1.
One day two women dumb political factions,
came to King Solomon The Fat Speaker, and one of
them said:
2.
Mr Fat Speaker Sir, this bitch and I once lived in the same house.
Not long ago, my baby party was formed, and years later,
they claimed my own party was born. Nobody else was there with us, except maybe
a few donors and white farmers and stuff, the usual midwives.
3.
One night while we were all asleep, something we like to do while The
Wolves of Zanuland are out there looting and plundering and eating children,
she rolled over on her baby, and he died. Well, to
be honest, I wrote a nasty letter to her husband and she sent some young people
to beat me up kuma-grocer pakazara vanhu.
4.
Then while I
was still asleepeth - I told you I like sleeping - she got up and tooketh my party
out of my Harvest House. She then went around telling People from All Walks of
Life that the baby was hers.
5.
In the
morning when I got up to feedeth my son my usual renewal bullshit porridge, I
saw that he was dead. But when I looked at him in the light, which was really a
candle because Zesa were being sons of bitches as usual, I knew he wasn’t my kid.
6.
“No!” the
other bitch shouted. “He was your son. My baby is alive! Shiiiit.”
7.
“The dead
baby is yours,” the first chick yelled. “Mine is alive, yoh!”
8.
They argued back and forth in front of the Fat Speaker, like two Avenues hookers – Bibiana and Spathodia - argue in
front of a horny ZRP officer, until finally Speaker said unto them bitches, “Bitches!
Both of you say this live baby is yours.
9.
Someone bring
me a sword.”
10.
A sword – well, more relevantly
an okapi, but in actual fact a rather not-so-violent parliament ruling - was
brought, and Fat Speaker be like,
11. “Cut the baby in half! That way
each of you motherfuckers can have part of it.”
12. “Please don’t kill my son,” screamed
the so-called baby’s mother. “Mr Fat Speaker Sir, I love him very much. Just
don’t kill him.”
13. The other woman shouted, “Nah bitch,
Go ahead and cut the motherfucker fam. Then neither of us will have the baby.
If I can’t have him, nobody else can.”
14.
And so Mr Fat Speaker Sir said, “Don’t kill the baby.” Then he
pointed to the first woman, “She is his real mother. Give the baby to her” … And
then he said, “Nah, in fact, I’m playing. Cut that kid up…”
15. And, having been watching through
the windows and cheering on the whole thing and smelling blood, the Fat Dirty Bastard
Wolves of Zanuland, barking and salivating, came rushing in through the gates
and feasted upon the baby’s carcass.
16.
Everyone in the land, a country that used to be called Zimbabwe
but has now become Zvimba-bwe after being taken over by a wealthy family from
the mysterious Zvimba monarchy, was amazed when they heard how Mr Fat Speaker
Sir had made his decision.