Last week I promised to do something very important.
And, unlike so many other people, I tend to keep my promises (most of the time). So, as promised, here are the rest of the stories that Chad and Ryan told me.
Ryan recently played in a cricket match against a school in a bad area (what a horrible pattern). And in the middle of the cricket pitch was the gnarliest thorn bush you can imagine. It was the height of a tall table and, to make things worse, instead of painting the white line in front of the thorn bush, it was painted behind it. So Ryan had to bat in front of it, which resulted in him falling into the bush. Later on in the game, Ryan bowled a foul ball (or whatever they call it) but the ball flew past the midget batsman and hit the wicket. Of course they let the man continue playing. We lost the game.
At another cricket match, Chad was playing, like Ryan, in a bad neighbourhood. He says he saw a vagrant standing against a wall covered in graffiti by “The Rushians” (somebody didn’t pass third grade) at the edge of the pitch. But what was strange about this man was that he broke a beer bottle against the wall and began sharpening it. Right in the middle of the match. Then he broke another one and did the same. Since Chad was fielding, towards the end of the game, the ball rolled towards the man and landed right at his feet.
At another Cricket match, at our school this time, there was a lady who sat in one of the holes that housed our palm trees. Ryan noticed that throughout the match, she kept rocking back and forth, probably out of the nerves. And towards the end of the match she finally fell back, with her chair, into the hole, exposing her pudenda for the world to see. She dies. I joke.
On another day, though, Ryan was home alone with his sister and they were running low on supplies (ha, ha), so they had to restock thus they went to Woolworths or Spar. They arrive at the store and get all the items that they need. All of a sudden, two Rastafarians burst into the store and start singing at the top of their lungs. At the end of it, all they bought was a lemon. The store manager said to Ryan, “Oh, the come every night.” Later on that night, a man with lazy eyes ran into Ryan with his trolley to get to the till. When he got there, he began unpacking the contents of his trolley, like everyone else. But what was strange about this particular scenario was that there was no cashier working at his till…
Chad told me a story that involves one of his family members. His paternal grandpapa was driving past on of the most dangeroux places near the airport, when he was involved in an accident. People around the area contacted emergency services, and the ambulance made its way over to the scene. But when they got there, they found out that Chad’s grandpapa’s false teeth had been stolen.
Then Ryan told me a story about his 56 year old maid who has been working for Ryan’s family since his 20 year old sister was born. He says that she’s never going to leave, so he’s just waiting for her to die. She’s also afraid of heights, to the extent that she struggles to climb their staircase. And their staircase, for some odd reason, doesn’t have railings, so she goes down on all fours with a broom in hand and stuffs a dustpan into her bra and climbs the stairs with a broom. Ryan says that she once had to sell a memory card to buy a second hand memory card.
So there you go. I’ve kept some stories to myself, but if you want me to, I could persuade Ryan and Chad to let me publish more of their stories. Let me know in the comments.
Goodier, Moi Mentil Mind.