Humour: Dancing with the devil

I remember when Aggrey and I were sacked by our very selfish boss after an evening party that was held in honour of a certain VIP. That was over 12 years ago when Aggrey and I couldn’t kick our bad habit of gate crashing parties. We used to sniff around for mega parties in and around Kiyovu in search of free booze. Our mission was so successful that every weekend, we would be assured of serious boozing and munching of delicious nosh. However, on this fateful day, things went totally against us. We had left our offices at Gikondo a little bit earlier so that we could rush home to dress up in our best suits. This was going to be a mother of all parties. During those days, there were no mobile phones. That is why our new lady boss at Gikondo became so frustrated when she couldn’t trace us. Apparently her vehicle had run out of fuel and she urgently wanted the storekeeper to provide her with her weekend fuel vouchers. The storekeeper was none other than yours truly – Mr. Diaspoman! I was the one who kept the key for the logistics store. Somehow, I had forgotten to leave her portion of fuel vouchers on her desk. Unlike our previous boss who used to spend half of his time smoking a pipe and snoozing in his chair, our new lady boss was one of a kind. She never tolerated any mistakes from her employees. Even five minutes late and one was in for a scalding. She believed that a serious employee had to report at least one hour in advance. Anyways, when she had failed to get hold of me, she started to search for the vehicle and maintenance fleet officer. That of course was none other than Aggrey himself. Aggrey is the one who kept all the keys of the vehicles which were parked at the Gikondo compound. Now since she had run out of fuel, the next most sensible thing she wanted to do was to identify another vehicle for the weekend. However, Bwana Aggrey was with me preparing for a certain mega bash at the heart of Kiyovu. For us, we hit the road and climbed up the hill towards Kiyovu. As usual, we were dressed to kill and this was effective enough as the bouncers ushered us in with a smile. That was after Aggrey and I spoke in a language that had a mixture of English and broken French. We had been practicing so much and had perfected our art. We spoke with a foreign accent and used to pose as expatriates from Switzerland. As it approached midnight, the party became vibrant. We joined the crowds to dance to the tunes of dombolo. With high levels of booze, our eyes had started to squint a little bit. We began to ogle at this wonderful looking chick conversing with the guests. In a flash, Aggrey and I had decided that we would swing over to her corner and invite her for a serious dance.Before she knew it, Aggrey and I had swept her across the dancing ground where we managed to pull a crowd of eager and anxious onlookers. They appeared to be enjoying our dance moves. They clapped and cheered us on. Our unfortunate dancing partner was painfully embarrassed. She tried to run away from us but we insisted that she had to stay. It was when a certain sober guy came and whispered into our ears “Hey guys, the lady you are dancing with is your boss!” Ooops! What a mess. Slowly but surely we began to retreat. And the next day, it was not entirely surprising for us when we saw our suspension letters at our desks. Thanks to the booze infested squints… Contact: diaspoman@yahoo.com