Go, give lucifer a call!

 Hey; it’s me writing to you. Isn’t that some story, me writing to you while there is the thing we call smartphone or something? Sometimes things happen, don’t they?

I’d like to thank you for that eventful night the other week. It has been some time since anyone accorded me that sort of VIP treatment. Yes, I know that you’re making money, and a lot of it too. Well I don’t know and it’s also none of my business as to where to your cash cow lies.

Look, if you think I enjoyed the entire night well, sorry, but that was not the case. When you thought I was laughing my head off, I wasn’t. You put me in such uncomfortable position that I’ve to stretch every nerve to the limits as if the smell of the roses were lifting us to the nearest heavens. We haven’t finished our second rounds when things really started going wrong for me. And until midnight you thought I was enjoying every second of it. I wasn’t.

Do you something you said early evening; “You never told me from which part of the country you are!” I might be the most passive fellow in this half of the world. But at the moment the only thing wanted was to crash the bottle on top of that sorry head of yours, Ungracious! You accuse me of being ungracious? We have been around for the better part of three decades and you ask me form which part of the country I am! Forget the ten or so beers you paid for. You could have paid for ten thousand. But after you asked me that silly, irresponsible and highly suspicious question you know what my wish was? For you to go and waltz with Lucifer: You’d have felt better at home there.

Go, give Lucifer a call!

What is it to you where I come from? What is it to you who my parents are? What is to you what my ‘mother tongue’ is? If things stopped at that I’d have been willing to let go of everything after a few days: I’d have blamed the chemist at the beer factory. But the morning after that night, I got breaking news of sorts. I was told you’ve been inquiring as from which part of the country my better half came. What! (I never told her, lest I’d have problems covering your hospital bills. That’s what my better half is made of.) Why the sudden change?

If my ‘paranoia genes’ had been fully activated, I’d have thought you were on a mission’; on a mission to break up my family or to categorize me with this sill group or that. I’d have asked “is someone paying you for spying as to where my birthplace is? Is that how you make all this money, spying on the background of the unsuspecting?” But no; I wouldn’t do that. You know, the place is practically littered with the likes of you who want to place everyone in some political box.

Go, give Lucifer a call!

In your case it seems the cat is coming out of the box a paw at a time. You know what the talk in town is? They say even your long tie circle of friends are slowly sliding away. Yes, I know why. All of a sudden you’ve become like some red-hot commie inquiring where people are from. Just for the record, do you have any idea of ‘rebranding’ us! Look, as you know I am the last person to give attention to gossip. But when it comes to you, I don’t know why, but I’m all ears! “Really!” You don’t say! “Is he really that deep in such things?” (Now, you don’t want me to elaborate what those ‘such things’ are, do you? Why, like that ‘Thriller’ clip of Michael Jackson! You know, all the demons digging themselves out of the ground! No, I wouldn’t be that inconsiderate! After all you, too, have a life!) It would be like do you see the damage you’ve done by asking me from which part of the country I am?

Just curious, what if I told you and you leaned it isn’t from where you come?

You know what, let’s put off that plan getting back together for another night on the town. It won’t work.

Go, give Lucifer a call!

The Ethiopian herald June 19/2021

Recommended For You