By Chameleon

The day Mr. Barber got shaved

They were four of them. They usually move in quadrat or threesome. Maybe there is safety in numbers or just safety in consumption. You can tell that to anyone. 

Since it was Kaka, who was affected, let him tell his story first-hand; as from the horse’s own mouth. 

Kaka: I will always remember that Saturday. They were four of them, although I had invited MyOne. I didn’t complain to her. It is not always you land four fishes all dressed to kill. My house had never had the privilege of hosting such a quadrate guest list. I wished all the guys who usually hover around my residence on weekends to show up, salivate and share. I was in a sharing mood. That is the first thought that lept into my mind.

The introductions were as swift as the whiff of their perfumes. It didn’t matter because in a whiff they allocated themselves tasks around my one-bedroomed flat. MyOne and PackedOne retired to the kitchen to make breakfast. That left the three of us. She, I renamed HowBoring, because she kept complaining “how boring” about whatever was said or happening around us. Initially, I was full of empathy thinking it was my fault she found life so boring. But as the day wore on, I realised her statement was the trigger that got us moving from place to place. Then I too got bored with her. 

In the shortest time, Howboring was spread across my sitting room with all my vinyl music records selected and arranged in various stacks all over my sofa set. She was playing the music at full volume. I did not complain considering the way she spread herself across the main sofa set. I sat across reading the Saturday morning paper; at least going through the motions.

Finally, there was the CarWasher; she volunteered to help me wash the car, then popularly called Moti. Shortly after we finished wiping the car, we were invited back inside the house for tea. With HowBoring managing the turntable as the DJ, PackedOne doing jigs around the dining table, CarWasher running a loud conversation over the loud music, it was quite an event; although I cant remember much other than the hot foot-notes I was exchanging with MyOne under the table. I was just on the verge of inviting her for a private stint in the next room; when the DJ stopped the music. 

“How boring”, she groaned. As if on cue, Carwasher clipped in: Kaka has such a great new car; can you take us for a spin before lunch?

It is said men rarely take counsel from other men. It is also said men are fiercely critical of guys who let a bunch of women drag them all over the city; when all they need is one woman…. Yes, I am among the people who always said that. But not when engulfed in the whiff of perfumes and tantalizing smiles. Then memories tend to run short or escape.

The only distance memory that kept dancing back and forth when I woke up in my Moti parked outside my house at 10AM was about the time either PackedOne or Carwasher was lap dancing on me; and there was this familiar figure who popped up in my face and said gently: “Kaka, time for you to go home brother”. 

I am still trying to get my mind to focus on who was this great friend in the nightclub. But I can remember peering at him in consternation: “Home? But I am at HOME!”