The Housee's Kajanja!

Everybody has a Housee kajanja or horror story to tell.

When Colleagues housee was headed to kyalo, she popped by New Vision to pick her wages but, Colleague was in a meeting which, poised a dilemma. Either she waits or she goes minus her salary. She opted to wait. And she waited in style.

After lounging about for an hour or so, she got tired and started to nod off. Nothing wrong with that – except, she went that step further. She took off her shoes, got really comfy, laid herself out on the four seats in reception and went to sleep!

Camilla, the receptionist, has just about seen everything in the years of manning the front desk but, this stunt took the biscuit and the kitchen sink. She quickly scattered herself upstairs to editorial and told Colleague what was happening downstairs in reception. Mortified, Colleague wasted no time in abandoning the meeting and rushing to assure Housee that the reception at her place of work, is not her small room of a muzigo back at home.

Another colleague who was fed up with her housee, sent her packing. But before she flung her out of the gate, her suitcase had to undergo the obligatory checking – just to make sure she wasn’t pilfering stuff that wasn’t hers.

Going through her belongings, all was in order – until a shiny photo album at the bottom of the case caught her attention. Flicking through it, they were the usual housee style pictures – you know, posing in front of a mango tree, by the gate and squatting besides a hedge (hmm). As the peruse continued, there were other pictures of her in the house – in the living room and the kitchen. Until she flipped the page.

This time Housee was in her (Colleagues) boudoir and lounging on her bed. If that didn’t make her want to regurgitate the kindazi she had had earlier in the day for sawa nya, then the pictures on the next page got the process going. Housee was now devoid of dress and was romping on the bed in different poses and wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy knickers and a bra. But the tale doesn’t end there. The skimpy knickers and bra she was frolicking in, didn’t belong to her. They belonged to Colleague. Ouch! 

Colleague vomited. 

And then she vomited some more as she heaped all her little black and red numbers onto a bonfire then followed up with a trip to Doctor - lest she caught some disease 'down there' from sharing her skimpy knickers with the so fired and loathed housee.    

When Parents got a new housee, the moment I laid eyes on her, I smelt trouble which, surfaced well before she had completed her probationary period. She had harnessed the house which, she flogged and ran like a Soviet Union era Siberian gulag. It was no longer Parents crib. It was now her crib, her rules and she was going to run it according to her whim.

When Parent sauntered down for breakfast one morning, he found a bare dining table which, necessitated telling Housee to do the needful. But what did she do? She duly assured him how the breakfast period had elapsed and that he would have to wait for lunch. When Parent spewed the tale, I thought he had made it up and was heading for 'lala land' until one night, when I returned late – at about 10:00pm. Asking for supper, Housee smirked, put me in my place and barked that supper time was over and that the dishes had been washed and put away. I went to bed hungry.

One Sunday when James told Housee to take the ride down to the washing bay and have it hoovered, Housee went a step further and any guesses as to how this story ends? After the car was hoovered, rather than drive straight back home as instructed, he went on a fwaa joy ride – picking up friends and galivanting off to Gaba. Probably for mputa fish

But get this. Despite repeated calls from James, Housee kept cutting him off then waltzed in at 10pm reeking of booze and acting like he’d done nothing wrong. And then he had the audacity to wonder why he was got two searing hot slaps and the sack the following day. 

Pictures: Internet