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A frisking innie Boeland. . ..
Once upon a time in Stellenbosch, aka
ta'Matieland*,
there was a female senior citizen who got so bored with reading za.humour
on the 'net that she decided to leave her penthouse and go for a
walk. Whilst walking down an alley to pursue a stray pavement special of
a dog for potential adoption purposes, a skollie jumped out from behind
a few barrels of stale Luyt Harvest intended for export to Gauteng.
"Yo, Antie, ek sê," waving
his moerofa rollie*, "Stick 'em up!" he said, as two of his gatgabbas*
wheeled a 122mm howitzer* out from behind some more barrels of stale wine
and aimed it at where her legs meet: Parralevel*
She raised her arms. "As much as I support
the new South Africa and our new Liquorice All Sorts flag, young man, I
know better than to carry money in this part of town. Sorry, but please
aim that canon elsewhere. At my age I need to peepee often."
"Sheeeit, Antie! I don't ..........
"
The street punk turned to one of the howitzer
gunners.
"Yo, Gatiep! Turn off that fuckin radio,
we've got an armed robbery in progress here!" Djonnie was still crouching
by the barrel, holding another shell, ready to load it in case the first
shell wasn't enough to stop the Antie from peeing. Gatiep, though, had
one hand on the trigger and one hand wrapped around his ghettoblaster,
playing Pink Floyd at volume 14 like always.
"WHAT?" replied Gatiep.
"Turn off the radio, man!" urged
Gammat.
"WHAT?"
"TURN OFF THAT MOTHERFUCKIN' RADIO YOU
FUCKING STUPID CAPE COLOURED TWAT!"
"WHAT?"
Praying to every deity he knew, Gammat
hoped he looked as fast and as fresh as Clint Eastwood was in "Dirty Harry"
as he drew his .357 Magnum and blasted the radio right out of Gatiep's
hands.....
Moerofabang!!!
Silence...............
No sirens yet. Good. Gammat knew, however,
that he and the boys would have to hurry up before the fee fo fee fo blou
blou blou would arrive; he and his tjommies had clocked the boere's
average response times ever since they
were from stofpoepers to groot latte,
and he knew that they only had 5 hours and 41 minutes left before the boere
would arrive with a moer-of-a-gejuig.
Gammat turned back to the lady. "As I was
sayin'... sheeeit, Antie, my ouma's had a big enough chunk taken outta
her state pension's paycheck to know that, if you're old, you've GOT to
have some kinda money!"
She frowned. "No. Sorry again."
Gammat did his best to look cool and tough
again. He turned to Gatiep and Djonnie.
"Skud haa ek sê!"
The two gunners threw her up against the
wall and frisked her (as best as they knew how from watching Kojak all
their lives) while Gammat went through her purse. Besides a packet of Stimorol
sugar free they found absolutely
nothing. Gammat began to think as Djonnie
started chewing a Stimorol. Then he had an idea.
"There's still some places we haven't searched,
Antie!" With that, Gammat began feeling around her breasts, and between
her legs, hoping to find a wad of cash or some trace of a necklace.
The woman cleared her throat. "I insist,
young man, that I haven't got any money on me... but if you keep up frisking
me, I'll write you a cheque as soon as I get home."
From Jakes
aka ta'Matieland=Also known as Tomato land,
as Stellenbosch is a student
town and the students are called the Maties
gatgabbas=friends/gangmembers/followers
moerofa rollie=big revolver
howitzer=No idea! Who can help us out
here?
Parralevel=Where her legs meet, come on,
this is a decent joke publication!!
Moerofabang!!!=Hell of a loud bang!
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