FROTHY DRINKS: BEHAVIOURS AND HAZARDS

Frothy drinks are an awesome friend who is at beck and call of every drinker [I will not use drunkard because there are classes]. I have a very good relationship with this friend, we live harmoniously enjoying each other’s time. We used to do it for long until Mututho the party pooper popped in to the scene.  Now our time is always limited, which is good for my pockets and disastrous for my gut.  We are here to analyze devils drink and how it pulls tricks a master magician cannot see.

Plot: Gat four thao ready to get wasted

I used to pop in to party scene long after everyone had blacked out but nowadays I am there long before anyone feels the need to drink [reasons most obvious]. I have the usual suspects G and L. We leave the digz at around 6; 30 heading to Tao for a good night out. We are in L’s jalopy which apparently lacks enough ngataa so we wish somebody could volunteer some cash so that we later make it to westy. Nobody does so it never happens.

We are really plot less so we pop in to jazz to deliberate on what will happen. Now the story begins.

I grab a tusker as we hold the intellectual talk, with its low alcoholic content, you won’t realize, You are on water or beer, in a few minutes it’s gone. The stomach welcomes it with

Ululations, I can imagine the conversation they are having

Stomach: Hey buddy, we meet again. I love you no troubles, just two of us please keep coming

Tusker: You can count on me dude, I never disappoint

I grab my second bottle of tusker while we are still in jazz  and while I am on it a plan creeps out.

Why don’t we visit those seedy joints in backstreets of Tom mboya or Luthuli Avenue and give our minds something to do. Kutoa cobweb. And Luthuli we go. Uninspiring bars with matron like barmaids with big bums, generous chests, loud voices and large palms which can slap your drunk self over the balcony in to the street. Here the drinks come cheap and they are toxic. I grab a napoleon brandy which I dilute with a sprite to disguise the burning sensation which flows down your throat. What do they use to make this stuff? I have started spoiling the party for the stomach.

                Stomach; What are you doing here? Haven’t I warned you enough times?

                Napoleon: Relax buddy, I won’t cause any trouble, my brothers will do be forewarned

                Stomach: Nckt!!!!!!

I continue with my dangerous concoction till I am done, you cannot afford to have two of them or your night will be over before it begins. We depart and head to Heartz, this is never a good Idea. There is a certain bouncer there who hates me and I hate him threefold. He freezes me and we head to Seasons which aint a bad place expect that you stay there for a few minutes and a claustrophobic feeling attacks you. Here I get Smirnoff Vodka. You would like to imagine you are somewhere in Moscow but you are still in Nairobi when you get a vodka. It aint very nice coupled with its predecessor, Naps.

                Stomach: Your friend Brandy is already in, please don’t fight I beg you.

                Smirnoff: Why do you care to inform me? This place reeks of his stench. I am knocking off his teeth.

A battle ensues; I start staggering and noticing imaginary stars everywhere. Suddenly every girl there becomes a supermodel. In my drunken stupor I knock off waiters drinks while I am attempting some music I don’t know of. Most likely some raga by those Jamaican weed-gods. I am thrown out and my friends follow me. We head to Bettyz. The bouncers have already loosened up because its late. Earlier they would have demanded cash saying we are underage. I go and perch myself on a bar stool and order some tots of something I don’t know or I can’t read.

                Stomach: Who the fuck is you? I have already had enough.

                ???????? Do I care? The fact is am here, get ready to get down

                Stomach: Oh my God?!!!

Then a light bulb clicks on my brain. The kind you see on cartoons meaning a very bright idea. I grab tequila!

                Stomach: Holy mango, pineapples, mucho tequila?! What do you want now?

                Stomach: Im dead meat!!!!

The commotion which ensues I can hear it with my ears. Tequila is the party spoiler. Hell breaks loose. I puke on a nice chick all over her breasts and somebody gets it on a camera. The next thing I remember is on my pad asking ‘Why does my head hurt?’