Getting Back To Our Roots.

Time is moving faster and faster, the world is spiralling out of control, and our younger generation is getting sluttier as they grow up too fast and act way beyond their years. The ages of 14-20 have disappeared as girls move straight from 13 to 21 years old, ditching their morals and picking up stilettos, cigarettes, and a host of STD's instead.


It is not these girls fault, nor their parents, but society that allows it to happen as it caresses and nurtures immoral and unlawful behaviour. I am not complaining about this because it has happened to the best of us, I am merely pondering the thought of how this all began.


The reason for these random thoughts is because last week I got back to my roots. I re-visited my childhood personality and acted completely immature and childish – the result, a fucking fantastic time. The Queen and I act very immature at the best of times, but on Thursday, Stockie (one of my best friends from Cape Town) came up to stay for the night, and shit went overboard. What began as a very mature chat about relationships and the like, ended in an extreme sugar high off of these German sweets which were more effective than Ecstasy.


With this new found energy we decided to go wake the Hatter and beat the shit out of him – just for shits and giggles. While there we raided his fridge, finding nothing but a 2kg packet of tomatoes... We knew that The Engineer was hard at work, and so he was a perfect target. I mean, who better to annoy than a sexy man who works hard but is easily distracted??? Exactly! We gathered a few stones, mashed the tomatoes into pieces and got ready for operation Annihilation.


On the count of 3 we all started throwing stones at his window, waiting for him to pop his head out, while keeping our positions behind and against the walls. *Bam* Tomato in his face. *Bam* *Bam* *Bam* Tomatoes in his window, on his window and a loan ranger that had flown to the floor above. *Bam* *Bam* *Bam* *Bam* *Bam*


We thought that we had won, as he had run away. Well boy were we wrong. He was not hiding but gathering ammunition. First he hit me with a squash. Now at a speed, let me tell you, a squash feels like a rock, and it basically knocked the wind out of me. Then he got us on the stairs. As we ran up to our flat for cover, the Queen could not get the fucking door unlocked!! We were cornered and so we did what we could – huddle in the door frame and scream for help. He showed no mercy and pounded the tomatoes into our hair, our bodies and our door. I screamed and I screamed while The Queen and Stockie both pissed them selves from fear and excitement. Class!


The next day Stockie, The Engineer, and myself, gathered at the downstairs table to discuss the previous nights events. While laughing, once again, to the thought of Stockie and The Queen pissing themselves, I felt a plop on my head. An avo peel. Nice. It was on!!! This time bigger and better than ever before. Other people joined in and before I knew it, it was World War 2 all over again.


There were peaches, avos, green peppers, sweet melon, and eggs flying from one side of the block to the other. As I ran for cover in my room an egg flew by me, grazing my head and bursting on the wall in front of me. The Queen and The Engineer got me in a hold, The Engineer mashing peach in my face as The Queen stuffed tomato down my G-String.


This continued for an hour, until we all collapsed, exhausted. Although our favourite clothes were completely stained, our hair was sticky, there was sweet melon dripping from the ceiling, splattered egg all over our front door, 3 broken glasses, peach mashed into our front door lock, and splatters of food all over the inside and outside of our flat, we could not stop smiling. Because although we knew that we would have to spend the rest of our Friday afternoon cleaning, we had had more fun than we could have ever imagined, and none of us had pissed ourselves – a positive in anyone’s books.



            Alice xxx