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How not to kill your girlfriend

11 April 2014, 07:28

After Frikkie Welgemoed became rich he did the usual stupid things that people do. Like instead of getting pissed on brandy and coke, he took to malt whisky at R450 a bottle. He didn’t like the taste and said it smelt like peat-flavoured sheep’s urine, so he drank it with lemonade. There was nothing wrong with his 5 year-old Nissan Hardbody but he sold it and bought an out-of-the-box Beemer for700k. He also went and rented a luxury unit in an upmarket security complex.

He did lots of other stupid things too, like buying expensive designer clothes, a R2000 pair of shoes that gave him blisters, and a flashy watch similar to the one Julius used to wear before he had to pawn it. And another thing. Prior to getting lucky, he used to either masturbate or go out with sluts to keep his hormones under control. Now he discovered that if he flashed his money around the babes would show an interest in him. If he was prepared to spend close on three thousand in the form of flowers, a gift, a live concert, followed up with a meal at a top restaurant, he could get one of these babes to go to bed with him and give him more or less what the sluts gave him, only it felt much more classy. Frikkie liked feeling classy. It was just a pity that these babes were more interested in what he could buy them than in him as a person. Then he met Eva.

Eva was the classiest babe he had ever set eyes on, and he threw a lot of money in her direction to get her attention. It seems to have paid off, because she started going out with him and then, before long, she agreed to move into his fancy apartment. Some people said that she must have superb eyesight to be able to discern his good qualities. Others said she must be half blind not to see what rubbish she was getting in tow with. But they were wrong, because it had nothing to do with her visual acuity at all.

Not only was Eva a luscious beauty, she was also an Evangelical Christian of the sweetest and most sincere kind. What she saw in Frikkie was a challenge. The Lord spoke to her all the time, and one of the first things He told her about Frikkie was that it was her duty to help him redeem himself. She made it her mission to love him no matter what, and to make him a good and righteous man in the eyes of the Lord.

All went well and according to plan for the first few months until the novelty began to wear off, and the first signs of boredom set in.

One summer’s evening they were at home, as usual. Supper over, they thanked the Lord and got ready for bed. On bended knees they dedicated their love to Jesus Christ, who had died for them on the Cross, and then had sexual intercourse, which was so-so, and hardly worth expressions of gratitude.

They lay in the dark. Then Frikkie turned on the bedside light.

“It’s too hot to sleep, Tootsie,” he said. “Don’t you want to make us some hot chocolate?’

While they sat in bed drinking their hot chocolate they could have watched TV, but they didn’t. Instead they checked out their phones. Frikkie looked at some cars, and then some guns, and then started playing Candy Crush. Eva was on Facebook, and then went through text messages.

Suddenly she gasped and shrieked at the same time, as if she had just seen a rat climbing onto the bed.

Startled, Frikkie was in time to see the image on her phone. It was a man, stark naked, with a hard-on. And what a hard-on! He grabbed her hand and read the message. LUV YOU EVA. THIS IS FOR YOU.

Of course Frikkie wanted to know what was going on. In a very loud voice he demanded to know what was going on. She said it was some pervert who was stalking her. She hardly knew the guy. But how come he had her number? She was lying. Was she two-timing him? He didn’t understand what a beautiful woman had to put up with. They were both shouting. He wanted to see her phone. She wouldn’t give it to him. He was screaming at her, calling her all the horribly misogynistic names he could think of. He wouldn’t put up with a whore. He was going to give her a lesson. She screamed and ran to the bathroom. What could he hit her with? A belt, the way his father used to thrash him? But she had probably locked herself in the toilet by now.

He caught sight of his golf bag and pulled out a number four iron. The toilet door was locked, as he had suspected, so he banged on it and shouted at her to open up. In order to  thrash her? Little wonder he got no response. In fury he swung the club, but it was badly aimed, glanced off, and he hit his knuckles against the doorframe. Enraged, Frikkie rushed back into the bedroom. That was it. He had had enough. He was going to kill her. Where was his gun?

Again he was back at the door, banging it with his fist. Open up, or I’ll kill you, so help me God! No response. BANG! No response. BANG! BANG! BANG!

There was still no response but when Frikkie looked down he saw blood making its way under the door from the toilet to the bathroom. The sight of it brought him out of his blind rage. He had shot her and she was bleeding to death. Several times he swung the golf club, punching a hole big enough to get his hand through and turn the key.

There, half on and half off the toilet, slumped against the wall was a black man with a balaclava pulled down over his face. In one hand he still clutched a knife with a blade at least a foot long.

Frikkie’s confusion was total. How could Eva have turned herself into this caricature of a burglar? Was it some kind of miracle? He looked about and saw the bathroom window pulled wide open. He put his head out into the night and there below him, propped against the wall was a ladder.

Stunned, Frikkie went back to the toilet to look at the dead burglar. This had to be a miracle. In His wisdom, God had sent this intruder to provide an escape route for Eva. There could be no other explanation. It was God’s wish that he and Eva should be one.
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