A question of sanity


Despite the growing trepidation of being rammed in the ass, I felt the urgent need to fill the crammed up cell with bellows of uncontrollable laughter.

I was born with the nonsense in my blood, runs deep on both my mother and father’s sides; my mother wore panties over her clothes for three great freaking months just to spite her school authorities. And my able-bodied father supported her deviant act in the last month by cutting two big holes in the crotch area of all his pants. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out doggy style was invented by my great-great-great grandfather. Apart from being incredibly ludicrous, we’re perverts too. I don’t know of any sane person who would think that was sane.

 

And so, it only made sense that traces of inane intelligence and slightly twisted view of life be deposited in my brain.

 

Here’s what happened: you’re walking down the streets of a rich folk town with your high school friend whose sanity is questionable, (anyone whose ultimate sex fantasy is a woman dressed up as a cat with an actual tail is undoubtedly demented) you want to take a piss so bad but there are no bushes, no gutters, just beautiful walls and streets, and a children’s playground with a half-filled water bottle lying beneath a merry-go-round waiting just for your urine to fill it up. What do you do? Fill it to the brim!

 

Now how in the name of penis enlargement pills are you supposed to know a dumb 6 year old would drink almost half off of it? And even more so how are you supposed to know this 6 year old boy’s father will get thirsty and decide the smartest thing to do was drink his son’s water?! And how in all things straight are you supposed to know this boy’s father is the mayor of Accra?!! Zero expectancy right? Right!

 

So that summarizes my presence in a stinky originally 2-occupant-but-currently-8 inmates cell. It didn’t help much that I had good looks and a firm and fairly fat butt. I’ve been here for almost 9 hours and it was will power and the image of the guards in my grandma’s knickers that kept me from shitting in my pants. Everybody in my cell looked like they just jumped out from a badass movie. They served a plate of food that looked like trickling turd and I was convinced if a drop got anywhere near me my virginity would grow back.

 

One of the inmates in the opposite cell had managed to pull the guard’s pants down, and this decent-looking man who is supposed to be a hardcore guard had on a tweety imprinted pair of boxers. He looked so stupid. I wanted to laugh so hard. Nose-ring guy in the left corner was staring at my crotch and licking his lips. I held my bum unconsciously.

Lord, I believe in miracles. Get me out of here this very minute so I know it’s real….

 Image

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9 responses to “A question of sanity

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