Yes, I have an awkward view of the world, to the world it's my vice, to me it's my virtue.

Today at work, something bizarre happened. Something crude, vulgar and just really fucked up.
My side of the workshop has a massive window that is completely one sided, everybody walking outside on Pretoria centrals street can't see inside, only their reflections. Home Affairs is just up the road and free shelters are two blocks down. So naturally the area is swarming with South Africa's hopefuls.

I was sitting at my bench eating my lunch and rocking out on my Ipod, blasting some wicked beats by Tchaikovsky and Debussy. I felt a tap on my shoulder, it was one of the guys that works in the same room as I do. A fat guy that always reeks of Klippies.
“Hey, check that chick outside there,”
It was a hunched figure in a gray tracksuit covered with small holes and different coloured stains. It had long hair, the same colour as a shagged diesel cars exhaust fumes with a full-on bald spot across the whole top section of it's dome. It's face looked like it had been hanging out a speeding trucks window for 20000km, stretched and covered in blotches, similar to a dirty cars windshield. It's skin had a beautiful brandy tan. I tried to look for the sandstorm that was making the persons journey so hard, but then I realized the poor soul was bordering on being crippled, which explained it's bent figure.
“She's hot,” I remarked. Something told me she was a woman.
“How do you know it's got a flange?” asked my friend politely.
For those who don't know what a flange is, its a mechanical part that takes strain in a motor and apparently resembles a vagina.
“Look, there just above her waistline, two tits,”
“Oh ya, I can check,” He managed to make out the two crests.
She took a seat on the other side of the road, opposite our shop. My friend quickly grew bored and left for his afternoon shit. I was interested and carried on watching her. I paused my Ipod. She took out a bottle. I couldn't quite make out its contents, but I guessed from her bad fashion sense that it was probably spirits, from the Screwman Hardware shop up the road.
Everybody that walks past our shop looks at their reflection in the one way glass. I like to smack the glass and give the vain souls a fright. She was opposite us and never looked at herself once. She took a big slurp, sat still and fell back immediately. She started to roll on the ground, and glided her hands slowly up her torso, making it very obvious that she wasn't quite in our dimension. I seized the opportunity by flicking “my tracks” to a random Kenny G 'sax' solo (I don't have a sick obsession with the 80's, I'm not a homosexual and I don't watch soft porn, sometimes...). I thought the song that started playing was suitable for what was playing out on the street.
I'll called her “Olivia”, because I found that name quite suitable at the time.

Olivia began to stroke the silky tracksuit more rigorously and more passionately now. Rolling in the dust like it was a romantic setting in a nobleman's barn on a bed of hay. A group of black ladies walked past her and laughed and then carried on with their conversation. Olivia was oblivious of them and carried on the sensual stroking, moving closer to her waistline. Slowly, she unzipped the tracksuit jacket and parted it, exposing a white t-shirt (with vomit stain).

By now, I was in tears laughing at was happening.

Olivia resembled a snake, wriggling in the dust. Her hand dived into her pants, and began it's journey into the the black hole. She arched her back and fingered herself harder now.

I really couldn't believe what I was seeing. Kenny was making sweet love to his 'sax' by now, which was doing wonders for the scene.

And then she stopped. Probably after an explosion of pleasure. Her hand still stuck in her pants. She just lay there. Kenny also died down by now. I had to change the track quickly. Moby “Inside”, perfect, heres a link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHBkVYSOE5U to the song if you want to hear it, trust me, it will modify my story.
I started getting scared, Olivia wasn't moving at all, she looked dead still. I ran outside to get a closer look, still no movement. Olivia was dead. It was probably the best sex she ever had.
The tramp who fingered herself


I moved closer, across the street. I stood about ten meters from her. I looked on, too afraid to move closer. Suddenly, she bolted upwards as though a greater force granted her a second chance on planet Earth. She looked round, the same shagged expression on her face that she had before the wild sex. I paused my Ipod. She casually stood up and walked away at the same stressed pace.

Olivia, je t'aime....

My friend was standing at the door. I picked up my phone and dialled him, he answered,
“Ya,”
“She charges R35 for a blowjob and R60 for a shag.”
“Fok jou.”
Subtle.

The loser from the future

There's a guy who works with me, I won't write his name down, because I don't want to offend him. I will call him 'Stanley', because Stanley is a suitable name. I wouldn't really say he's a foreskin or anything, but he's definitely as boring as one. Stanley is 32. When I met him for the first time I thought he was 23, but the creases on the back of his neck, his aged skin and receding hairline made 32 sound slightly more appropriate. Stanley has never had a girlfriend. He never masturbates. How do I know this? Let me explain, I was born with a sick third eye that allows me to spot reckless 'wankers'.

For instance, last year, the foreman couldn't understand why delivery times of our work to other businesses steeply rose within a week. Of course, my 'wank eye' allowed me to sense 'Riaan', our white trash driver, pulling 'draad' in the ladies toilet. His routine became obvious to me after a few days of watching him, park his bakkie in the yard, then watch his cellphone for a suspicious 10 minutes. Most free online porn clips are round about ten minutes and Riaans attention span is around there to. All it took was a stern knock on the door and a raise in my voice to a loud conservative Hoerskool headmaster voice, “Is iemand daar binne!?”
“Ya, ek's amper klaar!”
And after the wank perpetrator was put in place I made sure he got the idea by sending a message to his phone saying: “"geen draadtrek by die werk nie"”, profits shifted by 1.2% after that.

My wank senses don't tingle for Stanley, who has the same bored face of a dog who just laid his spunk on the hottest piece of pooch on the block. But why!? It took some detecting on my part to figure this one out. Stanley is English and drove an orange Beetle in pretty good condition.
“Hey Stanley, I was driving up and down Church last night, you know, looking for a friend, but they were all kak ugly, you don't know where I could maybe go to find a proper friend?”
“Why you asking me?”
“I asked Riaan, but he referred me to some place in Proclomation Hill and not that I have anything against that place, it's just that, I don't know, the people there give me the creeps, I thought cos you stay close to me you might know.”
“Ya, theres this place in Faerie Glen, actually, quite a few, Asian or White?”
Fucking sick, I thought to myself.
“I don't know, ahh, asian?”
And so he explained to me where it was and who to speak to when I got to the gate. That sorted, my wank senses were right again.

Stanley fascinated me. I watched him as he occasionally worked and mostly day dreamed. I began to speak to him more frequently.
“What school did you got to?”
“Why this work?”
“Why whores, why no girlfriend”
Apparently when he left school he went into repairing an engine management instrument that went extinct after the on board computer arrived. He was left without work for 2 years and jumped at the oppurtunity of working where I work. Unfortunately after working on Struben street for five years, Stanley couldn't grasp simple concepts of our line of work and was appointed to doing menial work. Like stripping and cleaning mechanical spares which caused profits to raise by 0.32 %. Not much, and he realized it too, but work is work for him, and sitting at home with no qualification and light at the end of the tunnel, this was an oppurtunity.
“Annuit coeptis” Stanley, I thought to myself while watching him drift into another one of his dreams.
I whipped out my Ipod and played the following track, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ylb9qAhlZlM.

It was at that moment, that something amazing happened. I was sitting at my famous window, listening to that track, eating my lunch, when out of the distance an ancient dilapidated orange beetle appeared. The beetle parked outside my window. In it was a splitting image of Stanley, except with more tired skin and gray hair. I checked to see if Stanley was still asleep behind me. He was! How could this be? The man sat there, watching through the one way glass. His eyes were directed at Stanley. What scared me about this was that the glass looked like a mirror from where the beetle was standing. Nothing inside could be seen from the outside. But his eyes knew exactly where Stanley was standing.

The older Stanley was frail, and looked like a 'sukkelaar'. The inside of the beetle had cooking pans and and pillows. The roof was stacked with all kinds of shit which was held in place by a horribly welded cage. He probably lived in it. The orange paint was barely visible and was close to being completely faded. It was sad to look at. I flicked my ipod to “Lollipop” by Lil' Wayne, and after 3 seconds of it decided this wasn't working. I tried, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FAT6rvpiw9o, Schindlers list. ...........Old Stanley even looked like a holocaust victim.

It appeared too obvious to me that Old Stanley came from the Future to warn his younger self to take the road more traveled and work hard, raise a family and make something of himself. A tear rolled down my cheek as it all became apparent. I ran outside as quickly as I could.

Old Stanley was slowly getting out of the car. He was surprised to see me, he recognized me. Of course he wouldn't make that obivious, which I understood.
“Sorry Oom, but you can't park here, there's parking round the corner, here let me help you". I helped him with a forceful hand to get back into his camper beetle. I then pointed to where he should park, just round the corner next to the taxi rank. I then walked to our security guard Abraham, an obedient young man with big dreams and told him,
“Make sure that ol' man doesn't get in here, he's fucken mad, he wants money for nothing!”

Profits stayed where they were and we never lost that 0.32% that Stanley made for the company.

"Veni, vidi, vici" Stanley............