He didn’t look take long before spotting a container in the corner labelled diesel. He picked it out and went to refuel the mower. He was too deep in concentration to notice Njoro walking towards him in his high gait, jaba in his mouth and a cigar hanging between his middle and forefinger, a cool set of earphones in his ears. He was shaking his head back and forth probably listening to some hip hop or gangsta music. He reached where Kīrīmi was bending pouring the fuel and talked loudly probably because of the high volume of the music surprising Kīrīmi causing him to drop the jerrycan and accidentally spill the contents while stepping on Njoro’s foot which in turn caused him to drop his cigar and boom a blast. They both scampered to safety but the fire was spreading fast which got Kīrīmi to think quick. He spotted the bedsheets which were hanging on the laundry lines and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He grabbed three and covered the fire choking it and thank goodness not much of the fuel was left and the fire died down. Thank God for cotton, now if they were polyester 🤔 He was glad for the wind too which was blowing away from the mower otherwise more damage would have been inflicted. For now only a dark blotch on the grass and the smell of gasoline smoke lurked in the air.
Njoro looked at Kīrīmi stunned at how composed he was and just how swiftly he put out the fire. He had been about to reach the gate and call the fire department when he looked back and saw Kīrīmi running with the bedsheets and thought, ‘what an idiot, does this one want to die on me ooh.’ Just then the fire died down and he looked at him in awe and asked, ‘just how did you manage to do that?’ Kīrīmi exhaled deeply then said, ‘lets just say I used to play superman in ‘Lois and Clarke,’ in the previous world’ 😉 I also work well under pressure. Now if only he was in an interview room 🤔
To be continued.
#StillTheChronicler.
A smoky atmosphere
