Angela and Joe became friends when they represented their school in a science competition with other schools while Angela wasin grade ten and Joe was in grade eleven. Angela was a goddess; she was not just a beautiful young woman, she was a beauty with a brain. Angela lived with her widowed mother and her younger sister. Angela was the first born of her parents and had a little sister.
Angela’s father was a business-man whose company was declared bankrupt and his entire assets sold to pay his creditors. He became emotionally unstable, hence he decided to stay far away from his relatives in KwaZulu-Natal. He had lived in Mangweni for thirteen years before he died. He was hit by a car when he was coming home drunk, and Angela’s mother was pregnant with Angela’s only younger sister, Jane
“Wow!” Joe whispered, “Please, come in Angela.”
“Who is that Joe?” Michael asked as he slammed the door of his room.
“Mind your business, brother!” Joe exclaimed as Angela came into the house.
“Oh, Gorgeous!” Michael said as he walked towards Angela and said again, “Hello, my queen.”
“Where is your queen, who is your queen?” Joe said rhetorically as Angela smiled.
“He is just jealous,” said Michael, “Oh, please, inscribe your name on my heart. Oh, intoxicate me with your love. If they say more fool me for loving you, I don’t care,” said Michael while he bowed down to Angela.
“But those are my words,” exclaimed Joe as he smiled.
“Do you want to sue your own brother for plagiarism?” Michael asked while holding the hand of Angela.
“No, I won’t. I will sue you for flirting,” replied Joe, and they all laughed.
“OK,” responded Michael, “If you find me guilty of a crime, I will be guilty of selflessness and solicitude for you, Angela.”
“Now, I will sue you for plagiarism and flirting,” intoned Joe, as he served a cup of juice to Angela.
“You are very funny, Michael,” said Angela as she sat on the couch.
“The world is a boring place without me,” Michael bragged, and then gulped down his juice, “It is already five past one; I need to see Martin.”
“Tell him that I will see him on Sunday; I will see him tomorrow,” Joe requested. And as Michael was about to leave, “That’s my diary.”
“Are you sure?” Michael asked rhetorically, “Let me check, if it’s yours. Hum! Oh, it’s truly yours. I have found a proof.”
“And what’s the proof,” Joe asked.
“Angela, you ask me for the proof,” Michael demanded.
“OK, what’s the proof,” Angela asked with a smile on her face.
“Good! I think of nothing else but you, my love…,” Michael read the first line of the poem out, but before he could read the second Joe stood up, and Michael dropped the diary on the couch and rushed out, “Bye!”
Tell us: What do you think of Michael?