THE WAITRESS STORY

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This event happened in real time. I don’t even know what that line means. But I am at this bar, and then this girl who on all fronts happened to be lightskinned and beautiful turns out to be the waitress.

I never took so long to decide what I would drink. Something wasn’t normal. I think lightskinned girls have an advantage over their dark skinned girls. They quickly stand out, and because of their colour, you may not notice other flaws on their bodies like the ipad booty or the missing boobs.

To cut the long story short, this girl was just average. But hey, I was drinking. Every bottle made her climb a level higher on the hotness scale as I climbed another on the horniness scale.

This is how the conversation went. It has two versions. How the sober me remembers it and how the drink affected me remembers it.

SOBER VERSION
Me: hey you look superb, You should come sit next to me
Girl: mmmmmmhhhh am working
Me: are you a munyarwanda?
Girl: not really, my mother is.
Me: your name must have an A in it
Girl: yeah am Tasha
Me: give me your number
Tasha: gonna give it to you later

Sober me reads her last statement to mean that she’s using her number as a bargaining tool to make me take more beers.

This is how the BEERED ME remembers it. Since it wasn’t me speaking but the beer, beer become a personal pronoun.

Beer: hotty cutie bby u r amazing. Do you have Gold Label coz u r gold my gal.

Girl: nooo gold label.

Beer: y u not drinking, shld buy my rwandan countrygirl a drink. Whats ya name

Girl: am Natasha

Beer: u ave an airtel number. We shld go back together today

Girl: yes but later

Beer me interprets her last sentence to mean that I am having a pre-budget reading of this girl at my place.

Time check, we got to go. I keep on standing up to go to the loos and keeping an eye on my Tasha lest some hyenas steal her.

I still don’t have Tasha’s number. I come back to my seat. Raise my arm to call her. I am now applying the worst case scenario. In the worst case scenario, I always lie to girls. I tell her my phone is gonna black out, she either gives me her number or keeps her peace forever.

But by the time I had called her. She was already headed to my side. She’d written her number on a piece of paper with her full name. I guess this is her business card, except it’s hand written. She tells me her bosses must not see her give me her number. She takes out her hand and pulls off an eye blinding stunt and places her number in my hands. Her fingers were just so smooth.

Am now celebrating, ave gotten Tasha’s number. By this time, my head is heavy, I can only think of sleep. I figure out, I can call her later in the night and we do the budget reading.

I call nga she’s not picking. My friend tells me light skinned girls are like that. You must have a degree in communication to make them pick your phones or reply yo messages. I craft a message to tell her am the guy she just fell for at the bar. And am a Lannister, Lannisters always pay their debts.

Next thing I remember, it’s morning time. Am in my bed. I turn to my pillow thinking it’s Tasha by my side then reality hits me, no Tasha, no budget reading happened.

I quickly dial Tasha again. She’s not picking. So why the fuvkin ffff did she give me her number if she cant pick? Am annoyed. In desperation, I begin dialing my Plan Bs and Plan Cs. Those emergency girls. They are not picking too or some are too far.

Tasha then beeps back. Guess she’d just woken up. I call back. She says she’s home in Kisasi. Woooowwwe that’s so near my place. I am beer happy. This is the day that beer made the day before.

But she says she’s busy. I tell her to cut her crap. I command her to beep me back when she’s free once again. She calls me later on. She’s now at work. So she thinks I could meet her at the workplace and buy more beers. Am not that of a fool Tasha.

I insist that we shall only meet at mine or hers. She says it’s only possible on Monday when she’s always off. Am like Tyrion Lannister, update your Monday calender: bang Tasha on Monday in her own house.

Friends Monday is yet to come and when it does, I will update you on what happens. When you are chasing for leg, you lose time, airtime, moneytime and writing time plus reading time. Please Tasha, let Monday be Monday. We’ve already come so far not to reach that orgasmic peak together. As I write this, am saying my daily hail marys and preparing for the budget reading on Monday with Tasha my minister of dickynurse.

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