After getting lamb kebabs from the Beef Noodle Restaurant in Chinatown we filled up with petrol at a garage in Bez Valley across the road from Ellis Park. The area is quite dodgy but it was the shortest route home and my low petrol light had been making me feel guilty the entire day.
God looked down and saw the slot which usually holds the small grey plastic card was empty and was pleased. I on the other hand was instantly filled with cold dread and visuals of a million worst case scenarios. Out of the darkness of the situation appeared a knight in a bedazzled shirt.
He seemed sincere and I was touched by how affected he seemed by my predicament. He told me he was the owner of Voodoo Lounge and that his brother had a club just down the road where we could get the money I needed. After following him through the dark streets for about ten minutes we found ourselves in front of an old apartment building and I knew that something was wrong. He asked for my cell phone so that he could phone his brother to let his business partner know that we were going to collect money out of the "petty cash". With a smile he told me he'd be back soon and entered the building.
That was the last time I saw him or my cell phone.
What a bitch.
Seriously
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