No good scoundrel, criminal, living through other people’s labor. Victimizing the community, mugging, stealing, we need to show unity. Bring him to his knees, corner him so he doesn’t terrorize the community. Scumiest scum of them all, resides in filth, Fedka the convict. Lurks in the shadows of the night to short change you, clean you out like an empty register. A target if you are walking alone, drunk, or can’t register. Will take all your money, clothes and knife you to death, if you can’t register. Fedka the convict, a scoundrel, a slave to his impulses. Won’t woo a woman, he’d rather take by force to quench his impulses. Men not exempted, will spike his drink to quench his impulses. Scum, low life, irredeemable, rotten to the core, got released and did as before. Fedka the convict, serial stalker, observes in the distance and not a big talker. Then pops up in your face unexpectedly and you thought you were a walker. Not fast enough for a stalker, his job is to stalk her. Fedka the convict, wifebeater and drunkard, gambled away all the family’s money, then slept in the gutters until the night became sunny. His existence, sour with no honey. Fedka the convict, no backbone like a jellyfish, to get money is his biggest wish, to get it, he will do anything, offer his virgin hole without a kiss, take out someone you wouldn’t miss. Fedka the convict, when he finally got the money, went to the tarven and pissed it away. With the same company of people who always lead him astray. The cycle continues, Fedka the convict, no good scoundrel, criminal, living through other people’s labor.
I am sleg, shut the door on your face and put the key in the keyhole to deny you access, I am sleg, ya, sleg. Stand in your way to hinder progress, bin your papers so you don’t process, I am sleg, ya, sleg. Heart black as sin, kwaal nothing you have seen, the examiner with a red pen failing students with zeal. Will void and temper your seal, just to see you beg and kneel, then deny you access because you pathetic and weak, closing powers like nothing you have seen. I am sleg, ya, sleg. Kwaal on another level, turn my back cause your not on my level. I am sleg, ya, sleg. Everything here is mine, mine, mine and you ain’t getting anything. The perimeter is mine, mine, mine, you ain’t getting in. Keep you out even in your dreams, will never ride with me even if you had cool rims. Jealousy and envy off the charts, deny you access even with the right paperwork so you don’t enter these parts. I am sleg, ya, sleg. I enjoy seeing people suffer, see them squirm with pain from my burning sulphur, masochist, I love pain, especially when others suffer. Schadenfreude, a smile on my face thereafter, because I am sleg, ya, sleg. Close the door and reenforce it with steel, confiscate your stuff, they were basically a steal. I am sleg, ya, sleg. Would push you out a moving car on the highway, I don’t care, things must happen my way. I don’t care if your family or friend, things must happen my way, or I cut you off like a useless limb so you don’t get in my way. Cause I am sleg and competition is not my way. I am sleg, ya sleg. I don’t care what you think of me. Will leave you hungry with no food, leave you stranded like you’re no good. Cause, I am sleg, ya, sleg. Closing powers like nothing you have seen before.
Scum, scoundrel, scumbag, piece of shit. Ya, didn’t you know? Now you know, saved you a lifetime. Are you happy with my admission? Did you accomplish your mission? I live with mongrels, drunks and wifebeaters. Black and blue if she overextended, will take you for all you have if you are overextended. Scum, scoundrel, scumbag, piece of shit, now you know, use it against me. I don’t care, wasting my time seeing myself in people who don’t care about me. Claiming to be in my interests but wanting to control me. Using me to further their gains, to supply their inflated ego, what am I helium? Let’s pop that ego. Spiteful pride, weaponizing even food, must be good for your ego. The thing about turning Babyface is that you have to break a few egos. Take that off, mine, mine, mine, endowed with modesty I see, paragon or virtue operating above your ego, I see. An angel blessed with the gift of purity I see. Tomorrow is not granted. You think I won’t push the button, yet you pushed the button, congratulations, your request has been granted. See the beast you have unleashed cause you a stuntman, you take chances, probabilities against you and yet you still taking chances. Sit down, be humble, you don’t know anything. Even if you did, it has nothing to do with me. I am living my life too, what’s your issues got to do with me? Boundaries, stop nonsense, ga le mela le nyatso! Scum, scoundrel, scumbag, piece of shit, ya, now you know. Don’t expect much from me. Keep your distance unless you want to be contaminated by filth. If that’s the way you want to play it, then so be it, I’ll raise you. Pointing fingers gives you false power. Thinking you’re a God but you don’t tower. Just like me, scum, come lower.
Scum, scoundrel, scumbag, piece of shit. Ya, didn’t you know? Now you know, saved you a lifetime.
I am not going to apologize for looking out for myself, I am all I’ve got. Ain’t nobody praying for me, ain’t nobody got my best interests at heart. If you strike, I strike, an eye for an eye, that’s the way of the warrior, ain’t nobody gonna do me dirty. If you ganging up make sure it sticks, a coma will only give me time to recover. Pull the plug on the machines. Atrophied muscles will get some activity and come back to life, then it’s death list five time, I am coming for your life. Don’t start wars you can’t finish, cyanide won’t save you from my wrath, I will leave no stone unturned, I will scour the earth for you and I will get my satisfaction. Death list five, if you are on the offense, make sure you get the job done if not I return with a counterattacking maneuver that will take you out, no apologies, no second chances, you’re dead. Coming for everything you love and value too, wipe off your wife and your kids too. Death list five, you’re fucking with the wrong guy, I can be psychopathic too. Revenge flows through my veins. I am petty, spiteful, I hold grudges, I never forgive nor forget and I am coming for your soul. Cause why care for somebody who won’t give you a second look. Why spare somebody who won’t get you off the hook? Why help somebody whose ambition is to get you shook? Death list five, I am death in the flesh, will break your spirit in dash, get you fired and leave you with no cash. Death list five, leave me alone, you don’t want to cross this line, it will get you crucified. I am a cannibal like the King Cobra, I eat my own kind. I will end you. I am not going to apologize for looking out for myself, I am all I’ve got, I will strike. Death list five, I choose violence, let’s beef, let’s fight.
Pain, pain, pain is in my heart. Trying to put myself together but it just rips me apart. Voices in my head telling me to push the button, cause life ain’t worth it I’d rather be chopped mutton. Every day is a struggle to get out of bed, what’s the use? Life happens without me, it frizzles into obscurity and I am left to watch on the sides observing like security. I am a spectator watching on the stands while life rules me like some kind of dictator. I don’t know who I am and lately I can’t stand what the mirror says I am. Alcohol as a form of escapism numbs the pain, it transports me to a world where everything is sane, supplement that with some white lines and the world just feels insane. Rather that than to be with people who are vain. Abiding to some false narrative to hid the shame. This life is like a sick game and every day is the same. I’d rather be boozed and snorted out on powder, the high is more exhilarating than fame. Pain, pain, pain, it fountains my existence. Often times I wish my life was in the past tense, because I don’t want to do this anymore. My life doesn’t make sense anymore, my friends and family are not with me anymore. I can’t take this anymore, living in a Godless universe with each passing day feeling like a curse. I don’t see the colors in the world and can’t appreciate a poetry verse. I feel like a motherless child, a bastard, an orphan, like nobody wants me. Zoned out on narcotics and meaningless sex. Gambling problems extort me more than tax. Pain, pain, pain, fighting a losing battle with myself. The blows are self-inflicted, I love it like a sadist because it makes me feel. I have a void in my heart that’s hard to fill.
We all try. I think that human beings are inherently good but our circumstances and environment dictate our destiny. How can I be like the picture perfect people on my screens when I am primed to be incarcerated. Surrounded by drugs, violence, guns, death and sex. I am hungry, I want to get to the top and there’s no telling what I might do to get there, pushing you under the bus is a small price to pay for the rest of my life. If you stand in between me and my meal ticket, I won’t hesitate smashing you with a bat behind your head leading to your eye popping out the socket onto the floor. I like gangster shit, that’s how you get things done. If they won’t give me what I want then I’ll take it by force with the help of Mr. 9 mm and if you want war, his cousin AK-47 is keeping watch and ready to unload a hail of bullets on your unconscious, lifeless body. There’s an attraction to being a gangster, who wouldn’t want the autonomy of doing what they wanted, to be feared, respected and idolized. Cause gangsters can do anything they want, they can fuck any girl they want, they have all the money, the get preferential treatment, they drive the latest cars, they kill at will and government officials are in their pockets. Gangsters just don’t give a fuck, honorable mention ‘Crazy’ Joe Gallo, he did anything he wanted like kidnapping his bosses without the threat of any repercussion, he just didn’t give a shit, he lived on the darkside, it engulfed his actions, he loved the chaos, he loved being a gangster! Stealing from you is my pleasure and if you make trouble for me I’ll beat you up so bad you’ll start feeding from a straw, that’s if I don’t kill you and your whole offspring. Also, you need to start paying me for protection or your business is going under. I am not interested in the soldiers on the ground, they are disposable and will rat on you to get immunity, I am more interested in high ranking officials of Cosa Nostra like Michael Corloene or being the Capo like Anthony Soprano. They have a code of ethics and values they live by and they won’t hesitate to splatter your brains like tomato juice if you cross the line. Fredo was a stupid and careless Underboss who compromised the future of the family and had to die, he broke a simple code, a simple law known Universally, “the boss is the boss, never outshine the master”.
Everyone rats, police can flip anyone with the promise of immunity and witness protection programs, we saw this on Goodfellas with Henry Hill ratting on all his friends. The look on Jimmy Conway’s face when Henry pointed at him from the stand was one of betrayal but he knows the game, survival triumphs everything. Would you rather serve a 100 years in prison instead? The Godfather and The Sopranos were no different, it seems that the only people who can’t rat on you are the dead ones. The decision to fly in Frank Pentangeli’s brother for the deposition was a masterstroke from Michael Corloene and once again, he saved the family. Pentangeli nearly fucked things for the Corleone family as multiple counts of perjury faced Michael. And despite being Tony’s best friend for a lifetime, Pussy took a deal and conspired to bring Tony Soprano down. He wore wires, leaked information to the authorities and compromised the whole organization. Luckily Tony got to the bottom of it and along with the crew ended Pussy’s life with a hail of bullets. Your best friend of many decades, your family, they will rat on you if it serves their best interests! Being a gangster is all about self-preservation. To be in the game is to understand the stakes, death is on the corner and can happen anytime. You won’t see it too, if you are in a crew nobody’s going to tell you that you are going to get whacked, it just happens. In a world of deceit and ruthlessness paranoia triumphs and it’s easier to take everyone out like on Casino, cause a dead witness can’t say anything. Strictly business, nothing personal. I could be a gangster cause morality doesn’t matter in a Universe where everything ultimately perishes. At least now I benefit, I get the the drugs, fuck bitches, wear quality clothes, drive expensive cars and live in Mansions as big as Tony Montanas. I could paint houses for Russell Buffalino and Jimmy Hoffa following instructions to the smallest detail. I could be a gangster, I am not a 9 to 5 guy, the money is too slow and the hours too long. I’d rather pull the trigger to end your life in a second and make a fortune. I could be a gangster because life is already a game of self-preservation and power struggles, why not play on a professional level? I could be a gangster cause I was born in the hood, I know what happens in the hood, I understand people and what motivates them and I can dominate the hood. I could be a gangster, maybe not a Mob boss or the head of my own Capo but I’ll be the best damn soldier on the ground. I could be a gangster cause Machiavelli taught me its better to be feared than loved and I think he is right. I could be a gangster, I am reasonable, ambitious and a strategist like Vito Corleone, I have it in me to build an empire from the ground up. Killing in cold blood? That’s a small prize to pay for greatness, a war needs casualties and I’d be prepared to make that sacrifice. After all, everybody dies and the deaths would be justified, I am an honorable and fair man. Threats, intimidation and extortion I could be a gangster, my objective is power and the fear from your eyes gives me a rush. I could be a gangster cause they don’t want to give me what’s due to me so I’ll take it! I could be a gangster, cause we all try.
“Wait! Don’t shoot Gangster! I am you and you are me”.
Set in a totalitarian state, that’s always fun. The subtext communicating that darkness and lack of control prevails. The story world is uncertain, suspicious and not sure of itself. It seeks resolution, justice and truth. The bounds of morality are put through a microscope. What’s right? What’s wrong? Are you right for suffocating your parents with a pillow because they abused you as child? Is taking another life ever justifiable? Definitely not a show for snowflakes. Murder, blood and torture are a running feature in the show. There’s indifference in the murders by the characters for humors sake and just sociopathy. The story starts off in an interrogation room when a writer Kutarian is questioned of the murder of children resembling and mirroring what he wrote in his short stories. The details of the murders and his stories are identical. The detectives even find tangible evidence in his house of the victims severed body parts. The deaths are gruesome and graphic, from razor blades shoved in the throat to toes being cut off leading to bleeding to death. The writer Kutarian claims innocence and the detectives Tupolski and Ariel press down on him heavily to get the truth out of him, deploying “good cop, bad cop” and torture techniques. Kutarian’s brother Michal is also in custody in another room awaiting the same brutish treatment. Michal is a “special” case and the words retard and slow are loosely used to describe him. It is revealed that he is the killer and not his brother. Finding out the truth, Kutarian murders his brother in a jail cell and takes the fall for everything, hoping to spare his brother torture and preserve his writing for years to come. In the end, he too is put to the sword but his work survives for another 50 years.
Unbelievable story, I simply loved everything about the show. The subject matter dark and uncomfortable but it was under the hands of expert storytellers. A couple of hours with an interval, we went deep into the story and understood what motivated the characters. The writer Martin McDonagh is the real hero. The writing is simply exquisite! The pacing of the show, the dark humor, the sharp wit and sarcasm – it contributed some comic relief to a tense storyline. The miniature stories told throughout the story using animation and art projected on the screen was a great touch. We had visual aids, we could see the stories the performers told. That was such a cool experience, I’ve never experienced theatre like that, it’s risky, unsettling, cringe and out of the comfort zone theatre. The show was captivating, a real thriller, I was locked in that world. The performers were outstanding, they stayed in role even after the show was over. They didn’t even take a bow, the story and ending didn’t call for them to take a bow. Darkness just permeated until the auditorium was lit indicating that the show was over. If I were to rate it, I’d give it perfect stars – all the stars! It was an immensely satisfying show.
My hat goes off to Hugh Becker who played Katurian, the writer who initiated all the chaos. Ildi Kungl who played Tupolski, detective number 1 and good cop. Tebogo Tladi who played Ariel, detective number 2 and bad cop and Wentzel Lombard who was untouchable as Michal. Congratulations Paprika Productions for an amazing show, definitely coming back for a second run. Thank you Daphne Kuhn and Theatre on the square for another classic.
A man who has money is beauty for women just like how men look for beauty in women. Granted you wouldn’t marry a woman for her beauty but it sure helps. Money is attractive, money is intoxicating, it has the promise of fulfilling all your dreams. Visions of not having to struggle anymore, gracing balls wearing designer clothes burdened with sparkling diamonds that hang on your neck and wrists, driven in luxury and escorted by royalty. Which girl wouldn’t want to be Cinderella for a lifetime? This time the magic doesn’t dissipate, the clock keeps ticking, the fairy godmother on speed dial and the glass shoes keep on multiplying. Living in Mansions, walking on marble, oversighted by crystal chandeliers, swimming in heated pools and served by foreign butlers. There enters the Gold digger, the manifestation of every man’s fantasy. She represents a tunnel in the repressed subconscious mind. She fulfills you in every way you desire. She subjegates herself to you, granting you power. She soothes and fills what’s lacking in your life. She is your escape in a world were routine triumphs. She is exciting, new and forbidden, uses her body to make you yield into the temptation of her bosom. You can squeeze if you want to, that’s the whole point. She’s yours for a price. The esteem and prestige of being your wife, but no prenups. Also, she wants to be included in your will, a stake in the inheritance fund and half of everything you own and oh, she’ll get it all. Her cunning intelligence guarantees it. You are her gold mine and she’s not letting go. Unlike the typical woman who operates with the right hemisphere of her brain, she is a blend of both hemispheres, she is both feminine and masculine. She is not just a woman whose emotional and acts on her feelings, she thinks, she plans, uses reason and logic, she has drive, she is ambitious! You are the route to her Gucci and Louis Vuitton bags, bespoke designer clothes, red bottoms heels and summer vacations in Monaco.
It was difficult to defend against the Blitzkrieg attack because it enveloped the enemy and crushed it with great speed. It gave you no time to think, no space to move, you were crushed by the weight of the attack. The perfect gold digger is akin to a blitzkrieg attack. You’ll never see it coming, she will crush you and dispose of you faster than the speed of light. Great gold diggers will seduce you, play to the repressed qualities of your being, ascentuate their body features, lower the pitch of their voices, play the demsel in distress, regress to a childlike persona, dominate through passivity to sink their claws in, marry you for your money and then divorce you. They are the definition of deception and smokescreens, they disappear like an illusion, like a dream, like it never happened. After you it’s on to the next one. You have to admire gold diggers because they are ambitious, they are driven, they have will, they want a good life and you are a means to an end. Gold diggers have balls, what makes them great is their ability to tap into their masculine sides while maintaining their femininity. That ambition will get you everything in life. I would love to be a Hugh Hefner, a magnet for gold diggers. To be surrounded by young, hot, beautiful women and have the relationships be platonic and transactional, using my pool and walking around the house in nothing but their birthday suits, oh Hugh cracked the code, the Playboy Mansion is heaven!
Monsters lurk everywhere in the world and it’s hard to spot them. They have learned to camouflage themselves in the darkness, it engulfs and consumes them, blackening their souls turning them into shadows. Analytical Psychologist Carl Jung explains that human beings carry within themselves both elements of the good and bad, that we are both angels and demons, sick, demented, evil, dark, spoiled. Because we live in a world where we have to co-exist to survive, we surpress these undesirable qualities relegating them into the shadows. Unchecked the shadow can grow to consume our personality and rule our subconscious minds enabling us to act unconsciously. Our shadows can turn us into psychopaths who lack empathy and thrive on destruction. The shadow can enable the individual to be narcissistic, egoistic and maniacal. Shedding a light on our dark sides helps in controlling the shadow. Acknowledging you have a dark side keeps the shadow at bay. Life is a balance of both the good and bad, of the light and the darkness. We are both polar extremes of the same spectrum. You are a killer and a murderer, human nature says you are. You might find pleasure in murdering your brother in cold blood. Cain certainly did when he murdered his brother Able to spite God. The murder was premeditated, he felt no remorse, the action liberated him. I know I am bad, I am capable of savagery and genocide. I may even take pleasure in torturing and tormenting you to appease my dark side. Your suffering might even give me comfort. Am I another Jeffrey Dahmer? Would I drug you, strangle you to death, masterbate over your body, have sex with your unconscious body, dissect and sever your body parts, skin the flesh from your bones, cook and eat your body parts for dinner? The capacity for evil in a human being is unfathomable. Maybe I am not familiar with my own darkness. I don’t know what I might do to you in the right circumstances. The story of Jeffrey Dahmer haunts me because he did it time and time again. A serial killer with a death toll of 17. No one was safe, from boys aged 14 to adults aged 33. He butchered his victims, cut off their limbs, drilled holes in their skulls and injected hydrochloric acid, severed their heads and preserved them in the refrigerator, inserted the bones in the oven to burn them and then crushed them with his sledgehammer, he cut his victims into pieces and then boiled them, he cooked his victims and he ate them, he ate them! He used acid and other chemicals to burn the skin of his victims skulls to preserve them. He bleached the skulls and if they were too weak he pulverized them, some he kept and used when he was masterbating. He felt no remorse, it was a compulsion for him, he was conscious of his actions, he knew what he was doing, he wasn’t crazy or diagnosed with some sort of mental illness, he consciously experimented with his victims bodies in his own words to create zombies, he loved doing it, it was his vocation. I don’t want to believe that I am as wicked and evil as Dahmer but I know it’s possible. To deny this is to repress my own darkness and wickedness. To know I am capable of such darkness frightens me. I hope Jung and Freud have an answer for somebody like Dahmer. Maybe it is the ID out of control. Sigmund Freud explained that the ID is the seat of both the repressed material and the drives, to which had been added to the unconscious fantasies and unconscious feelings, notably guilt feelings. Expanding on this idea, Freud states that the mind is divided into 3; into what we call the ID, Ego and the Superego. The Superego is the watchful, judging, punishing agency in the individual. The ID is self-gratifying and amoral and the Ego is the middle ground of the two and strives to be moral. I don’t think Freud and Jung would understand an individual quite as complicated as Dahmer, to try and understand somebody like Dahmer is impossible. I mean he seduced and lured his victims to his place, drugged them, killed them, cut them and sat with the stench of their decomposing bodies. The smell was second nature to him. Sometimes psychology is not enough, perhaps this is a genetic thing, maybe his the exception in the family tree. When he was finally caught he didn’t resist, he was compliant and told the whole truth, every horrific detail, where he hid body parts, how many he had killed, the hearts, biceps, legs he ate, when the killing spree commenced – everything. He knew what he had done was evil and he asked for the death penalty that was not granted because it was banned in his State. He was accepting of who he was, he was not bothered, he was not haunted by ghosts and demons, he was not remorseful, he even had fans who corresponded with him in jail, fans who projected onto him their undesirable feelings, desires and fantasies and he reciprocated back that energy. Jeffrey Dahmer is your definitive example of a monster, he scares me. Maybe I am just scared of myself.
After “Dress Code” things went downsouth for me. It was the girls who kept me relevant for a month, they loved me. They made it hard for Daphne to get rid of me. They would always shower me with gifts, kisses and hugs. Honestly it was like heaven, I felt like I was floating walking on clouds, I was all soft inside, I was intoxicated by them, I was in awe of their talent, I loved them. I did everything above and beyond to please them, I treated them like royalty, like the stars they were, with reverence and awe. I executed every request with efficiency and care. The stage was spotless before the show and the mirrors reflected like diamonds. Cliff’s (Piano guy) water was iced and always on time and on queue before the show. I was professional, courteous, smelled good and dressed with real personality. I was the eye of God who kept watch over everything and addressed every significant or insignificant thing that had the power to affect the tone of the show. It was all about excellence. They were very happy with me. The girls flooded Daphne’s email with compliments about me, she was elated and she opened her purse for me. I accepted but it was never about the money. Quite clearly it was the girls who kept me in the theatre for that long, the staff at the theatre only needed someone to assist for 2-3 day’s tops. “Move in” day can be tough and time consuming as you welcome a new act to the theatre, sets need to be on the stage and it requires planning and thinking. There’s also the issue of the sound and lights, they need to be programmed to the system. Without the sound and lights, you don’t have a show. It’s just a casual job and the guys who help out do their two days and it’s done. A lot of the times the theatre uses young students who are keen to learn about theatre to help out. It’s a win for both sides, the student learns and gets practical and the theatre don’t have to pay for labor. That considered, I stayed for a month! I was also the usher for the girls show and generally everybody liked me and that’s the problem, I was magnetic, likeable and had a ton of charisma, illuminating the place and setting the mood for the show – I was too perfect. Inevitably envy and jealousy sets in and I became a target. Human nature and narcissistic tendencies, I refrained from responding and reacting, I observed like a bystander and was amused by the human condition. I knew what caused the hysteria, mainly that I was too amazing and I couldn’t help myself. I had no flaw, I came early for work, had a lot of enthusiasm, executed every task with perfection and everybody loved me. Around the 3rd week Daphne called me to her office and took my particulars. She asked what I was good at, education, skills and talents and so I shared. We talked for a while and she said she wished she had something for me. Her roster was full. I acknowledged but I was just there for the love. After that meeting I definitely felt the room getting smaller, it was like she was pushing me out but life went on and I got more responsibilities. On the last day of “The Dress Code” as we were clearing the stage, I asked the director “Alan Swerdlow” for the script, I wanted it for it’s format, structure and I was really in love with the writing, it was witty, urban and well written. I also wanted to learn the skill of writing scripts for theatre. Alan liked my energy and appreciated everything I did for the girls, he gave it to me. After knockoff, Reginah from her car saw me from afar with the script and asked “Are you holding a script?”. I walked to her vehicle and replied “Yes”. She continued “You are not supposed to have that”, to which I replied “The director gave me the script”. She replied “No, you are not supposed to!”, I countered “But I want it”, I had the script in my hands. She started having a narcissistic fit and threw tantrums wanting to get out of the car. I watched her attempts to bully me off the script and I walked away from the scene with the script in hand. I left her shouting alone, she was wasting my time. It’s my fault, I encouraged her behavior hoping it would dissipate but she only got more controlling and overbearing, it was time for a receipt. As I was walking away, she shouted “Don’t come back on Tuesday”. It was the same Reginah who took 33% of my pay. She didn’t ask, she just took it in a power move. After “The Dress Code” Move In, Daphne delegated the task of paying me to her. She called me into a room, reached into her pocket and took out R300, gave me R200 and took the R100 stating that she needed it more and that she’d pay me back, she never did. I always resented that action, it was like she was entitled to my pay. I deserved the full R300! She didn’t ask me, if she had I would have given it to her, she took all the power away from me and took it! I judged her character that day and a receipt was definitely on the cards – she was going to respect me!
I defied her and came back on Tuesday. There was no way I was missing “Vincent’s” Move In. I wanted to help with the production, I had been anticipating it for quite some time and luckily, I still had Daphne, she was reasonable, she’d see things my way. When I got to the theatre Reginah isolated me from the team and instructed me to wait for Daphne so we can discuss this script issue. In an act of power, she brought in a student to take my place. Gaslighting, she was downplaying my importance to the theatre, communicating that I was inferior and disposable. I saw that for what it was – insecurity. Everybody loved me and it was warranted, I was a hard worker. I wasn’t concerned, I was fine with any outcome, I stood by my decision to walk away with the script that night, I simply wanted it more, if not for the content then the hopeful connections it had the power to grant me. Daphne came in and we discussed the case. Reginah presented her inaccurate version, filled with slander and smear campaigns in attempts to get me to react. It was just pure lies concocted by her imagination. She was vicious, disagreeable and incoherent, a blind man could see that she was attacking me. She wanted to control me so much that she lost control. I was calm. I presented my case and took responsibility for taking the script and as anticipated, Daphne understood. I went back to the team and helped with the production of “Vincent”, flirting with my female student replacement in the process. In no time my replacement was hooked and mesmerized by my aura. She too was on my side. This was definitely not in Reginah’s plans. I survived but hostilities were brewing. “Vincent” was a success and my replacement stopped coming to the theatre so I reigned. I understand human nature and I realize I was a missed hit, I know a target is still on my back, so I decided to leave on my own terms before things spiraled out of control, I’ll be back later, when things are calmer, when I am in control.
I came back 3 weeks later and everybody welcomed me back with open arms, the script issue was all in the past, they were just so happy to see me. It was the girls who kept me relevant for a month, they loved me and I love them forever.
antakalipa 