In the last dozen years, I have often been ulizwad about me ‘style of writing,’ let alone the ‘Sminglish’ – which is really just mostly Engsh (not ‘sheng’) with Russki pre-fixes attached to the end, like nails to the feet of man Jeso on da crucifix (sasa why imam twanging like it is the eve of Easter, yet we just nexta X-mas)?
Consider a story of a crowded City-Hoppa @ mid-day.
A yut in a funny ngepa accuses an older chap of skumaing him ruffly n deliberately, every time passenjas alight. (Kwa hizo mat za shagski towns where there is no Michuki law against standing). Then a seat becomes vacant n the yut rushes to sit on it b4 the old man can get to it.
A coupla hours later, the teller of this story – Mr. Q for Queneau – sees the yut at a market-place with his peeps who is telling him his fly is open coz the zip is kaputski.
So many styles to tell this storo, but lez look at dem in X ways.
De-Stingo style.
In a shags bus (not to be confused with a trespass), I saw (not an eyesore) a chap (not a cap) with a Rao beret (and not a round of beer or bayonets) which cap was encircled by a plaited cord (and not the party CORD, or an uploaded cat). As peeps pushed and shoved (and no sheep shooshing or pupping), a prim neck (and not a numb prick) yut displaced the latter (not lacerated the display).
The chap complained (not the chaplain composed) but seeing a free place (not placing a frisbee) made a bee-line for it (not bade me lie in the bed of bees, honie)!
Later I perceived him (not high arsed peeved him) in front of the market place (and not in the palace at Marrakech) talking to a friend (and not trending on the inder-ned) about a zip on his fly (and not a fly bae zipping by).
You could also do the same storo in poetic Onomatopoeia, like so : -
On the platform of pla pla pla bus, chuff chuff chuff, which was a city-hoppa (and hopping still like a shagz grass-hopper), it waz about noon, ding dang dong, can Cathos recite the Angelus?, when a ridiculous ephebus, poof poof, who had one of those Kangol caps (kangaroo!) suddenly turned (twirl twirl) on his boo neiba angrily, grr grr, and said, ‘mbona waniskuma basi ikisonga?’
Ha ha.
Whereupon, phftt, he flung himself into an empty seat and sat down, plonk!
The same day a bit later, ding dang dong, I saw the chap in the cap in da company of anutha dude, poof poof, ma homie, ma ace, ma dawg, ma bro, ma facebook friend request aksed, requested n accepted – who was tawkin’ about open flayos like ya fer-gat to zip up after visiting thayos n now ya pendulum hanging out like ‘swing swing’ n Phiso stoodies trying ter calculate the number of the oscillations.
See how ‘Smitt-style’ easy it is to tell the same lil storo, in three different direxions? ;-)
