Survival for the loudest chap
It's a Friday night in an eighth full matatu(team positivity) and I'm going wherever the party's at. I'm a little frustrated from frantic calls I'm getting from another fella and I won't pick them anyway. A raggedy brother hops in, looks around and he settles for where I am. I'm mad, what are all these empty se ats for? I know I'm not looking pretty as my hair is held back with no much thought put into neatness. I'm in a trenchcoat and some random pants I jumped into hurriedly. Or it's that thing they say about you being who you att ract? I'm actually mad because he has a boiled maize on his left that he's gnawing at unapologetically and a fat avocado on his right. Wait, no, that's no crime. It's his chewing that's getting to my nerves. "You can have a bite," he offers with his mouth full and pointing the maize at me. I'll pass lawfully. My reason being chewing maize is exhausting for me, so I'm