National Scar Day? You must be Kidding

Some people just don't know how to f*ck and shut the f*ck up. They will be howling about it for the next six months, especially if the guy they screwed happens to appear frequently on television or in the newspapers. I will qualify my use of such crude language by telling you a very short interesting story (not a f*cking story).

Once upon a time in Mpumalanga was a girl that I liked. She was petite with that innocense that is dangerous when you are dealing with politicians. I use politicians because if someone can seduce 100 000 people, who the fuck do you think you are when left one-on-one with him in a room. He'll strip the kanga off your curvesous butt in a second and later plead culture.

So this girl that I liked happened to land a cushy job with a mayor - for real. She became his PA, which in some circles is defined as a sperm dish. So, if the mayor was going to China or Tibet she would be the chick arranging his meetings and stressing him and the driver of the cavalcade to rush to the next meeting. The thing about this girl was that she was not really as smart as some of the PAs I know. She was the type that would be charmed by a Butt Simpson tie on a Jeep shirt.

To cut a long story short - suspisions that the mayor was screwing started making rounds. You know when ghetto people want charges to stick on you they'll even use superglue on Teflon. So, this girl never really got to face a Truth Commission but she sold off the story in a conversation we had the other day. We were watching television in the corridor of some glitzy hotel waiting to be allocated our rooms. The show was from Reality TV and about scars. There was this sod who had scars all over he should have been nicknamed Scarbody, since calling him Scarface would have meant demeaning his trophies.

Then the PA chick just goes, 'you know, my boss also has so many scars on his lower back and belly which he says were inflicted when some assassins attempted to kill him five years ago. They are bloody scary'. You should have seen us suspisious beings exchanging glances and asking her what the occassion was? 'Uh-uh'. So we tried to help her out, 'Was it on National Scar Day whereby everybody shows somebody their scars?'. She looked at us with gross stupidity written all over her face.

It could have beena scoop for Riot Hlatswayo and Daily Sun but for us - well, we always knew the guy spend his cold nights stuck between those thighs, we just didn't know his body was an artwork - hahahaha.