Ingestuur deur Llewellyn
I am a father. So, sometimes I need to do stuff that fathers do. In the old days, it was marbles and tolle and ketties. Things have changed.
So two weeks ago, the fucking bright sparks over the road here,whispered the words "GOLD REEF CITY" into my laaities ears,and what can you do. You go to GRC.
Ok, so i checked the website…nananana, looks like piss. Hier en daar n fokken ride or two and I wanted to go down the mine. So ek trek my plakkies aan, kam my hare, and off we go.
We got there early. Ek kap manhaftig twee worsbroodjies weg en n halfliter melk, and followed my son to the first ride…called Runaway Train.
We get on, and I thought these things were for kids and stuff and off it went. I did not like it. It was going sideways and shit and I was queasy when I got off.
What bothered me though was the sound coming from behind me somewhere. Dit klink soos 'n fokken boeing wat land. And then I saw it. Big signwriting…ANAFOKKENCONDA.
I had to keep face. I wear the pants in this family. Ek maak my arms bak, en ek loop fier en regop teen die dekplank op. Ek gaan die donner ry, what can go wrong?
There was a queue and the fuckup with that is – you can see what the thing does to people.
When it came in the second time and a young student dude met spiere waar ek voue het got out and kots oor die reling, toe weet ek, my kak is uitgeknip vir my.
Then it was our turn. Jono chickened out, BUT my wife was checking me out. This is where you have to be nonchalant and manly. I kept my chin up en my hol toegeknyp.
You get into this thing and you hang. The safety bar didn't want to go over my hoenderborsie, so I pulled a Ville Valo, and made myself thin, and hooked a clip too close….I think.
KLANG KLANG KLANG KLANG….en kom ons fok nie rond nie….skielik is ek so bang dat ek n bliksemse nieraanval kry…..
Dan draai die etterse ding en dan……POES HY NA BENEDE….MET DIE SPOED VAN DIE HEILIGE FOKKEN WIT ELAND.
I shit you not – forget any car, bike, plane or whatever the fuck you measure your manliness by – it accelerated like nothing I have ever felt.
But if this wasn't enough, gaan donner die ding onderstebo met jou. I feel the worsrolletjie. No wait, I feel the texture of the worsrolletjie, every fucking fibre of the worsrolletjie.
Kerels, we came out that first loop met die spoed van fokken wit lig. I wanted it to stop. I havent prayed in 22 years….I did then. We levelled out and then it hit the second loop. Shorter radius than the first. Ons fok daardeur en ek verloor my plakkie. Onderstebo and then around 2 flat corners wa ek 10 jaar ouer word and then….the fucking thing corkscrewed. Kllits daai fokken broodjie en die melk laat dit lyk soos daai kak wat jy oor bobotie gooi, and another en fok dit, toe skree ek soos 'n Namibiese vlakte vlermuis wat se sonar gekak het.
And into the station at 200kmh, and just for shits and giggles, they stop it in 10m flat.
I just sat there. Stunned,and my wife is oooh and aaaahing, en lets-go-againing….sy moet haar jags hou.
It fucked my whole day up.




Lente
Aweh Griffter,
So dis nou al Oktober, tyd vir al die trendsetters om hulle mullets te straighten – sodat hy lekkerder flick – asook die tyd vir kaalvoet hippies om met Pick&Pay-voete te gaan slaap, of met die nuutste Gladiator sandale te pronk. Blaksem.
Nou soos almal vertel, is dit die tyd vir al die mooiste reukies en klankies van die natuur om die lug te vul en in ons neus-en-oorholtes te gaan lê. Want dit is mos mooi, en dit is wat ons wil hê. Maar hier in Roodepoort is dit 'n ander storie. Ons wil ons gras groen hê, en ons wil ons tuine natter as 'n girl op 'n uitstappie in Rod Stewart se wardrobe hê. Ons wil hê die bure moet goed van ons dink wanneer hulle verby ons ry sonder om te groet. Ons wil hê die jaard moet mooi lyk.
Maar wat ons nie in berekening bring nie, is die reuk. Die reuk van die kak wat oor die gras gehark word sodat dit groen moet word. Die kak waarvoor jy deur jou hol betaal, want 'n bietjie is nie genoeg nie. Nee, ons moet die hele grasperk bekak.
Hier word ons wakker met die reuk van kak wat die lug vul. My kamer ruik soos kak. My studeerkamer ruik soos kak. My kombuis ruik soos kak. Ja, selfs die fokkin badkamer ruik soos kak. As ek 'n kak vat, ruik ek nie eers my eie kak nie, nee. My kos proe al soos kak. Daar is nie genoeg potpourri in die wesrand om van die reuke ontslae te raak nie. Dit is 'n uiters poef manier om die lente te moet begin.
Corrie oppie Kickdrum