Desert storm

In a desert far away, a huge group of humans had camped to take a break.  They’d been going around in circles and no one really knew what in the world they were doing or where they were going. It was going on 40 years and the circles continued. Understandably, many of them had become certified nuts. 

(Use present tense now. Its cool to do that). 

Like this gray man, sitting in this tent. He is smocking on something that suspiciously looks like and smells like hashish. The fumes would choke any normal person but then again, this dude is not exactly normal. He is listening to the esoteric lyrics of Bone Thugs N Harmony, a decade after those loons were relegated to yesterday by all cool people. The radio is hidden under what looks like a brown basket and the old man’s dirty dust-covered feet lie carelessly on top of the basket. 

This picture is surely supposed to be shattered. And surely it is. A scruffy young man with wild eyes and wild locks falling over themselves in his eyes bursts into the serene environs of the tent. His silhouette stands defiantly against the bright light cast by the angry sun outside. The sun is pushing the youth and peeking into the tent as though to collect last month’s rent. 

(Revert to past tense now). 

“They are saying, and I quote,” the youth panted, “Did you bring us out of Egypt, just to let us die in the desert? There’s no water out here, and we can’t stand this awful food!” 

The old man, who looked a little like Mr Miyagi but with a little more attitude was first startled, “I am very startled!” then he got really angry, “I am now veeeery angry,” he bellowed. 

“Can you stand by your testimony in a court of law?” he asked the young man as he yanked the earphones out of his ears and started to pull a tunic over his fake beard. Down went the old khaki fabric over the Levis he had just donned this morning after his experience in the Jacuzzi in back. 

Young Man looked at him and felt like laughing. “Is that supposed to make me laugh?” he demanded? “Like real guffaws?” 

Then he told him what the real problem was. The people were not impressed with the way Andrew Mwenda-wannabe Kasyate came around to do The Big Story on the 9.00 oclock news and stayed around forever when he knew perfectly well that everyone else wanted to see Scarlet Ortiz. 

“Scarlet what?” the guy whose beard could pass for Miyagi’s asked. 

“Camilla, silly.” 

“But why would they want to worship Camilla when her friend is hotter?” 

The old man with a fake beard stormed out of the tent. For a moment, he almost tripped over the black TV power cord on the floor but he regained his balance. He went and stood on a high place. Everyone knew it as The High Place, actually. 

He pulled out his foghorn and blew… 

The snakes came out. Big snakes, tiny snakes, wiry snakes, short snakes, they all came out. Their leader came up to the fake bearded man and said, “’Sup boss. What will it be this time?” 



About Steven

It wasn't me; arrest the voices. It was the voices in my head. Sike! I am Ugandan first. I care for development in my country. I am a curious observer second and I care to know what you think.
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6 Responses to Desert storm

  1. duksey says:

    jst to say woooooooooooooooowwwwwww!!!!!!!
    Firsty!!!! i ll comment later

  2. country boyi says:

    i must confess this is too smart for me. i mean i don’t understand it. but i like it.

  3. Fujitsu says:

    @ country boyi: it’s about snakes and Camilla… don’t tell me you can’t see the elephant in the room.

  4. Phantom:

    Either you’ve been reading a lot of Rushdie – Salman Rushdie – or you’ve landed on some other disrespectful allegorical work.
    Still, this shit is hot. How could you write my genre, my kind of shit, and I didn’t even get the sokies?
    Okay, anachronistic magic realism is so fuckin’ hot, and so are all who write it. Fumbs up.

  5. lucy says:

    my goodness, try writing an adulterate version of exodus, it would prolly face the scanning eyes and uproar of the church like jesus christ superstar! very intersting
    i like!

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