The sun sits midway through the sky and beats upon the ground. It shimmers off the water of a pool. A playing card sits in suspended animation towards the middle of the pool and turns slowly. But let me begin at the beginning.
A couple of months ago I came across a clear liquid in a Klippies bottle in our liquor cabinet. When I asked my Old Man about it, he told me it was a bottle of Witblits a mate of his had given him. Now, his mate died in a car accident a before I was born, which makes the bottle conservatively 24 years old. Remember this little piece of information; it will become important later in this story.
Saturday saw a couple of people pull through to my house for a braai, sun, rugby, etc. Mid-afternoon Knaps’ girlfriend left us. It was the red rag brandishing matador and I the bull. Knaps tends to behave a little less like an upstanding pillar (and by pillar, I of course mean house or small military base) of our community and is far more susceptible to my wiles.
The rugby ended and the coals burned low in the Weber and there were we 8.
I poured those assembled a wee dram of Witblits, using the old classic “oh, sorry, we ran out of shot glasses, here’s a tumbler” technique on Knaps. It’s difficult to describe the taste of 25 year old Witblits. I think the closest I can come is: imagine swallowing a small live rodent. It would probably taste like toilet. And it would probably try claw its way out all the way down. Very soon drinking games were flowing and merriment abounded.
There were a few at the table who had not yet discovered the joys of the word ‘diff’. They had to be educated:
diff [dif]
-noun, plural –s. Slang.1. a head, sometimes used to mean specifically a forehead or face, often used in conjunction with
smash:
smash it in your diff! (put in in your mouth) or combined to produce the verb
diffsmash! (orally consume) or
smash him in the diff! (hit him in the head)
Also,
dif.
[Origin:
East Rand]
As leaving time approached, I tried to get Knaps to down the last beer – he resisted. So, a race was devised – the loser to smash the final beer in their diff – complete with pitstops with shots and platoon rolls. I think it was the shot of Campari, but Knaps knobviously started chundering. And obviously I beat him.
We left my house, leaving behind on the outside table 2 decks of cards, a newspaper and a really siff used paper napkin, and went to the Colonoscopy. There we did what one does there – drink John Deeres until your kidney juice turns green. Allegedly I waved my phallus at the crowd a bit because it seemed like the thing to do. A tattooed monster, saturated with steroids and rage took offense and dragged his knuckles over to me. I, however, was completely oblivious to my impending doom and wandered away, leaving Knaps to face the Troglodyte’s wrath.
Troglodyte: Take this outside?
Knaps: Erm…fine thanks.
The Troglodyte grabbed Knaps by the collar and started hauling him outside. Knaps grabbed a pot-plant because he didn’t foresee accompanying the Troglodyte outside going well for him.
The Troglodyte smashed Knaps in the back of the diff. [Ed Note: Who throws a shoe – honestly?] In the ensuing scuffle, somehow the retarded bouncer threw Knaps out and left the Troglodyte inside. By this time a couple of our party had seen what was going on and came to assist “Iron Mike” Knaps. My girlfriend (bless her) started telling the Troglodyte (loudly and with bulging forehead vein) exactly what he could put where, until Knife considering what the consequences might be for himself if the Troglodyte took further issue, clamped his hand over her mouth and dragged her away.
In hindsight I do regret a little bit how hard I laughed when I heard about what had happened – butt fuck that is funny. His girlfriend left him in my clutches for one evening the whole year, and not only do I end him, I get him slapped around because of my poor behaviour. hi.lar.i.ous.
All that was left was for me to spend an hour on Sunday afternoon fetching from the pool: 2 decks of cards, a newspaper and a really siff used paper napkin.
