I also want some of what they claim Fresh Kid takes

The last couple of weeks have been very strange. First, I saw the name Fresh Kid on my social media timeline so much that it made me wonder what milk brand was doing such rounds. So, I went about asking. To my consternation, grownups mocked me.
“Who do you know in this city?” they asked.

“So Fresh Kid is a person? Not milk?” I persisted.
Someone kind enough explained the rest. Days later, the puzzle I had solved painstakingly deepened. A minister called Kiwala or something like that was apparently livid with the fame Fresh Kid was courting and enjoying. Like Otafiire who entered into a yellow tent-like garb and told people that one presidential dreamer would sell the country to his American cronies if voted into office, the minister ordered Fresh Kid back to class.

That is the trouble with accents and substituting L and R. Where the rest of us say Fresh Kid, someone was on Flesh Kid. That is how allegations that the kid could be on a cocktail of drugs began.
Now, a seven-year-old who can do drugs and rap, isn’t that worth resurrecting Einstein, Darwin and Jesus to try and explain? I don’t know these things of drugs but I have seen this presidential hopeful assault people, bend a woman over in public and do things Lokodo would faint again if we wrote here—after a round of weed.
And here are some people claiming that Fresh Kid does meth, weed, miraa, kart, cocaine and whatnot. I was so angry at such mendacious malice that I contemplated asking court to compel the allegers to be subjected to those drugs they suggested was responsible for Fresh Kid’s rap.

Yes, like put them in a room with cameras, then let them do the drugs and record their actions. After they have sobered up, they can then be showed the video clips and asked for their second opinion.
Many years ago, we would play football and then stay on the pitch chatting about John Rambo and how Cynthia Rothrock was seductive. During such moments, guys would pull out their stuff, roll it and puff away.
On this particular night, a chap who was getting high for the first time suddenly claimed he had seen cops coming to arrest him. He started whizzing about like a dog on the legs of its master.
Then he suddenly took to his heels. He leaped over the perimeter wall fencing of the village, the barbed wires leaving a deep cut on his thigh. He fell the other side with a thud and tore into the sugarcane plantation.

It was already past 8pm. A manhunt to locate him in the sugarcane plantation did not yield any result. He returned in the morning asking what had happened and how he ended up sleeping in the sugarcane plantation. He denied everything he was told had happened. He remembered taking a few puffs of weed.
Another guy was a little luckier months later. Someone had parked a motorcycle nearby and seeing guys pull a tube connected to the fuel tank and sniff petrol, he gave it a try. But he drew too strongly for his own good.
When we were done with Jet Li and Bolo Yeung tales that evening and making for home, the guy who had been deathly silent from the moment he had sniffed petrol suddenly became hysterical.

He claimed he was seeing two hyenas in a dance competition. He would narrate how the animals were shaking like Awilo Longomba and Gen Defao.
All efforts to persuade him to go home were futile. He insisted on watching the dance competition. Someone slapped him but it didn’t help the drug induced reverie.
Now, I was supposed to have tried weed back then but the experience of the guy who slept in the plantation was enough. And now someone claims Fresh Kid is on drugs. I surely need to try that one, it must be baby weed formula that I can handle.

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