A Day In The Life Of death(<–no capital letter for you, msw).

By the way, I’m not amused by the way you plan B people just be there not being afraid of me. How dare you be brazen enough to ask me, death, for an interview? Me? Ender of all things? Patron saint of the shit-in-my-pants and the cold sweat? Msssw. Kamanyiro. But since you asked, and I’m a lonely, jealous and restless loser, here is how a day in my life goes.

6.00am: I wake up. Yea…who am I kidding? I can’t sleep. I’ve been trying to harvest sleep from the world for ages. How? This is how. I take your loved one. You cry and cry and cry and cry, and then I come and try to take the sleep which your eyes have manufactured; but I fail! Every time. I have never slept in my life. Do you know what that can do to a person’s looks?

6.01 am- infinity: I spend hours looking at myself in the mirror. You humans think that I’m skinny and skeletal because I’m over trying to be scary. Not so! I’m as thin as hungry-horror because I can’t eat. I’m maddeningly, desperately hungry but I long gave up on those things of thinking about food. The kiosks in my neighbourhood have even refused to even sell me snacks, because I hear that whenever I tip, something bad happens. Sniff.

By the way, Me I can’t do day in the life of. I want to talk about myself. So quit breaking up my jazz into time segments. Its annoying.

*I’m convinced that those anorexic girls are making fun of me. Mocking my size. I always run to my bedroom and slam my door and fall on my pretty pink duvet and weep into my pillow whenever I see one of them. They’re trying to bring my self esteem down. I know it. But I won’t let them. I’m a survivor and hips are not everything.

*I really hate Bukowski. For 25 years of his life, the guy wrote and wrote and wrote nonsense that really pissed me off. I remember wanting to die when he wrote that thing of ‘Sex is kicking death in the ass while singing.’ I don’t even have enough of a backside to kick and I have never lived that one down. I even got dumped because of it. Somebody should put that guy dow…wait. muahaha. I dun killed him already. Smiley face*

*Another thing that really hurts my feelings is when people mistake me for bikalabanda.


Kakalabanda! Msw


 Can you believe? A guy like me? Nearly as old as existence itself? And people are heartless enough to mistake me for that drag queen with a bad taste in shoes? Even in my hood, when I’m walking down the street, minding my own business, 4/5 times a kid will yell, mummy, mummy, look. A kakalabanda! Dude, I don’t even wear high heels.

*It annoys me that people get better after I come and wreck havoc on their lives! Do you know another person I hate? Yann Martel. That writer with the stupid hair who wrote The Life of Pi. He says, “The reason death sticks so closely to life isn’t biological necessity; it’s envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud…”

Being Death has left me so very sad and lonely. Seeing as you’ve stuck around long enough for this interview, how about you…maybe, um, send me a fb friend request? I promise not to kill your account.

4 thoughts on “A Day In The Life Of death(<–no capital letter for you, msw).

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