NOT MY BOXER

There is this neighbor of mine who really does a lot of weed. He always announces his arrival from work with a bang. He blasts his home theatre with heavy roots. I hear weed and roots are first cousins. He will later stand on the balcony to take a call because the house is too noisy. He will talk with his girlfriend so loudly as if competing with his home theatre. Later i will hear him knock at my place to apologize for accidentally picking my socks from the hanging line and he promises to return them ones he cleans them. There is this other one who has a habit of hanging her bras and inner garments directly opposite my door. I always have to be cope with being brushed on the face by wet thongs every morning. Later in the evening i will nurse some head injury because i forgot to duck her C cup bras. These things are really hard. How does she even survive on them. But I have chanced to get a glimpse of her thorax and i can tell it needs such a strong caging. I don’t talk to her. She talks to much. And now there is the land lady, an elderly ‘mukurino' . She will always pray so loudly at 3am and do two or three hymns. Whether my other neighbors are blue or green in color i can’t tell. I only know those three.

11. 27 pm (events happen in real time). Just dropped a phone call from some lady friend to whom safaricom generosity had been extended in form of storo bonus. You know these things are usually awarded towards midnight obviously to accommodate those who wait for spouses to sleep so that they can call their secret affairs. Being a bachelor, i am preparing breakfast to eat before i sleep just in case i wake up late. If i wake up early enough i will still prepare and take another one. After this i will scroll down my contacts to see who to wish goodnight... Mostly ladies. So I hear a knock. Earlier on i had misplaced my pair of socks from the hanging line. That must be my Rasta neighbor coming to report himself as usual. I take my time before i open. I have recently purchased an iron box raising my net worth in electronic valuables. I therefore have to authenticate the identity of my visitor. I peep through the gapping of the lock and realize its a lady and a guy.

I will open anyway. The pair are in their sleeping clothing. Not the one you buy at the Jades collection, but the resultant of the exterior undress. So the lady is in loosely tied leso with the knot between the mammary glands. She has covered her hair with some lazed elastic clothe, that at least i can tell is from the outlawed bikers. Nowadays it is illegal for ladies to be in them i hear, making it the new casualty in the lingerie industry to risk closure after the petty coat industry. Women.. Women... God is watching. The guy is in a vest of an intermediary colour of white and brown usually a result of lack of appropriate laundry skills and an English premier league club (identity withheld) branded boxers. They seem to have cut short their sleep and its associated indoor activities to attend to this emergency. “Henania riu”. The husband goes first in Kikuyu. He is addressing the lady. They must be a couple or something close to it. I make up that they must be the couple living right above me on the 2nd floor. They have a habit of drinking together around Gacwiri gardens and getting home late. I have never met them but i always hear them.
At times they will stop by the stairs and have a conjugal moment. You know the kind of coitus that is characterized with vulgar vernacular vocabularies. They guy will occasionally do a few off targets as a result of poor geometry classes performance or generally effect of liquor on stability. A heated quarrel with ensue with the lady accusing him of deliberately attacking her sitting allowance. “A little slip in the wrong ‘target' doesn’t make a guy gay”, they will always conclude and laugh together. No one has ever talked to them about this behavior since they launched a joint crusade outside landlady’s house the other day. They called her bad names and threatened to release a dossier on how she sneaks Ben 10s into her house. They also had evidence that she secretly takes beer and she was the cause of his husbands death. No one talks bad of this supper couple ever since.

The lady pulls a petty clothe she has been holding behind her back. Its a pair of boxers which looks very familiar to me. I have looked for it inside my house for days. It isn’t so new and i doubt it can pass a public health test. I am supposed to be celebrating its fifth birthday next month. It has given me some utility which explains its wear and tear. Insurance would declare it a write off if i was to make a claim. I remember it has been missing since the day i used the 2nd floor hanging line. The lady must have taken it accidentally together with her clothes. The husband must have come across it and insists on knowing who had left it in his house. He must be shocked that someone disrespects him that much that he leaves even evidence at the crime scene. At this moment i know that the life of the lady lies on my hands. Am the only defence witness and i only need to claim ownership of the said evidence of infidelity. But look, i have a name at our plot. Am the suit wearing type and i always keep my compound clean. I will always save a few coins to prepare a feast of meat and Ugali mid month when everyone else in the plot is broke. You must be an illuminati if you can afford these two especially before the Mexico consignment rescued us. They think i am of class and maybe i had my share in the NYS loot.

There is no way therefore i am going to accept ownership of the mercilessly used up garment. When she asks if its mine i know what exactly to say. “Look at me, what an insult. Who in this century does a multicoloured boxers? Do i look like wearing a yellow stripped boxer?? Gerrerahia” Am mid way giving my expert testimony as slaps start raining on the lady. The guy is threatening to kill the lady if she doesn’t produce the name of the crime partner. I tell them to take there fights to their place and threaten to call my lawyer Njuguna Mungai to initiate a law suit for trespass and public nuisance.

2. 13 am and the case is still on upstairs with commercial breaks of intense beating. Am still suppressing voices telling me that i didn’t do the right thing. But i don’t even like the lady, she lacks morals. So , i am gonna sleep and let foxes have their meeting upstairs. I have just caught some sleep and alarm goes. I should be waking up. I have an appointment with my project instructor at his city office. I will be defending in front of a panel and all i need now is good luck. Its at this point i remember my set of clothing for good luck isn’t complete. I need my missing boxer back. I cant risk facing the panel feeling as if luck isn’t on my side. Or am i the only one who has a special set of clothes they associate with good luck? It is just several stairs away. I have made up my mind. As i knock at the door, I notice blood flowing right to the doorstep. No response from the inside. Police called, house broken into, two bodies, one lying in pool of blood and another hanging by the window grills. A pair of torn boxer stuck in the lady’s mouth. Two deaths reported as “A husband brutally kills wife and commits suicide. Police investigating the reasons behind the murder”.