Michael Kwayisi

Myself: Almost Everything to Know About Me

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Who be I? I be stompin' yo ass if you ask me that again!Who be I? I be stompin' yo ass if you ask me that again!

Many, many years ago, my father turned to my mother one night and said: “You know, you’re not really fat at all, and that nightie sure makes your tummy look just as flat as the backside of an Irish princess.” But mother shushed: “Shh, the kids are sleeping! Besides, if you had been the one cleaning all day, there’s nothing that you’d want more than a quiet, good night sleep.” “Yeah, sorry about that,” father responded—“But do you by any chance fancy cleaning one more pikin?” Mother then mumbled something about heavenly bliss and father’s fist in his pocket to which he ejaculated: “That’s not my fist!” Moments later, I found myself swimming in the Milky Jay river, competing with several million contestants to win the Ovarian Prize. After biting a couple of tails, I eventually won the race and was customarily rewarded after a nonuple months. In honor of my athletic prowess, I was also given the special bonus ability to micturate while standing.

Seven days after my birth, mother proposed that I be named after a Biblical angel so as to bring grace into my life. Father said his own name suited me just fine. One distant uncle also said: “Can you work my name somewhere in there too? It sure will make me feel more relevant.” A decade later, they were all disappointed. The angel took a trip around the world and screamed in horror when he saw me: “That boy is nothing like me!” Father came home one evening and announced: “I demand a paternity test!” That uncle too tried to say something but all I could hear was a croak. Anyway, I made it through my rock-and-roll teenage years with a cool head, surviving unrelenting floods of vicious accusations and scandalous trials about which I would delight in having the honor to brief you in the following paragraphs; and for the first time, give the truthful account of the stories and expose the gross hypocrisy of my detractors.

EDITOR’S NOTE: This essay has been truncated in violation of our zero-tolerance policy against the ridicule of cross-eyed teachers, big-breasted female bosses, and diarrhetic homosexuals. In view of our absolute belief in free speech and inclusivity for all regardless of race or creed, we have censored the content in accordance with our editorial standards which, since it came into force, has been highly acclaimed by our tempestuous followers on social media. We are not sorry for any inconvenience caused because if you are indeed dissatisfied with our upright censoring of hate speech, then you are undoubtedly a homophobic bigot who deserves to rot in the nethermost portion of hell—though we don’t believe such a place actually exist. As a closing remark, we would like to reiterate our guiding principle of hating nobody at all except, of course, those who are not on our side, in which case our hatred is justified because it is US.

Comments (2)

  1. jeffjeff
    Oct 6, 2018 01:09 GMT

    your writtings are amazing . i dont know how you feel about contacting me . i think you have a very good sense of humor and i would love to talk more. if u dont mind please contact me

    1. Michael KwayisiMichael Kwayisi
      Oct 7, 2018 05:35 GMT

      I've sent you a mail.

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