By Elias Muthama
Not all superheroes wear capes. And Tajiri was one of those, you know the ones who probably have no idea who Clark Kent is. But Tajiri wore an old cowboy hat. Two things that were not apparent about this young man were the hat and the name Tajiri. His neighbours in Plot 13 had no idea what his real name was or why people called him by that moniker. The poor bastard just had a bed in his single room apartment. That notorious squeaky bed that thirsted for proper oiling and perhaps better bolts and nuts. That was apparent to the neighbours. The late night escapades had given him away.
“Mama, what’s that noise?”
“You ask a lot of questions Pendo. Have you done your homework?”
“The teacher did not give us any homework today.”
“Then finish your food and go to bed before I open a can of whoopass on you.”
Pendo’s mother clearly knew our superhero was not busy saving Gotham from the diabolical plans of villains such as the Joker. Tajiri was busy destroying the bed in his Bat Cave and probably the insides of some random woman. Pendo would probably not understand these things even if she had explained it to her. She was just an eight year old girl swimming in the ocean of sweet ignorance. Plot 13 had thin walls and this was the least of the worrying shenanigans they were yet to experience.
Just a fortnight ago, MrTumbo had stirred the pot of drama at the plot. He was a retired Headmaster of a girl’s secondary school. He had spent his years lusting on women and every night at the bar. His wife who had stuck with him through the years of his tomfoolery and bad decisions always mocked him on how he was a collosal failure for having spent their retirement benefits on alcohol and hookers.
“Look at you! What kind of a man are you? Your peers own plots and hardware shops and all you do is sit in the house all day and expect me to do everything. I should leave you, you good for nothing pig.”
“Don’t talk to me that way woman. I am still the man of this house!”
“You are a fat pig! You wasted all of our money on school girls and you won’t stop drinking cheap alcohol!”
“I still have money. Be nice to me or I will get myself a schoolgirl and spend my money with her.”
The school board had passed a message earlier to MrTumbo telling him they would be awarding him with a golden handshake cheque for his many years of service to the privately owned secondary school. He had not left his old ways and had decided to withhold that information from his dear wife.
“Wanja, a round for everyone on me.”
The patrons clapped and screamed at the generosity that MrTumbo was displaying at the Usiku Sana bar. They had no idea where had gotten the money but they did not care as long as the watering hole was not running dry that night.
MrTumbo had his pockets full and he was feeling like Midas, everything he was touching was to turn into gold that night. He smacked Wanja’s buttocks.
“You have no respect old man”
“Don’t call me old man, I am King Midas and whatever I touch turns into gold. You should count yourself very lucky.”
Wanja who was very infuriated at the arrogance and disrespect of the intoxicated misogynistic former Headmaster just shrugged and walked away to serve other tables. She knew better than to start a confrontation with this man who had the upperhand because he was spending the most in the bar and the other patrons in there were literally worshipping him.
“Where did you get this cow?”
“You are supposed to thank me woman, not ask a lot of questions.”
“And what are we supposed to do with a cow. We live in a rental house and there is no grass or even a place to keep it.”
“You always see the problem in everything. You have been complaining that I am a good for nothing man but now that I have bought you a cow you are still being an ungrateful bitter woman.”
Apparently, after King Midas had had too much to drink at the bar an opportunistic patron had managed to con him into buying an old sickly cow. That’s what he had taken back home to his woman.
“Tajiri, please help me with my homework. I don’t understand these mathematical questions.”
“I would love to help you right now Pendo but I can’t. I have to go somewhere.”
Mr Super-Rich-Guy had other plans. Plans to get into panties of some lass she had spotted a week ago. He was not going to let a little girl ruin his grand plans with some stupid homework. School was a useless thing to him and he had spent his time regretting all the money his parents had wasted on him in school.
“Who is it?”
“Don’t ask me ‘Who is it’”
“Tajiri, is that you? What do you want?”
“Your stupid cow has chewed my shirt. You have to pay me.”
Tajiri had gone earlier to the clothing line only to find MrTumbo’s cow with the shirt he was supposed to wear for his skirt hunting escapade. But not even that would stop him. He was relentless and not even the fires of hades would stop him from releasing the frustration locked up in his loins. He had to pick another shirt but not it was not his first choice. Or at least the one that would have won him some points with the ladies.
On his way to see Rukia, Tajiri passed by a farm with a variety of flowers. Word had been she was not an easy to please lass. You either had to have a shitload of money or some sort of superpower for her to even look at you twice. Tajiri well knew ironically he was no rich man despite his moniker meaning a rich person in Swahili. So he knew a bunch of flowers would have done the trick. He quickly snuck in the garden of flowers and started with the red roses. Tajiri did not know this was also where the owner of that farm had his beehives. The sneaky little bastards with wings had done a number on the face of the intruder who had no courtesy to even knock and exchange a few pleasantries with them. Tajiri fled with a swollen face and screaming to his ancestors to rescue him from the wrath of the bees who were not going easy on him.
After that day the legend of Tajiri the poor boy had spread like an urban legend. He was a villain in your usual story but to those who had heard about him he was Superhero of sorts. His superpower was being a bad example. And the parents especially loved him because he was the perfect metaphor to tell to their mischievous children to get them in line. He was the story told to kids to warn them about what happens when you don’t abstain from sex. You get a hideous face. Deadpool hideous.