My boy, Chad, had his dreams of babes on Clifton Fourth interrupted by his iPhone's alarm timidly ringing at 10:30am. Chad would have woken up earlier but he had been smashing some pool and bezzas with the lads last night and wasn't feeling too lekker. Chad worked for Dad Chad so it wasn't too much of an issue if he went into work late/not at all. Dad Chad would still pay off his credit card, the same way he paid for the eight years of university that Chad took completing his three year degree ("yoh, Pops, the Ikey's Tigers come first, hey. Business Science comes second"). Chad gave an almighty yawn, stretch and "shit, hey!" as he pulled himself out of bed. He looked back at the rumpled sheets, still quite perplexed as to how, although his bed at home always used to make itself, the bed in his flat didn't seem to have that function. It was very confusing to him but he just reckoned that he should go buy a bed with that setting. He had a similar confusion about the clothes in his cupboard, which had also stopped folding and washing themselves when he had moved from home so he had to take them back every weekend. He now stared at the mess that was his closet and picked out his fitted wife-beater vest, some Nike trakkie pants and deliberated over which Nike takkies he should wear to gym that day. Despite knowing that he would be gyming indoors, he put on a cap. After flexing in the mirror for sometime, he high-fived his reflection and jogged downstairs whistling a Goldfish song. Yussis, he was keen for Submerged Sunday this week. Or should he go to La Parada? Always a difficult decision, hey. Thank goodness the Jack Black Brewery night was on a Friday, it would have been a complete nightmare if he had to choose between all three. Downstairs, he made a cheeky Nespresso coffee for a boost before his cheeky gym sesh and grabbed his cheeky protein shake from his more polite fridge.
A quick scroll through Instagram.
"Looking good, china"
"Yussis, boet, you skipped leg day #cheekybugga"
" #TB to #WeLoveSummer. Lekker weekend!"
11:00am, shit hey, Chad, better get moving. Gotta be at other Chad's house for the rugga at 2.
Outside stood Chad's black Porsche convertible. An absolute magic car, Chad's absolute favourite. After he had totaled his previous three, Dad Chad always asked if he wanted to get a different type of car but Chad had to stay loyal, hey. "Stick to what you know and what you know will stick to you", Chad always said. He didn't really understand what it was supposed to mean but he had thought of the saying himself so he decided to make it his thing. The door on Chad's convertible had never been opened (only the passenger door because he always opened that for his lady friends, he's a classy gent hey, treats his women right). The drivers side remained locked because Chad preferred to spring over the top, it looked fucking sick, bro.
He fired up his fine machine, revved the engine a few times to make sure it still sounded like "an absolute tiger" then roared off to Virgin Active (the Silo's club). The wind carried the sound of his five hour Kygo playlist round to every car within a 10 meter radius.
Absolute crisis. Chad arrived at the gym and realised he had forgotten his Beats at home. No stress, though, hey, because he had his Beats Pill in the car. Just as well. He was sure the lads in the gym wouldn't mind if he played his tunes out loud, they were absolute bangers anyway. He would be doing them a favour.
He session was brutal, hey. He benched some mad numbers, made sure to let a lot of people know when their form was off ("I'm like your free, personal trainer, bro") made a jus Instagram stories ("for the fans, hey"). He made sure to let the entire gym know every time he had finished a set by dropping his weights loudly, scream "whoo" and doing a quick pace around while windmilling his arms. In between sets he sat down on different machines and checked his phone. Every time he did this, someone would always come and stand really close to him or ask him if they could use the machine. Chad was busy with it, couldn't they see? Did they see any other seats around here? After his final set, Chad back-slapped every oke who stood within arms length to commend them on the good sesh. He shook his protein with gusto and downed the whole thing in one go ("shit hey boys, who called buffalo?").
12:30.
Ace, Chad had more than enough time for a shower in 40 cans of Axe and a lekker brekkie before heading to the braai. He had to stop off at Constantia Village to get some steaks and Castle Lites too. He sat at his counter, enjoying his FutureLife from box (the dishes took a long time to wash themselves too. It was fine though because Chad found out that putting milk straight into the box worked just the same). Over his brekkie, Chad ponder upon some of the deeper things, should he go to Daisies or Synergy next year? He would have to ask what his mates Chad, Chad, and Brad were doing. Maybe both? If not, why not, hey? Another one of Chad's favourite sayings. He didn't say it first though. He reckons it was Nelson Mandela. That oke said jus things.
"Right," thought Chad, "those steaks and bezzas aren't going to get themselves. Can't let the manne down. Rugga without Castle, absolute crisis bru."
The air of Cape Town was once again filled with Kygo as Chad sped down 80km roads at 120km.
Cheeky visit to Spar and the liquor store next door, for the Castles and maybe some gin. A sneaky G&T always went down well. In fact, Chad was such a fan of the drink he had gotten his number plate to declare his love for it. Only afterwards did someone tell him that he had spelled "gin" wrong ("makes it unique, hey. I'm unique. Only one Chad here").
And it was outside the liquor store that I had the privilege of meeting Chad's absolute beaut of a car. He made sure that no one could miss it because our dear Chad had taken up two parking spots with this beauty. The car deserves nothing less.
Thanks for reading!
(If you happen to know the real life Chad owner of this car, this is a joke. But whoever it is does need to learn to park)
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