Monster Chef

Warning: This post contains nudity and unsanitary words and  will likely leave you and your cat unconscious…..

running zibah ii

“Hey Blood, I’m on my way to Lagos and I’m crashing at your place for a few days. I should be at your zone in about 4 hours; give or take an  hour”

“Yo! Kenny. Uhm! Sure” I responded

I’m usually reluctant to have people in my personal space for more than a few hours but Kenny isn’t people. I had met him about a year ago at the send-forth of a mutual friend and we struck up a fast strong friendship. I’m currently on a “break” from work so there has been zero; meetings, traffic mishaps, bad ‘mama-put’ lunches and weirdly I have not seen Jessie (won’t be shocked if she calls me with an International number to announce she just got married to some guy she met 5 minutes ago and is currently having her ring tattooed on her butt cheek) so yeah, I was bored stiff. Coupled with the fact that I had not caused anyone grief recently and you have me in full-blown depressed mode.

Few hours later…

“Huh! You are in my house punk; free rent, free booze, free ps3…..and you asking me to cook for 2. You crazy?”

That was me bitching about being drafted maid duties by Kenny, I actually love cooking and was prepared to make something boring till I saw Kenny propped up on my favorite chair, drinking my favorite fruity vodka and pressing my ps3 pad a little too hard as he tried to defeat Raven in “Injustice: Gods among us“. Was he planning on damaging the pad? I thought absently. Are you wearing my shorts Kenny? I had totally forgotten that Kenny was the exact replica of Jessie minus the boobs, ass and painted nails so the concept of personal space was as foreign to them as martian virgins. Martian virgins….you know……virgins on Mars, get it?? I must be addicted to pain, if not I should have murdered them eons ago and I haven’t so something must be fundamentally wrong with me, right?

I walked up to my ps3 console and turned it off before I remembered I was supposed to shut the system down properly or I could ruin the memory. Aaaargh! That settles it, he was cooking till he departed my apartment.

“Bro, why na?” he whined.

Without responding I grabbed his ears good-naturedly and directed his head towards my small kitchen and gave his backside a swift kick while dodging the swings aimed for my head. The oaf was laughing and boasting of his culinary skills while reminding me that my best cooking could give a healthy human a bad case of ulcer. I would have scoffed if I didn’t know that there was wisdom in his words. I made my way to my favorite chair, dusted his butt-print and scent off it and sat down comfortably and finished his drink then I walked to my ps3 rubbed her (the PS 3) and murmured sweet nonsense as she scanned her memories and booted right up (what, you haven’t figured out that I’m a hopeless geek with issues?) I selected DMC and settled right in. Shortly after, dinner was ready. Kenny had made rice with some funky sauce with spices I didn’t even know I had, we microwaved the cold turkey in the freezer. The rice was amazing though I made sure not to compliment him, his ego was big enough for 3. We talked into the night after which I retired to my room to work on some mock designs.

Chow-Fried-Rice
Of course his rice did not look this good

…. and in an unholy hour

I woke up with a start, I was sweating and my stomach was making unearthly sounds, I stood up from my bed and instantly had a large bout of gas escape from both openings of my alimentary canal, what the.., I felt a tug in my abdomen and seconds later I was dashing for the toilet. I had just sat down when i remembered that the disposal pipe was not connected to the bowl yet. Dammit! There are 2 toilets in my apartment; one in my room and the other close to the extra bedroom. I was having mine renovated (I saw a cool water system and decided to have it installed) so it was out of service. I cursed inwardly and ran for the spare toilet in my birthday suit (it’s my apartment). I was literally moving at the speed of light. I threw open the toilet door and stormed inside only to see it was occupied by Kenny, his eyes rimmed red and both hands braced against the wall for support.

zibah cool toilet
Pretty cool huh?

“Dude what the fuck did you put in my food and get the fucking fuck fuck out of the fucking toilet” I screamed in panic while dancing around.

“Shut up. I feel like I’m going to die. Did you stock up expired spices? I’ve been here for 20 minutes” he half-choked.

I would have laughed at this scene if I wasn’t literally plugging my behind with my fingers. Kenny looked totally exhausted while I heaped curses at him and promised to spill his blood after I got my turn. At this point, i wasn’t aware (concerned) that I was in the same space with someone taking a dump…. 5 secs after Kenny vacated his seat, I was spilling my gut and cursing the universe and Kenny in between grunts from my “seat of power”. Of course he was insulting me back. The dude had no sense of self-preservation.

What felt like a life time later and after a shower, I was lying on the floor of my living-room exhausted, Kenny had his body scattered on my favorite chair (I’m going to have a word with him about that chair). I felt like I was run over by a truck. “We made it” I said. Seconds later we were laughing hysterically and throwing light jibes at each other.

I have a somewhat fragile stomach but whatever toxin found its way into that food must have been potent enough to fell a horse because Kenny can usually stomach anything short of poison. At 5am I made my way back to my room, pulled out my tablet and drafted this post.

PS: I know this is a disgusting post and I apologize for shocking your fragile senses. Forgive me….. I did warn you though.

Zibah!

6 thoughts on “Monster Chef

  1. Yes, it was a disgusting and ‘smelly’ post. No, you are not sorry for shocking our fragile sense. You knew the minute we read the warning, that we were bound to read it, that our curiosity would rise to levels unprecedented, that we would read, laugh, and forgive you 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s