Good morning peoples!!
Don’t know about you guys but I feel insulted. In fact, I feel highly insulted. Oscar Pistol-rius had a week (ONE WHOLE WEEK!!!) to come up with a story or explanation and between himself, his lawyer and his family and friends, this is the best they could come up with??!!
It’s like the husband whose wife catches him in bed with his secretary. Wifey is devastated, she storms out of the house and goes to stay with her mother. After a week, she finally comes home and demands an explanation and despite having one week to come up with something almost-believable, the husband goes ahead with the old “she slipped and fell on the D” excuse.
Hey Pistol-rius! How about;
Story 1. “We were into S&M… she was always the dominatrix. She was so mean! She would make me take my prosthetics off then order me to get on my knees. How much lower can I go??!! That night, I just got sick of it and I couldn’t take it anymore. So I shot her.” With that, he could get off with man-slaughter. Or
Story 2. He could plead temporary insanity… or
Story 3. He should’ve turned the room upside down; smashed the tv, broke lamps, upturned tables. Then, he woulda shot himself in the foot blade and stuck to the intruder/armed-robbery story.
So you see how, in a space of thirty minutes, I was able to come up with three incredible yet almost-believable stories? I even added a bit of reverse-psychology in the first one. Imagine if I had a week!
I know I shouldn’t be joking about this but I have very little sympathy for situations like this. And to think Reeva, his now dead girlfriend, was going to stand in front of hundreds of girls in a school the following day to give a talk on domestic violence. I don’t believe the violence started that day… it had probably been going on for a long while. I can imagine how many times he must’ve threatened to go all Gillette on her face. So what exactly was she gonna tell the girls in the school?
The weekend before this shooting, I got a call from a friend at home. Long story short, she was crying because she had no shit left in her. And she had no shit left in her because her boyfriend of two years had beaten the shit out of her after she told him she was going to visit a friend. She complained of pains in her stomach and lower back where he kicked her and she said one of her eyes was swollen shut.
“WTF!!!” said I. “HOW DARE HE LIFT A FINGER AGAINST YOU? IS HE MAD?” I was in a blind rage and I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do from here since she’s so far away. During the shit-beating, he told her that he would kill her and nobody would be able to save her and the worst that would happen is a few years in jail. And it wasn’t the first time. You can imagine my shock when she said, “My sister, na today? Is it because I’m not telling you the other ones?” However, she vowed that it was the final straw and promised to never go near him again.
That night, I was so worried I hardly slept. Very early the next morning, I called her and guess what? OJ Simpson-Pistorius wanna-be himself answered the phone. I hung up and called back later and she explained how sorry he was. She said she gave him a stern warning and threatened to leave him the next time it happens, so he’s on good behaviour now cos he’s so scared of losing her.
A stern warning, I thought. What a brilliant idea! Why didn’t all those dead girls think of that genius idea?
I wanted to ask her for the phone number of her next of kin, a copy of her last will and testament and her ATM pin but I decided it might be too forward of me. And I know she’s not going to tell me if it ever happens again, and quite frankly I really don’t wanna hear if it does. It’s something I will never understand… and I don’t even want to try.
Lord knows I could go on and on but I’ll end here. And it’s becoming irritating ending my posts with RIP.