BOOM


Al-shabab is the group(club really) that has been swaggering, shaking fists and spitting “warnings” at our dear country for a while so we’re going to assume for today that any bomb scares or actual bombings that occur anywhere in Uganda can be traced back to them. Like any self-respecting “conglomeration of terror”, these curs presumably hire scouts to identify places where bombs, when placed will cause the highest and most terrifying level of devastation.

The joke was on them last week when one of their little scouts did them a dirty. This chic (for we’re also assuming that any terrorist scout with the balls to do those syphilitic louts a dirty has got to be female) walked the whole perimeter of Makerere University, an easy enough thing to do since the university’s size is hardly anything to write home about. She did her rounds and decided that the faculty of Arts, not the senate building or the CIT department but the faculty of Arts where wonderfully relevant courses like Arts in Arts are offered was the most strategic area in the whole campus that her superiors could place a bomb.

She probably went further to say that the greatest minds in the university were to be found in ARTS and that a bomb detonated in the parking lot of this faculty would just break the heart of Uganda . They, trusting her judgment took this advice without the slightest suspicion that they were playing into the hands of a wily traitor.

First of all, the bomb-if there was one inside that ugly bag didn’t scare anybody. People walked all the way from the main gate to stare and click their tongues at this bag, which goes to show one of two things. Either Ugandans between the ages 19 and 24 are extremely unafraid of losing their limbs or they think that being photographed sprawling in embarrassing poses with ball bearings all up in one’s chest makes one a celebrity.

Anyway, police in those cool camouflage uniforms drove to the scene and proceeded to do nothing at all. Students gathered around the bag and went away again at their leisure, with no disturbance from the police. Whoever put the bag there had clearly disowned it; probably because of how UGLY it was, but maybe also because it had a bomb. We’ll never know.

This writer got bored with everything and decided to go take a little nap. On her way to the napping-place, she encountered a parked car, very far from the boring “bomb scene”. This car was impressively shaped and sized and it had the logo of ALTERBRIDGE’s BLACKBIRD album on its snout. This stopped the writer in her tracks on account of its extreme beauty and she wept because as everybody knows, Alterbridge is the BEST band in the world. She tried to think of a cool course of action.

“Will it be utterly swaggerless to pitch up camp next to this car until its owner comes out of wherever he’s hiding(he because she’s the only chick with dibs on loving Alterbridge this much)?”  She asked herself.

“Will it be smart to stick my number to his windscreen with this here wad of bubble gum?” she asked herself again.

She then whipped out her camera, took pictures , made a pledge to herself that she world find this cool dude by hook, crook, hell, high water, etcetera and went off to take that nap.

There was no bomb in that ugly bag lying in the middle of the faculty of Arts parking lot. It wasn’t empty though, having within its smelly folds an old note book, a container and a fork. The only important thing that happened that afternoon was that this writer found the love of her life (who she is yet to track down and marry).

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