There is nothing as irritating as being pestered by losers. They always plead poverty and are forever broke. I mean, these are the chaps who sat at the back in class and made lewd remarks about the teacher. These are boys who imagined themselves in bed with the pretty female teacher. They were the classroom clowns who regaled everybody with tall tales and jokes. They were so busy making us laugh they forgot to study. In no time, they had flunked. Alternatively, with lessons getting harder, they would simply abandon school and drift into a life of misery. A few struck luck and ended up as labourers doing back breaking work for a derisory wage. The more unfortunate ended up in crime or doing absolutely nothing. That is why they are always broke and pestering us. The moment they see you driving up in your nice car, they buzz around and tell everyone how they went to school with you. They will impress on their fellow losers how they were friends with you at school. Because the losers tended to be bullies at school, you would only remember how they used to subject you to unwarranted beatings. But now, because you are successful and driving your lovely car, they will seek to rewrite history and paint a glossy picture of those old days at school.
As soon as they are through with reciting praise poems, they would ask to be bought beers and cigarettes. Over the beers you bought, they would lament how they blew their futures by playing truant at school and not listening to the teacher. But with the drinks flowing from your pocket they would tell everyone how they always knew you would end up successful. They would say you were even smarter than the teachers.
Before long, still drinking your beers, they would ask to be taken for a spin in your clean car. The moment they step in, they would fiddle around with the radio and demand to be played their favourite station. They would demand to be driven to see some person who owes them some money from a piece job. Invariably that person would not be there and you would be forced to drive them back, in the process plying them with more beer. Before shaking them off, they would ask for your phone number and inform you they will pay regular visits to your workplace.
One of them will even start referring to you as ?cousin?. The new cousin will inform you how he intends to come and spend the Christmas holidays at your place. Not only that – he will remind you to make sure you put aside your old shoes and clothes for him. In all this, not a single one of them will ask you to get them a job.
Very few do. That is why they are always broke and sponging from their peers who made sure they studied hard. I am at a point where I can?t take it anymore. When you consider all the losers you went to school with, surely it?s impossible to buy all of them drinks. I can no longer stand being called cousin by people who bullied me at school. I cannot afford to keep on grinning when losers rewrite history for the benefit of their fellow losers. I think I should help them to survive on their own. I think I have just the right idea. Although very few of them are interested in finding a job, there is a way to earn money. Not through crime. There is a thriving industry in body organs in many parts of the world. In the rich countries of the world the people live so well that some of their body organs end up damaged. I mean how can a rich man?s liver stay intact if he drinks whisky and smokes every day? Because of this, there is a healthy demand for organs (pun intended). When a rich person is on the brink of death he doesn?t give a damn if the organ is from a white person or black person. They don?t care if the organ is from a loser who spent his time in class dreaming the impossible dream of sleeping with the teacher.
The sick person just wants to be given a new lease on life so as to continue enjoying their wealth. I, therefore, am thinking of rounding up all the losers I went to school with and harvesting their organs for sale. I mean, if a poor person has two functioning kidneys why can?t they sell one in order to make a living? I don?t see the logic of dying from poverty when a person has two perfectly functioning organs that can generate some income for them. I am sure it will be tough to convince them at first. The losers will ask me what if they wake up in the middle of the operation.
They will ask me what if they never wake up. That one will be easy. I will tell them that they are so poor they will soon be sleeping forever. The other problem will come when it comes to the logistics of the trip overseas. I assume if the losers can be so excited at the prospect of sitting in my car, then the idea of flying in an aeroplane will drive them delirious. I will have to answer questions that can only come from losers. They will want to know whether they should bring some food to eat on the flight. In answering I will have to warn them that goat meat is not on the menu. I will have to inform them we will be staying in a hotel where they will be scrubbed and fed before the operation.
Excited about staying in a hotel they will ask me whether they should bring their own blankets. On our return from overseas, and with the chaps all beaming from the money they have made, they will proceed to squander it on their friends and hangers on. They will tell everyone they sold their kidneys. And in no time will be broke again. And as only losers are capable of thinking, they will come back to me broke and ask another question. They will ask me if they would still stay alive should they sell their one remaining kidney. I would sigh. If only they had listened to that teacher at school instead of dreaming of sleeping with her!
