The Day Of The Streetside

By • Dec 31st, 2010 • Category: WTH

It has been argued that this is the day Streetsider was born. Streetsider’s birthday if you will. Hah hah. How naïve of you to think that such a thing is even possible. Streetsider was not born. That would imply that there was a time before Streetsider.

Yet since the dawn of time itself the Streetsider has ever been: a dark, sinister, perpetual presence lingering wherever shadows were.

Streetsider was not born in the hospital that New Year’s eve. He was revealed.

Many statements were recorded on the day the dark one was made known to mankind. Most of them were, “Oooh shit! OOoooh shit! We’re like so dead.” The sight of a newborn baby flipping the bird and asking the nurse for a triple-malt whiskey for his bottle was the first clue.

But when in later years he grew two extra three penises and was not afraid to use all simultaneously, some of those statements changed to “Streets, come and meet my friends. We are ever at our hostel.” and were issued by female people.

The ancient Streetside has wrought worse things than being a one-man gangbang at Akamwesi. For example, why is it that after meeting Streets, then watching Bela Lugosi’s Dracula, you find that something about the vampire seems vaguely familiar?

The same thing happens with Megamind.

Hide yourselves. Flee while ye yet may.

Sleek here. I and I, I a na go flee. I is Rastaman…Rasta na flee. Streets, he’s aight. I actually went to school with that shithead. Dude used to try to intimidate teachers with his local accent. Worked most of the times. He also developed   his own style of walk, ‘The Slouch‘, which looks more like one ball is bigger than the other and they are rubbing uncomfortably against each other. Just saying.

Liking this article is what happens to cool people

  • http://www.savvykenya.com savvykenya

    Is Streetsider reading this?

    • Sleek

      Yes he is…with tears in his eyes.

  • http://www.savvykenya.com savvykenya

    I assume tears of joy, Such a well written story