Nymphomation(8)

‘We made it ten thousand years ago, Gunga,’ one of the guys stated. ‘Where the fuck were you? Back in the jungle?’

‘Very sorry, kind sir, for the delaying.’

Medical students, thought Jazir to himself. And even worse, University Rugby Team. Blue and cream shirts stretched tight over muscle. One of them had a personal blurbfly resting on his padded mountain of a shoulder. The fly was singing the team’s praises: ‘English schools for English tools! No foreign muck. Vote for Purity!’ Jazir recognized the blurb owner, the dreaded Nigel Zuze, self-proclaimed leader of the League of Zero. Fascist bastards…

‘If you please, sir,’ said Jazir, ‘but we cannot be allowing the blurbflies in the restaurant, because of the health regulations.’

‘So throw him out, garlic-breath!’ Nigel shouted, and the party laughed along.

Best keep the feelings tight, thought Jaz. Best make with the soft voice, or else they’ll grow even uglier, if that’s at all possible. ‘Very good, kind sir. If the pet keeps under control. Please you tell me now your choosings.’

‘Prawn Rogans all round!’ cried the Zuze. ‘And make it double quick!’

Jaz calculated the table, found a whole half-dozen of the sad-fuck players dribbling there, each with their creamed-out dominoes lying idle. Jaz pulled back his bile, and said, ‘Oh yes, kind sir, that’s six King Prawn Rogan Josh, very good choice. Did you have bad luck in the lottery? My bones, also, were much to be desiring.’

‘Do we have to put up with this foreign shit just to get a cheap meal these days?’ answered Nigel. ‘I knew we should’ve gone down Whoomphy’s for a burger! And fuck these numbers to hell and back!’ There was a TV in the Golden Samosa, upon which Cookie Luck was frozen for a day in the week’s winning numbers. The leader threw his losing bones at the screen, crying out, ‘Fuck you. Cookie Luck!’ And all the forks in the Golden Samosa were poised around the moment, some of them even banging down in agreement.

PLAY THE RULES

5a. AnnoDomino will not permit the players to become addicted to the game.

5b. The players of the game will not give themselves up to addiction.

6a. We cannot allow society to be threatened by addiction.

6b. We must always be searching for profit.

6c. Rules 6a and 6b must never come into conflict with each other.





Play to Win


Jazir swung back through the kitchen door, calling out for six King Prawn Rogan Josh, and at this very second. The underling chefs took up his order, made it good, made it spicy. ‘Make it extra good and spicy,’ said Jaz, ‘you know what I’m saying? These are medical students we’re dealing with.’

‘Where were you previous, my first son?’ Jazir’s father was working the biggest karahi pan, deftly, swirling a batch of Chicken Dhansak like the master-of-spices that he was. A cloud of dreamy smoke and spices from the homeland cookbook…



Chicken Dhansak

Take one breast of chicken, sweetly cubed, slowly cooked, karahi-bound. Plenty of grease for the English. Add sugar and turmeric and the secret curry paste. Sweet and hot, simmered with lentils and chosen vegetables, and then mate with tender pineapple chunks. From a tin, of course. Add a sprinkle of garam masala, and stir lightly. Traditionally served with brown rice. Although, for the English, only pilau fried rice will do.

Maybe throw in a naan bread or two, for the juices.

Heat Rating: medium





‘I was studying, Father,’ Jazir replied to the deep recipe.

‘Studying the nasty dominoes, maybe?’

‘Father, you know that gambling is against all the teachings.’

‘Good. So you were studying that lodger woman upstairs? Meanwhile, myself and your diligent brothers were suffering a Friday-night onslaught. Isn’t that more than correct?’

Jaz looked over to where his underage twin brothers were smirking at him for being so troublesome. Rogan Josh! thought Jazir to himself. All the karahi paths that I have to burn myself out in before my freedom comes calling, away from the rulings, away from the spices. If only I could win even a half-cast of lovelies on the dominoes! If only to turn Rogan Josh into roguish dosh. Then I would be really travelling! Anything to get away from this stench of burning flesh.

‘Her name’s Daisy, by the way,’ Jazir answered to Saeed, ‘and she’s not a woman, she’s just a girl. And she’s paying you rent.’

‘She’s a white girl.’

‘Oh, you noticed, Father?’

‘I don’t want you messing with her, and certainly not bringing her dishes. Oh yes, I’ve been seeing you sneaking up the outside stairs with the takeaways.’