And That’s Why- You Don’t Play Games With A Savage, Darling
The Savage (species XXX): A wily, experienced Stickman. One that carefully tracks down his mark and strikes at the opportune moment. With devastating efficiency. DO NOT PLAY WITH A SAVAGE!
The following is a true story. The events depicted took place in Washington DC, circa Spring 2017. In deference to the other main protagonist in the story, her actual name is not used. But due to the sheer hilarity that ensues, it would be remiss not to tell the rest of the tale exactly as it occurred. Warning: Some adult content.
Early 2017 was a halcyon time for me, man. In February, my Patriots won their second Superbowl in three years, accomplishing the feat by beating the Atlanta Falcons in the most incredible fashion imaginable. Tom Brady dropped his magnum opus. A night for the ages, one of the best of my life. Then in May, I finally completed my bachelor’s degree in Chemical/Environmental Engineering, ten years after I started out on what turned out to be my personal Odyssey. The feeling was indescribable; like I’d just scaled a physical mountain. I felt on top of the world. For that first half of the year, I was as happy as I could remember being in a long time- life was blissful. Nothing could put a dampener on my mood- I was on a roll.
My last few months in college were particularly eventful. Academically, I struggled to stay energized, as was my tendency during the winter months. But the sight of the finish line kept me going, and the arrival of spring weather gave me a much needed final boost (it’s no coincidence I was born in early April, I think). On the other hand, my social life was a different story. Having had since the fall semester to survey things on campus, I had now settled into a groove with which I was comfortable. I’d found my super-duper-senior swag, so to speak. Bald head, trendy glasses, scruffy beard…the whole nine. I kept it fresh. “Who the fuck is that guy that just quietly goes about his business, they wondered. He doesn’t say much, just comes and goes, looking so unassuming”. Ki ni omode mo (translation from Yoruba: The young’ins didn’t know shit). My trap was set, ready to be sprung.
I’d had my sights set on Kristina for a minute. She was cute and attractive but not like super hot- she had that fine East-African thing going on, which I was well into. Caramel skin, curly hair, slim thick…you know what I mean. Although we’d been taking classes together since the fall, we didn’t really interact much until the spring semester. Initially, we talked about our shared passion for mental health awareness (she suffered from anxiety). Later on, I found that Kristina was into spirituality just like I was- well not quite like me, actually. She kind of wore her Christian faith on her sleeve, in contrast to my more laissez-faire approach. Our cool vibe was cemented by the fact that she also smoked weed, although despite my best efforts, never with me. It was as though she could read my impure intentions- she warded my invitations off dismissively. “I’m never going to fuck you, Sanmi”, she told me plainly one afternoon, after I’d asked yet again if she was down to get high together. I tried to hide my surprise at her bluntness.
“Never’s such a strong word though. Why not?”, I replied.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you, but if you must know, I’ve been celibate for the last six months, and I plan on keeping it that way.”
“Six months, huh? I respect that, truly.”
I didn’t push the matter further at that point. It wasn’t the right moment. I liked challenges, and I considered this to be just another one. See, I may have been wrong, but I believed very much that despite her protestations to the contrary, Kristina wanted to have sex with me. She just wasn’t quite ready to admit it yet. She had a pretty naughty sense of humor buried deep beneath the chaste exterior- another thing we shared- and she’d drop little hints that made me question the strength of her celibacy vow. I sensed that Kristina struggled with her commitment. I was cool though- I’d seen this movie before. I wasn’t going to force her into anything she didn’t want to do. We were still three months from graduation- there was plenty of time for the situation to change.
Since a quick bake and bang was out of the question, I had to refine my approach. I decided the right strategy was to fall all the way back, dial back my offense. Akin to punting on fourth down. Pin em deep and play tight defense. I did certain things- like occasionally attending Kristina’s bible study group meets (which she really appreciated). I also stopped asking her to get high with me, and kept our conversations strictly clean. Weeks passed, and I waited patiently for an opportunity to present itself.
It finally arrived one night in late April, as the pressure of final exams was beginning to take its toll. We’d been studying for hours, it was late and I was dog-tired. Kristina and I decided to take a break. The plan was to go get milkshakes at McDonald’s, and use the walk to clear our heads in the cool air. On the way, she decided it would be a good idea to get her vape pen from her room- the weed might help her concentrate better, she said. I didn’t really see the sense in this, but my mind was at alert now, the beast in me stirring. I’d never been to Kristina’s room- I’d kept my distance. But something about her body language suggested she was finally extending an invitation. I picked up on this and pounced immediately.
“I’ve actually never seen your spot. You know, I used to live in The Towers a few years ago. I wonder what kind of changes they’ve made to the place.”
“You can come up. I’m an RA, you don’t need to sign in”, said Kristina.
“TOUCHDOWN NIGGA!”, my chest screamed, but my body remained relaxed. It wasn’t yet time for the end zone dance. You know, “act like you’ve been there before” and all that. “You sure?”, I said, giving her a look full of meaning. She didn’t blink.
“Yeah, of course. It’ll only be a minute”.
“Right, of course”, I thought to myself.
Kristina lived in the dormitory popularly known as The Towers, which was about a block’s distance from Micky-Dees. From previous experience, I knew about the reputation of the place for being a central hub for sexual liaisons. I walked at a brisk pace, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head and casting furtive glances around to make sure I wasn’t spotted on this clandestine mission by someone who would recognize me. We eventually made it to the front desk; I could have sworn the attendant was trying her best to hide a tiny smirk as she waved Kristina and me in. I felt a bit self-conscious. I really shouldn’t be here, I thought. I’m too old for this shit. Okay okay, calm down nigga, nothing’s happening yet. She’s just here to get her vape pen, like why are you always reading into shit, man. Pull yourself together. Let her take the lead. You don’t need to…
“This is me…”
I’d been so immersed in my soliloquy that I hadn’t realized we’d exited the elevator and that I’d walked about 10 feet down the corridor past Kristina’s room before I heard her voice. I sheepishly grinned in embarrassment but Kristina had already disappeared through the door, leaving it open for me. The room was quite spacious but was dimly lit, with the only light coming from a fluorescent bulb fixed to a wooden desk in the corner. Plopping my tired self onto a squishy beanbag, I tried to quell my racing thoughts by taking silent deep breaths while Kristina fiddled around looking for something, presumably the vape pen. I spoke first to break the silence.
“Nice room”, I said. “Mine certainly wasn’t this big…”
“Yeah, thanks! Man, I’m so stressed. I don’t think I can do any more studying tonight. Just gonna smoke a bit and crash.”
“Yeah, me too…I’m pretty beat. I fucking hate P-Chem, all that abstract shit. Can’t wait for it to all be over, to be honest.”
My lips were forming these words but my brain was in overdrive. This was it- here was my chance, at last. I needed to make the pitch soon, before the moment passed.
“Do you have anything to drink”, I asked. It was the best I could come up with.
“Nah, haven’t done shopping in a while, sorry. I only have weed, haha”. She twiddled the vape pen invitingly between her fingers.
“I wouldn’t mind doing a bit of that actually. I’ve got a long ride home- could use a little something for the road.”
Kristina scrunched up her face as if weighing the pros and cons of what she would say next. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like forever as I awaited my fate. The tension was gripping. Finally, she responded.
“Sure, why not. I’ll get the grinder.”
I don’t need to spell out what happened next in all its grimy detail; We smoked a bit, and then we fucked, and it was pretty damn good. Afterwards, I went into the bathroom to take a leak, feeling quite happy with myself. It was now past 11 pm; I had to get home and get some rest because the P-Chem final was set for 9 am the next morning. I was just thinking about how inadequately prepared I was when I heard it faintly. It sounded like someone was speaking, but I couldn’t make out who it was from the bathroom. I quickly flushed the toilet, washed my hands and opened the door. What I saw next came as an almighty shock.
Kristina was on her knees at the edge of the bed, head bowed, reading out loud from what I recognized was The Bible. She had a look of fierce determination on her face. I was trying to hold myself together, but I felt an unbidden roar of laughter issue from my mouth. This was ridiculous, it didn’t make any sense. Was she really doing this right now- praying, with that same mouth?! After all the dirty talk she’d been spitting, and the…well, the gushing display she had put on just a few minutes prior? I finally realized how much the celibacy vow must have meant to her, the depths of her anxiety issues- but still, what the fuck was this? She’d invited me to her room, she’d never expressed any objections. I had no idea what to do- console her? Join her in prayer, perhaps? Or maybe I just ought to get my shit and get the hell out of the place. I eventually decided on the latter, but only after I’d tried to pull her up and comfort her a bit. I did my best, but Kristina wouldn’t budge. She was running through a bunch of Psalms as if her entire life depended on it- “The Lord is my Shepherd, he maketh me to lie in green pastures”- Nah this ain’t about him girl, I thought- “Forgive me, Lord!”, she cried, her voice increasing in volume. It was a surreal scene.
I called an Uber and left her to her devices, man. It may have been kinda shitty to leave her in such a state, but what was I to do, I was freaked out. Also, it felt as if I was intruding on something deeply personal. So I left. My night’s sleep was very troubled and the next morning, I was in no mood to write an exam. Luckily, I’d done well enough throughout the semester that I didn’t need to absolutely ace the final, just needed a few points to get a passing grade. After it was over, I was walking out of the hall when Kristina suddenly appeared in front of me, smiling broadly and looking chipper.
“How did it go?”, she asked. I was confused by the question. Was she referring to the exam, or something else…
“Err, okay, I guess. Listen, about last night-”
“Last night was a sin against our souls, Sanmi, a grave mistake”. She sounded serious. “I’ve sought God’s forgiveness, and you should too.”
“But you seemed-”
“It’s okay, I’m fine. It wasn’t your fault. God is merciful, he’ll forgive us eventually. I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah. I feel you. Well, it’s good to see you’re doing better than- anyway it’s all good. So are you gonna start another celibacy challenge now or how have you resolved that? I mean, I had fun, you did too, and maybe-”
“That was a one-off, Sanmi. I’m not doing that with you or anyone, ever again, till I get married. I’m dedicating my body to Jesus. The body is the Lord’s temple and-”
“That’s great”, I interrupted. “Got you. So uhm, I’ll see you around, yeah? Take it easy now, K. Stay blessed.”
We shared a warm hug, and as I watched Kristina depart, I felt a twinge in my heart, though I wasn’t completely sure why. It felt like I’d let my dick fuck up something pure, and that wasn’t a good feeling. “Such is the sad life of a savage asshole”, I mused.
To Be Continued…
Dedicated to The Great Casseneves. AKA Ultimate Savage.
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