A(nother) prostitute who, coincidentally, is
called Wanja, angrily banged on Aleki’s door
while holding a blunt weapon in her hand,
asking him to open up and pay her for last
night’s service. Aleki, yawning from a nap,
opened the door, wearing only a black and
blue pair of basketball shorts. The prostitute
grabbed him by the waistband of his shorts
and dragged him several inches from the
door, swearing to kill him if he did not
immediately produce that KES 500 he owed
her. She made it clear that she didn’t give a
flying fuck about where he intended to get the
money from.
But Aleki is smart.
He knew that prostitutes are vicious mongrels
when boiling in anger, and his life was in
danger, and he had no money. So he decided
to confuse the prostitute by telling her that he
feels things for her.
“I respect your hustle, Wanja, but because of
these feelings, paying you would make me feel
like I am demeaning you, like I see you as a
prostitute,” Aleki argued, with a palm on the
left side of his chest.
While licking his lips like LL Cool J, he went
on to tell her that he knew that deep down
inside her, was a woman who could make a
good girlfriend and a great wife. He assured
her that even though she covered herself in
cheap make up and mkorogo, what mattered
to him was the inner beauty he saw in her,
like her forgiving spirit.
“Are you serious?” the flattered prostitute
asked.
“As serious as a brain tumour.”
“So you’ve loved me all this time?”
“With all my heart. And me not paying you is
not because I don’t have money, but because I
value you.”
Wanja, in a sexy move, flipped her blonde,
curly, synthetic mane to reveal an earlobe
with a hundred piercings, and used a neon
green talon to remove a strand stuck in her
false eyelashes, then told Aleki that she liked
him too and that she was ready to move in
with him this weekend.
“I am travelling this weekend,” Aleki lied.
“It’s okay, you can just give me the keys,”
Wanja told him.
But Aleki is smart.
He told her that he cares for her too much to
bring her to his house and live in sin. He told
her that he could not disrespect her and her
family in that manner. He told her that he
wanted to do it the right way; that they would
live together once they got married.
The prostitute giggled in excitement and said
that she understood. She promised that she
would wait.
Then they decided to have drinks later on in
the evening before she went to work.
And Wanja left with a skip in her gait and a
smile on her heavily lipsticked lips.
www.wanjakavengi.co.ke/2016/02/01/prostitutes-are-vicious-mongrels-when-boiling-in-anger/