The Sponsor

Fred

Fred jumped over a puddle of sewer, and ran almost bumping into an old woman on the roadside trying to avoid a motorbike from hitting him. He moved from the tall buildings that housed corporate offices in Westlands and walked into a residential area. A gated community with pine trees lining the road and corrugated iron sheets seating on top of the houses heads.

There was a Jeep packed outside the house whose gate he was ringing. It was a minute before a face appeared on the other end. A guard wearing blue overalls with a sinister look.

"What's your name?"

"Fred."

"Who are you here to see?"

"Josh."

Five minutes passed before the gate was opened. It was quite a distance to the main house almost thirty meters. He got to the door and pressed the doorbell.

"What's the pass-code?" a voice boomed.

"My life, my rules."

The wooden door was unlocked, a head peeped out then the iron door clinked open. It was dim inside even though the sun was up in the sky outside.

It took a second for Fred's eyes to adjust to the darkness. It was a large empty house. Nothing like what it looked on the outside. There was an AK 47 leaning against the wall, you could not see it but the two chaps inside the house had glocks tucked into their checkered shirts.

There were all sorts of powders on the small table. Close to the edge were bottles of Monster energy drink which the two boys took a swig from after every five or so minutes of chewing their khat.

"Are you here for the usual?" Josh, the short one in combat shorts and dreadlocks asked.

"Yes, give me three rolls of weed this time."

"Uh, the guy has a bit of money today." The chap who Josh did not bother introducing said. He was in black pants and a golden tooth which you had no way of telling if it was original or fake.

"If you've got a bit of dough we'll give you something better than weed. Something that will take you straight to heaven," Josh chirped.

"Just give me the weed that I'm used too."

"Look, because you're a frequent customer I'll give you a bit of powder. Just draw it into a line with a paper and give it a sniff and tell me what you think."

"Guess it wouldn't hurt to try."

"I'll tell you for free my friend if the hit doesn't get you to another world come and slap me on my face and like Jesus I will turn the other cheek," the tall chap said with a smile, his golden tooth gleaming in the dim light.