • Kissyfur

    The Streetsider, huh. Cant wait to read the next entry.

  • Rhino

    Holy crap! Have mercy!

  • Lady Sinister

    Eh. She had it coming(really. glam sparkly clothing? eish), but you’re so…Evil. *clap clap clap. And jeje is bloody gross.

  • raphael gatewood

    mad props!!….
    move noted