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{UAH} Boxing Day

Used to be that this day in the village was taken for a ride literally. Even kids searcked for the weakest links to thumb and mince to pulp. But where is "Boxing Day"s origin and why "boxing for that matter?

Then, and only then did I grow to know it was about a different kinks of "boxing" referring to another item - the paper or cardboard box in which the reciepint packed all presents for towing home or room or stomach for keeps.

Too late tho, bcos I was thumbed as the weakest limk and I also retaliated by thumbing a few bonny kidos to their mother's chagrins but, ehi!

Shit happens.

As per my birth certificate who happens to none other than my living mother. I am clocking my mid 40s in another 9 months but b4 I hit this perfect Turkana day or date or hour I would like to say to those iwho thumbed me - for no apparent reasons other than flexing their egoistic malehood - that I have forgiven then AND I would like to apologise to those I thumbed to nothing that I am very much sorry for misinterpreting the word as balling my fists to grind some living creatures to screaming bedbugs.

With that, I am counting the pennies in my Piggy Bank to see what it can box for me today so far I got one free item - a naturally worthy and deserving one by default - to bank and this gift is immeasurable and priceless in value and content.

Its one from the individual who puked me into the wretched earth. She recently - some 10 years ago - discovered there was such a thing called the Cell Phone or Mobile Phone and has been ever since my unavodable nightmare, and I mean Night for real, bcos when she call there is no excuse in the whole world to give for not answering. She called to wish me a Merry Christmas.

Of corse I expect this to happen every year bcos this woman. Matter of fact, should have been Uganda's first female Protestant or Anglican bishop.

Yeap...! My mother was a preacher and the first book I remember buying was a rip off exclusive pages of the bible - just one - which happened to be the Letter of Saint Peter. I was mad bcos my other sibling Paul Lokech was able to bur more than me only to discover that the Peter I took for serious was being taken for granted by Paul bcos he was such a lazy writer who was able to write only two letters while Paul wrote zillions of the same.

Oh yea....! Even this warrior dude, Lokech, called to annoyingly remind me of the olden days he shockingly bypassed me in vertical distance with a Merry Christmas wish accompanied with an even more annying literature that the preacher was with him for Christmas. Can you believe the two were stabbing me in the backside for enjoying the native weather yet I, on the other hand, couldn't find my manhood balls? They always run away into hybernation like Polar Bears and finding them is like searching for the proverbial needle in hay sacks.

Talking about my balls, I don't like them. They have been the chief cause of my today's problems and miseries. They will never be my friends but partners in crimes. Those lousy, often forgotten, extensions aren't worth a dime and are, in the first place, weightless with out the bearer. Matter of fact, they are the real parasites but for some weird reasons, women like them. I have been asked a few times by them women how we men are able to contain them in their place.

No amswer.

The question always gets me unprepared.

Merrry Christmas and Happy New Year my fellow Baboons.

GPR
Sent from my "contract free" BlackBerry® smartphone on the WIND network.

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