A big kid wants to get on the ride, but his dad is worried. I’m on biggie’s side, I want to watch him ride. In waiting, I turn and look down to see a figure in a pram plastering an average smile on its plastic face. The pram pusher is too busy hoovering sweets into her beak for me to ask a question so I look back up at the ride and wham! Hulk Hogans green boetie whistles through me with excitement as he steps off of the merry go round kid thing. Fokkit, I stumble away and lift my head to the wailing of the odd boy out. The giggles of yellow toothed onlookers in his tears remind me of a time. Poor little oke, out of place and confused.
And so, the day goes on…
The fat feet hammering down to get in line and be on time are killing the vibe down below.
All the sad ants wanted to make friends with me. Please, save us from the swelling quadrupeds.
I felt bad that I knew and chose to ignore, but I had some sort of job to do.
I forgot where I was so I spun around and scatter scanned for a clue.
Where am I? And who are you?
I grabbed a kid and shook him till he dribbled soft youth into his smooth armpit.
Swimming in the random vomit, his stomach boiled. Prepare the comet!
I’m waiting for the lightning to blow a hole in the middle of my head! I shouted at him.
He giggled, shat himself and blew up like a zit.
His younger smaller sister, who was swimming in the puss on his chin, fell over and played dead.
What’s with Afrikaners nowadays?
I used to get a poesklap for being a Rooinek. And I liked it. Preparation for future hatred in this country.
Something is missing…
Snap out of reminiscing!
The pear shaped mother of the two waddled my way while waxing her tongue through the air.
Her hair in slow motion, mesmerised I was. The purple pink compartments of candy coloured feathers are masters of distraction. A magic display for the untrained eye.
How long did that take and was it worth it?
How does it make her feel?
Was she trying to attract the males or compete with the other females?
You get locked in. With no way out you unwillingly bow down and give in to the peacock kop. That’s her vice grip and she knows it.
Never underestimate the power of self expression through the hairstyle.
I broke through for a second and focused on the face.
She does her best to distract from the loneliness of below the brow.
Her mouth slants down in the shape of an upside down U.
Her left eye klaps skew.
Not sure if she’s checking out the oke next to you, or you.
Her feet swell through the dainty pink shoe.
Her movement is that of take your pick from the zoo.
Now, with her right eye she looks through you.
Sacred symbols hang on a silver chain from the triple chin.
No win in her presence for those who revel in sin.
I catch a quick reflection in her trinkets and see slugs shuffle from stall to stall.
The boertjies take a stab at my reflection while the bellies of their bosses level the beers. A pity I gave up the booze or we would of had a good conversation about who’s who in this zoo.
The wind was with me as it spun me around asking where I wanted to press my face. The mother was occu-pied eating, my chance to escape.
Do you want to go to the doughnut stall? No.
Do you want to go to the sokkie jol? No.
Do you want to get stuck in the ruck and mall? No.
Do you want to sit next to Oom Paul? No.
My brain was losing its liquid. My brain, my pip.
The hyper squeals from twelve year olds had my head spinning and I lost my grip.
A skinny biltong legged tannie sat on my head for pleasure. Or periscope?
Neck snapped and I ate my way down my body.
Something smells like meat in a sock. I follow a look-a-like right said Fred.
Her name I guess Marlene woven in women things and smelling of other things.
I envy the khaki okes with balls deep boeps who are likely to claim her.
Birds of a fat feather forget about the weather when weather is wet and wild.
A man with a plaster next to his eye seems to have whispered his thoughts out loud.
Was he with me?
The shadows of three wobbled and danced against the doughnut stall.
The lard lord mother circled back around and grumbled and squirted a flat pigeon out of her neck crease. She was back and putting that rear to use. Knocking half pints into orbit.
The pigeon flew over me chirping ‘freedom!’
I managed to spring up and bite it on the tail.
The pigeon pecked my left eye deeper into the socket.
I couldn’t see where we were going.
I swivelled my eye to look at my brain and the liquid was running low.
I knew the pigeon was going to plummet.
It had been living off fat oil for years. It needs protein.
I offered it my right eye. Pigeon ate it and dropped me into my motorhome.
On the inside of the back of my head I see the thoughts:
This playground revolving around sugar rush and fever of baby tjoklits is too much for me.
Lie down fat head.