MY FUNERAL !
The other day i coughed like a tractor all night long.To make matters elephant enough,power had taken a vacation to the land of Museveni.Meaning that all my neighbours suspended their sleep and other nocturnal extracurricular activities to listen to the music of my lungs.
Next morning,the same neighbors who had acted like strangers for years were bonding in small hushed up groups.I did not need a college diploma to know what they were deliberating on.I had seen such sombre scenes before.In short,they were organising for my funeral!
With the economic melt down reality looming large,i knew my neighbors were incapable of meeting all the cemetery expenses.When that truth sank deep in my grey matter,i immediately made an emergency courtesy call to my third rate doctor for a self paid postmortem.
A few minutes later,i laid on the doc's couch going through a thorough interrogation.Don't mind that my doc was once a sweeper at a government dispensary but discovered his medical talent after retirement.As he was taking measurements of my urine and stool,i kept asking him if i were still alive.Of course he begged me not to depart to the next world before settling my bill which was meant to settle his overdue rent.
Finally came the verdict."Smoker's cough is what is chewing you!,"He eulogised.He went on to assure me that it wasn't a dangerous disease for the worst it could do was send to me to the next world prematurely.He also said things to the effect that i was in fact lucky to be the owner of such a coveted ailment for i could sue B.A.T and hence meet my maker with a fat wallet.
Biting my postmortem result slip between my front teeth and with a molar to molar smile,i strolled back home puffing my B.A.T stick.All what i need now is a third rate lawyer to be able to meet my funeral expenses all by myself.
THIS WORKS PUBLISHED ON THIS BLOG WITH KNOWLEDGE OF THE AUTHOR, RE-PRODUCTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED All Rights Reserved. Paul Kibe (o) 2009
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