Tough, brazen Frankie Snyder is enjoying a happy hour drink at a trendy bar in Johannesburg. He is discussing a hot babe on the opposite side of the bar with the cheeky gay Zulu barman, nick-named Fanta because of his orange hair.
‘Akshully, I think you’re in luck with this one, Baas. She was asking after you.’
Frankie perked up immediately. ‘Really, is that so? What did she wanna know? Couldn’t resist the old dynamo, hey, Fanta? You young pups think you got it all worked out, but when it comes to raw manhood, the chicks know what they want, man.’
‘She wanted to know if you were gay; said it was the way you held your glass gave you away.’
Frankie shot his fist out and grabbed Fanta by the pink bandana. ‘Say again.’
‘No, Bwana, I did good by you, she’s nothing but a lazy whore.’ Fanta smiled a big white subservient grin in mock apology, winking back the tears caused by the tight rein on his windpipe.
‘Don’t push your luck with me, Fanta Give her another drink with my compliments. No funny business, hey.’
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