Festive Hangovers

As we all ogle defeated bottles of whatever poisons that tickled our fancy this past December, we also count our losses as we mosey around in a daze with stunned expressions that have been perfected by our lash-mowing tribeswomen.

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January Blues

Bra Dan had been discovered in a rather compromising position with one of his wife’s stokvel associates in a back room somewhere. His wife of fifteen years in the resident rummy aunt-Barbara plainly lost it as she chased after him down our dusty boulevard, pick hoe in hand, screaming obscenities.

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