MMC: Gripes

This is what happens when you have a shitty weekend, Ztembe fumed. Too short a weekend was the response she gave to all who bothered to ask how her weekend had been. Why can't there be a day between Sunday and Monday, why?

The Phone rings cutting her off from her mental diatribe.
"Yes?" she barks into the phone.
"Zee darling, I see your phone-tiquette has not much improved as your bedside manner," the voice drawls from the other end.

Ztembe's face undergoes an instant transformation, "Oh hi darling, I apologise. I've just been so caught up with work. It's like Monday's my personal demon sent to torment me."

There's laughter from the other end of the phone, "oh you! You've always had it in for Monday, free the lady jare."
"Lady ke? It's a man noni. Monday's so a man or what are you trying to say?" her voice tilts dangerously low as she asks the question.
"Abeg, I didn't call you to have a discourse on feminism or any of your other 'isms'. What time you closing from work?"
"Hmm, it's Monday o, let's consider that."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I'm not so certain myself when I'd leave, but I'd give you a call when I'm about leaving. Is that ok?" she asks.
"That'll be fine." the voice confirms. "You didn't even ask me why I want to know," it continues.
"Jay, I know why you're calling, leave matter for Martha. Thanks for checking up on me, got something to look forward to now."
The voice laughs again, "you're welcome dear. So, I'd be expecting your call. Try not to kill someone today eh?"

Ztembe laughs off the comment and proceeds to end the call. Where art thou Monday? I'm ready for you.

Kool Kat