The bartender was a short, notably fat woman. She’d wear tight jeans, which had the effect of making her stomach spill out over the waist-band.


She’d leave the counter, saunter over to the tables, and dole out a hot slap to an unsuspecting brawdy customer. Clearly, years of association with deceiptful customers had robbed her of that nurturing compassion which women are reportedly born with.

One evening, I entered her bar, asked for a jug of beer, and drained it. Reaching in my pocket for money, I found emptiness.

“Pole, ni kama nimeibiwa,” I told Shiro.

“Heee!” she screamed, and moved out of the counter through the half-door.

Things began to happen very quickly.

So what happened next? Ama alikunua na kukishake kama vile mama mboga hutoa maji kwa sukuma?

Nice writing.

Nice writing.
Hii ni Ile ya primary composition " a day I will never forget"

Nice writing, I can commission you to write a book

This one belongs to a collection of African shortest stories.