It was a typical Tuesday evening after my liver had just enjoyed the pampering and relaxing feeling of rest from the usual donkey work for two nights. In fact, my brain knew that the well branded enemy was about to be poured down my thirsty throat in a matter of minutes.
I picked up a well signed bottle and my thirst had a tingling feeling as it couldn’t wait to start the booze war battles. I downed the usual Guinness in a gallop and walked towards the table to pick another bottle. It was now that my Guinean friend, Ben knocked the door shouting about the need to clear a few Bond 7 enemies. It would only be stupid not to go to war alongside another general which is why I opened the door to my kafunda.
The liqour incited Kaboozi about how babes need to stop pretending to be sophisticated and drink water with ice and lemons at the bar. These stories aided I and general Ben to down Guinness bottles and the first zinge of Bond 7. In a true alcohol spirit I was not shy to open the second Bond 7 with a smile.
In my happiness, Maya calls about stress from tests and I give her the classic “and how can I help you?” phrase. She then says she is near the kafunda with some extra bombs and a wrath in case any of us die. Maya knocks and a smile hit my face when she unleashed some well dried flowers. You see, Jeff’s flowers blend in so well with alcohol that the ascent to mountain heights is much faster. The only challenge is that even the most powerful Cologne struggles to overshadow their ‘scent.’
At this point, my body was literally fighting with my brain because the level of intelligence was beyond what some muscles can contain. My tummy is detonating grenades of hunger, but the throat feels clouded with Jeff nukes and the brain wants soldiers to descent to down from the lips to battle in the tummy.
The brain keeps asking my legs to get the entire body off the carpet but the knees are laughing at the mockery of brain, which leaves me in a state of uncertainty. Maya and general Ben seem to be convinced that trying to stretch their hands will give themselves selves Mr. Fantastic powers to be able to reach their equivalents of ‘bean’. The knees lift the body up but the brain wants to dance to the loudly playing Olamide’s Bobo but the waist held some war sanctions against the legs which brought the general to back to the floor. It’s now that Ben decides to take the battle to the supper joint.
My eyes are now adjacent to Maya’s upper top but the brain’s request to transfer it’s duties to the second boneless brain are in vain due to the numb hands and legs. Clearly this battle was not about to end. I reached for some Rwenzori labelled ‘linment’ and I was good to go.
My body woke up about 3 hours later tasking my brain to explain why it was in a natural setting. But I guess only one soldier knows but I can’t be so certain. It’s now that my lips signed a treaty with Jeff’s flowers not to ever cross borders but my brain knows it was signed under the influence of alcohol which means nullification is easy.
Surely the battle was over but I had to go the usual bar to finish the war. Till when my hands are not holding a bottle or fighting a booze war will you hear from me again.
