THE MUG.
The cobweb filled bulbs inside the pub keeps on flickering, going on and off as they please. But nobody seems to care let alone even notice. Outside it is still raining, the kind often deemed as cats and dogs but yet again nobody cares. It is that day of the week when all that matters is women, booze and more booze. Thursday. Member’s day. I am seated alone at my table. My keg mug is still full. It has been like that for the past 20 minutes or so and this is weird because i am not the type that baby sits a drink. Beside me near the window pane there is a young fly completely soaked in water. It is struggling for its dear life, flapping its wings trying to fly. I highly doubt it will make it through the night.
The bartender is back with my bill. A young petite ebony woman. Her short skirt reminds me of the tennis girls i used to coach sometimes back. She is smiling at me. I notice but i can’t smile back. It’s not that i am playing hard to get or anything, i am just not in the mood. She notices and her smile turns into a frown. She places the receipt on the table, clicks and leaves, swaying her curvaceous body seductively as if to say: this is what you are turning down. For a moment my thoughts are held captive by her backside. My eyes follow her skirt and i can tell she has a bright future behind her. She disappears to another table. The next time i see her she is hitting it off with men from another table. Slut. My thoughts come back to me; I stare at my full keg mug, unable to even take a sip.
I turn to notice that the fly on the window pane has died. Fellow flies have turned up to pay their last respects. They are buzzing around it. Some trying to push it up not wanting to believe that their loved one has died so young. It’s such a pity. Seconds later they all fly away. I turn to my keg mug and in one take i gallop it all down my throat. Finally.
I should probably head home for a good night’s sleep, but who wants to go home to a cold bed? Maybe i should order for a second mug of keg, and have the bartender with the big behind escort me home or maybe not.
I stand to leave but pain shoots through my head and i sink back to my seat. I stand then fall again, this time on the cold already soiled pub floor. I am struggling to stand with each attempt sending me back to the ground. You should see me; I am like an infant learning its first walking steps. This is weird. I am the kind that drinks and drives home. I am my own designated driver, but now i can’t even stand?
Newton’s gravity is not letting me go anytime soon. So i decide it is better i make myself comfortable on the floor. I am dozing off. My head is getting heavy. I bet i look like a Chinese with my barely open eyes. The rest of the revelers are up on their feet. They are all heading to the dance floor. Something seems to have caught their attention. I literally crawl to the dance floor to get a glimpse of the seemingly strange view.
There is a girl dancing with a strange man and the two seem to have the attention of the revelers in their pockets. The girl is twisting her body in very bizarre ways, jerking herself like she has no bone on her body. Her partner in crime seems to know her next move even before she showcases it and is there to catch her.
The revelers have their eyes glued on these two, me included. I can’t make out their faces but watching them reminds me of Trizah. We used to own this very pub with our eccentric and electrifying dance moves. Seeing all the attention focused on these two somehow makes me feel jealous.

Standing up has proven to be an arduous task for me, but after a series of attempts i am up on my feet. I have decided – its best that i go home. I am staggering towards the counter and as i turn my back the revelers behind me go into a loud cheer. I turn to see what’s causing the ruckus, and i almost fall again if not for the chairs. I steady myself and focus my eyes on the dance floor, what i see makes me believe that clearly i have had too much to drink.
Ever since i came screaming out of my mom’s womb i have been drinking keg and never has it ever made me see the things i am seeing now. The strange man has his left hand ripped off by the girl. The revelers seem not to be moved at all by this bizarre act, instead they are busy jeering the girl to go on. As for the man he is just standing there emotionless and lifeless like a rug doll.
Strange enough pain shoots through my left hand. Blood oozes. My eyes apprehensively dart from my left shoulder to the dance floor, back to my shoulder then again to the dance floor. The girl on the dance floor stares straight into mine, a devilish grin dancing on her lips, it’s her, its Trizah, and that scarecrow of a guy standing emotionless on the dance floor is me. I must be dreaming. No. These are not the effects of alcohol.
Let me let you in on a little secret. Trizah is dead. She has been dead for the past two weeks. I know these because i knocked her out cold with a shovel, buried her and rode off into the sunset.
Trizah grabs the right hand of the guy on the dance floor and twists it. The revelers cheer. Pain shoots on my right hand. My breathing rate is increasing; i mumble some words that even i myself can’t even make out what they mean. From a distance the table where i had sat before comes into view, the mug is still there, the flies are back and they are buzzing around it. Trizah jerks of the guy’s right hand and my own hand falls as well. The revelers are now up in a roar stamping the floor with their hands up in the air. Trizah smiles and goes for the guy’s limbs. Outside the rain begins to fall again. The bulbs flicker and go off.

MAURICE MUTHIANI.
31-July-2015-Friday.

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