They keep on knockin…

 Today I received yet another A5-sized advertisement for “Psychic, fortune teller, herbal therapist”, Professor Ramah…obviously at a set of traffic lights in Sandton. How Prof. Ramah differs from his previous incarnation as Prof. Whako and Sheik Kassiim is that Prof. Ramah offers answers to a new batch of distressing sexual and witchcraft-related questions he poses on his leaflet, including:

“Can’t you produce enough sperms?”

“Do you experience knocking on your roof/door?”

“Do you see strange things in your house hold?”

 Although I wouldn’t dream of denying the pain of not being able to produce enough ‘sperms’, the latter two questions did make me wonder, while flicking radio stations, if perhaps my flat has been hexed. The truth is, I do see strange things in my household, and I do experience knocking on my door.

The knocking has become problematic and, in 99% of cases, is caused by two of the young girls who live diagonally below me. There is no pattern to how frequently the girls knock on my door – sometimes it’s three consecutive days in a week; other times they can go a couple of weeks before pestering me. On Friday, they arrived within five minutes of each other and asked/demanded if I had the inside of a toilet roll and a stapler, respectively. I had neither.

They’ve asked me for many things, these girls:

–          Five rand (so she wouldn’t get smacked by her mother, conniving little brat)

–          DVDs (‘Finding Nemo’ and ‘Hairspray’ are their favourites)

–          Magazines

–          A note pad

–          Prestick

–          Glue

–          White nail polish

–          Swimming goggles

–          A waterproof jacket

Oh yes, and once to do their homework, which I’m sure I got wrong. This, of course, is excluding the many occasions I’ve chosen not to answer the door when they’ve knocked and wanted me to watch their song-and-dance routine. Christ.

In terms of the strange things I see in my household, there is very much of that presently owing to the fact that Mary the Cleaner is allegedly near death’s door, and thus has not come to work today. That’s well and good – Mary must recover. It does present a problem, however – my flat resembles a floordrobe and I am sure the ecoli are proliferating. And then there’s the change of the duvet cover issue.

Sigh.

Perhaps I’ll have to pay a visit to Prof. Ramah. My problems are large, like my penis isn’t. I need the strong herbs.

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6 Responses to They keep on knockin…

  1. Wenchy says:

    I also want the LARGER herbs 🙂

  2. Charmskool says:

    Ah the joys of razor wire and controlled access gates. I ignore all buzzes on the gate phone unless I get a desparate cellphone call from the person outside saying “Let me in you cow! It’s yer mate Queen” as for the knocking on the roof – my neighbour and her daughters walk like short tubby rhinos – they could surely use some of the strong herbs to fix that.

  3. Don't Believe a Word I Write says:

    Perhaps the three of us need to purchase some large and strong herbs, respectively. We are facing mighty problems, although curse you Charmskool for not having to deal with complex complex problems. You, Wenchy, sound far to chipper to be living in a complex either. Harumph!

  4. Mauve Dane says:

    I will say it again – what sort of warped neighbour (ie YOU, DBAWIW!) gives GLUE to a child just because they ask for it???

    What if they ask for a gun next time!??!?

    😉

  5. Don't Believe a Word I Write says:

    he he, I would give them the gun and send them to some of your work colleagues’ houses. Oh, and I’d advise them to use the glue for other non-sticking, recreational purposes immediately prior to doing what I suggest re your colleagues.

  6. Mauve Dane says:

    HAHHAHAHAHAAHA

    touche!

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