the birthday


“What did you say?”

“I said today is my birthday.”

“You don’t mean it! And we’re here all wordy, why aren’t we drunk already?”

“Ah, it’s not my style to do that.”

“So, what’s your style?”

“No plan actually. I have no plan for now.”

“It seems to me you could use a plan then. Why can’t we go clubbing? I have a friend who could organize girls from the campus nearby. Let’s call our friends.”

“No-no-no… No! Don’t do that. Let’s just sit down and reflect over our lives.”

“Hughhh… Are you kidding me? Fuck that! That ain’t my own style. My style is to drink myself to coma on my birthday, not some stupid…”

“But that will be ridiculous. What’s the point in that? Where’s the celebration if we’re drunk to a point of coma?”

“What’s the point if we’re not and just sitting down reflecting over some shitty hell of a stupid… Like someone awaiting his HIV test result. Wake up buddy!”

“Alcoholism is not allowed in my religion and it’ll be stupid to insult God in appreciation for sparing my life till date.”

“What are you saying? Who is discussing religion with you here? If this is what you call your style, you’ve got no style man. My own religion doesn’t approve of it totally either but God is not against celebrating one’s birthday, is He?”

“No of course, unless it’s the one robbing us of common sense and driving us to coma.”

“Nawa o, well, it’s your funeral then, enjoy it.”

“No, it’s not my funeral, it’s my birthday.”

“Whatever! I’m hitting the road.”

“Okay, later then.”

“Funny guy. Mtchewwwww…”



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