Kung Fu Man remembers saying goodbye to Kenchic in his own way. If you’ve never met him, check him here.
‘I want breasts,’ I say it without hesitating.
The white tiles beneath my feet feel firm like they’re holding on for dear life.
Kenchic looks sad yet still inviting as it inhales its last puffs before dying out.
Tables have people scattered on them, eating and talking noisily. Brown papers lie flat on the table holding the chicken. Light mists swirling above them proving they’re yummy and hot. Chips soaked in vinegar, pili & tomato sauce sit on the edges.
Chips just have that smell that pulls you in a little closer.
I turn to look at Kevin in black jeans & a red t-shirt with a strong beard on his chin. Najua amesorta kabisa. So, I give him that look.
‘Quarter kuku na chipo ime nitosha,’ he says with tired eyes as he rubs his belly.
Then he winks at the lady at the counter. I roll my eyes. A brief giggle escapes her pink coloured lips. I just want chicken.
‘Sir, can you repeat your order,’ a soft slightly sharper voice asks.
Her name tag says, Bernice.
She’s wearing an orange & yellow themed uniform. That weird black thing with holes in it covers her hair.
That sweet waft hits me harder, I take a step back and inhale it.
It was a long night.
I spot my lunch rotating on metallic black things. The box is see-through. Yet, I can’t see clearly through it since it’s foggy inside.
Looking like honey, I visualize that sweet yet crunchy chicken running on my taste buds. I also know that the pieces just came apart beautiful. So hot and steamy that it literally melts in your mouth.
‘Sir, ‘ she asks louder with a slight smile and bored expression on her face. Her long pink manicured nails are paused in the air waiting to type in my order on a beaten-up grey till machine. It looks like it’s seen better days.
I smile back. She’s a lady.
‘I want breasts, chips & quarter kuku,’ I repeat without pausing and I start feeling my wallet.
‘You want breasts,’ she says in a pitchy voice. Her words slower & she quickly eyes me over.
‘Kwani zime isha,’ I ask concerned and searching her face.
I hear a chuckle behind me, followed by Kevin pretending to clear his throat.
‘You want breasts,’ her voice goes lower and a bit more pointed.
She arches her back so she can angle herself better. I don’t get fazed out at all.
Keeping my voice straight and my eyes staring straight ahead, I ask seriously, ‘ita chukua dakika ngapi.’
Bernice licks her lips and decides to match my pose.
Kwani, hakuna supervisor ama manager hapa? Sitaki shida
‘Na uliza swali tuu… So I can confirm your order.’ her voice gets a big higher and more professional.
Her posture straightens up and she even wipes the counter in front of me
I spot a man with black pants, white shirt and black leather shoes. He stands on her extreme right. With hands crossed over each other, scanning the restaurant with a hard look.
A black paper bag appears in front me. Oily. Greasy.
A short beep comes out of the till and she prints out two receipts. I hand her cash. She opens her palm and starts ticking off items before she scribbles on them.
I look back. Kevin sat down with his head between his hands.
She sticks on receipt on a nail so it can lie on other receipts. Her long fingers reach out to hand me my copy.
I grab our stuff plus the change and sit next to him. Our bag opens like a flower waiting for a bee to visit her.
He shakes out a toothpick, salts the chips vigorously and digs in. I’m looking for that…
I grab a white semi-clear bottle with blackish liquid swirling inside. I put a small bit on my side of fries.
I can feel eyes on me intently. I can feel her keeping a close an eye on me. I’m not bothered. Till I turn to look at my receipt and I feel coolness sweeping into my body.
Why are girls so damn forward these days?