A Penile Story

By Austine Arnold

Good people of Wakanda, I greet you in the name of the New Year: It isn’t valentines yet so it still counts. I suppose 2018 is coming through for you quite well, and I hope you get to mightily kick ass this year.

This story is about my penis. I haven’t written in a long time and I feel worse than a retired rusty metal, but it felt like a light bulb moment when that title hit me. I was going to go with “A Story about Manhood” but you and I know you would never have gone beyond the title. So yes, this story is about something that happened to Thor’s’ Hammer, Mjolnir.

That’s how I call it.

Let me tell you the story.

On Saturday, my homeboy Nyakach invited me to a house warming for this house he recently moved into. He asked me to arrive with a Hennessy V.S and I kept wondering who he thought he was to ask for any gifts on the 38th day of January. So I told him all I would be arriving with would be my fat ass.Take it or Leave it. (He left it) But being the good person I am, I got there with a two litre Fanta and mangoes. Mangoes for me: Soda for him and his cousin. Stop looking at me with the side eye: I am trying to live healthy this year and to quit all the bad habits of 2017, because my mid-section seems to be growing faster than the street gangs snatching slay queens’ wigs in Nairobi.

So that you can know the devil doesn’t rest, I found homeboy had fried meat like he was Gordon Ramsay, and I told myself that I was a mere mortal and succumbed to the temptation. And then the devils incarnate asked me why I would put together such a serious layer of meat in my stomach and fail to burn it with his piss. You don’t waste a foundation of meat, you build on it. And that is how we ended up with a brand of alcohol that has asked to remain anonymous for this piece. A shot in and we were already having the fallacies of religion and the existence of God ad hominem argument. In such moments, I throw my mouth like a Moses Kuria.

As you would expect, one thing would lead to another and we would find ourselves at some dark local in Buruburu known as Club 58, sipping more serious things because a sponsor that doesn’t know which month of the year it is had just joined us now, and so things were on high gear. I have been quite the hasty drinker: the kind who stops when the money (and the alcohol) runs out. There has never been any other credible reason why anybody ought to stop something once they start it, go full circle. So it has been the philosophy with the devils piss. Aweyo Kong’o lakini.

At some point in the night though, I got up to visit the gents. I don’t use the urinals, even for the shortest of calls because I like to be a free man. I unzip and then hold my waist as I let Mjolnir handle his business with precision as I think of the next biggest invention that will change the world after Facebook and write the next hit song after Odi dance. So I waited for three people in line and went in and did my business. Then things went downhill.

I took no caution while zipping up. Errrmm, I zipped my penis. I literally zipped a very large part of the glans foreskin because I noticed midway when a sharp sensation hit me. Do you know those moments when your jacket zip gets stuck on your shirt and you have to change clothes? Well, that happened to the big hummer. It was so painful I panicked big time. I stood there wondering why Karma would hit me below the belt {pun intended}.

I started talking to God in my soiled state. God, you are Jehova Elshadai, and you are the Lord of lords. I did not mean what I said during the day to Ricky that you are a creation. I fully believe in you. Please don’t punish me now, considering also that the love of my life also just dumped me this week saying ‘It’s not you, it’s me”. I do not deserve this Yahweh. If I remove this safely my redeemer, I will give my life to you without condition.

And then I pulled the Zip and it seriously tore part of my skin.

So I ran back to the bar and called Ricky. “Houston we have a problem”, I remember joking as he asked me to show him. Now, heres the thing: we men are quite vain characters. We spend a lot of time bragging how we are this and that. So in passing, every man has at some point boasted that if they get a woman well, she won’t be able to walk the next day. But the truth is you have something very little that they will not be able to walk the next day because of shock and disappointment. So when a friend asks to see your manhood, you are cagey at first. But when you realize a zip is up your hammer, you hope they can think of something very fast after seeing.

But mans here thought of nothing, started throwing words about how serious he thought the situation was, and said we needed to call somebody more experienced. ‘Experienced in having a zip up their penis or?’ LOL. He was talking about age: a friend twice our age. Frustrated, I agreed. Now the friend came, looked at the patient in the surgery room, and burst out in laughter, then walked away. I am not trusting that experience bullshit again, not when a zip has your penis by the balls. It’s a scary experience yo.

Eventually, we hoped into a motorcycle with Ricky and headed to Mama Lucy Kibaki Hospital. At the reception, were two gentlemen so we were even lost for words on how to explain my predicament to them. Ricky began a long speech in English on what was happening before I interrupted the whole conversation:

“Chief, zip imekwama kwa penis yangu and I need help”.

The only thing I thought I needed was an anesthesia, so that there would be no pain in opening the zip. So I pleaded with the doctor in place and he admitted me quite fast and had me lie on a slab and injected me with something. I do not know, but I can bet that bozo injected me with water knowing I would feel less pain due to a changed mindset and I would still be clueless. When he touched the zip after two injections, the pain was even more pronounced and they had to get Ricky to hold me like I was a woman in labor. Never worked. In the end we had to resort to using a razor blade to cut most part of the zip and the trouser and rip apart the remaining apart. Which really is what they did and sent me away without any sort of check up or treatment and with a ripped penis after asking for bribe.

You can live your life being such a good servant of the lord, and then one day you zip your own penis. Don’t be too uptight. Live more this year. At this moment, I am one of those guys walking around the house with a lesso. I tried to go out for air and my pretty neighbor asked me this morning why and I just had to tell her I just decided to go for circumcision on Friday and she let out a loud sigh. Now that is a promising match that has gone to waste. So I am not leaving the house again.

I could do with apples and oranges when you come visiting.

But NO, I will not show you the legendary hammer.



  1. Tobias Belleh 25 January, 2018 at 22:38 Reply

    ???All I can say is, sorry about your penis bro. Now my zipping process will be full of paranoia for the rest of my life?

  2. Cindy 25 January, 2018 at 23:51 Reply

    This is one of those stories that are bittersweat you laugh??? then you gotta check yourself…praying to God siku ya exam like Nyasach Loch I did not mean to laugh at Austine. Hilarious story, Pole wuod joluo. Mos ahinya?

  3. Kokota Tales 7 February, 2018 at 09:37 Reply

    Another interesting penile story I have read since reading Biko Zulu’s ‘swans and love ‘. Sorry though for what happened to you Bro. It is hard to walk around with a lesso when you are used to freedom of expression (your legs definitely). It was a great read. I like it

  4. Mrs mjolnir 28 March, 2018 at 12:49 Reply

    I had a mjolnir- named so because the owner was temperamental and ownership was complicated. I thought I was being origi. Kumbe!
    Anywho, now I have to look for another nick coz I sure as hell don’t want the imagery of ur dingdong mister-left, creeping in during fun time.
    Awesome read!

  5. Nyash 23 May, 2018 at 17:47 Reply

    HAHAHAHA! The truth in not being able to walk because of shock and disappointment! LMAO! Sorry about your Mjols…did it get better?

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