Let Me Explain: The Broke Guy In Da Club

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So I went to the club this weekend. Yes, Inini dragged his ass all the way across town to get into a club. Only that my circumstances were a bit different from those of the regulars. I’m a broke person! This means that I have to live within my means. Going to a club is an extreme sport, but I’m game lol!

I decided to hit one of the upmarket clubs. I had to have a story to tell on Monday at work when I take a break from bricklaying, its important! First things first, my budget was pretty slim. Like I said, “I went to the club this weekend”. I did not go clubbing. I had a $5 bond note when I exited the house. For those who do not understand how much shit I was in already, let me explain.

First of all I get the starter pack. That is a star of MJ and a 10pack of Pacific Breeze. The Pacific is the loaded into an Everest box because hey, I gotta look fly too! That’s a dollar down. I then proceed to the club, high from the breath of life. At the door, its $2 to get in. The big guy at the door does not want to hear any funny stories. All he wants is his money then the stamp falls on the arm. I can’t afford to pay the admission fee, therefore I go round the back. There is a waiter throwing out some garbage. I stop him and ask if he smokes weed. This dumbo says yes and my golden ticket into the club is a very thin spliff which will do to him what one shot does toddler, deadly.

Getting into the club from the back is not an easy task. The guys in the kitchen must not notice you. The manager should not also notice you coming out a “STAFF ONLY” entrance whilst you are wearing a YMCMB tshirt and fake a Converses. But you know us, the ghetto youths. Sleek and silent (That’s why most of us are thieves). As soon as I hit the interior, its lit fam! Nice looking yellow items shaped like a Coke bottle designed by Da Vinci (An African Da Vinci, because you know white people and small asses!).

When you are high there are two items that hit you almost simultaneously. That is drymouth and munches! These two things are deadly, especially  to a broke guy in an expensive club. I walk to the bar and damn the prices are way out of my range. A bottle f water is a dollar. A fizzy drink is going for $1.50! Let’s not even talk about beers, I had resorted to not drinking because the airlock would have been painful.

If you were following me well, you know that I was left with $2. MJ, cigarettes, transport to and fro all snatched $3 from me. With $2 there is nothing you can do in a club except buy condoms, go to the dance floor to whine with a lady looks like she probably owns a car and hope she will want some D afterwards. That is exactly what I did!

 

Kirkpatrick Chidamba

Kirkpatrick Chidamba

Free Thinker. Loud. Another inhabitant of Terra Firma. I am not your favourite person. Neither do I plan to be. But you will know my opinion. In fact, you will love it.

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