Mr Survivor: Queen throws me a surprise birthday party and takes me back to marital nirvana

Queen recently had no choice but to reinstate me to marital nirvana. There are two major reasons why she had to. One, our boys had started doubting her negativity about me. As you will remember from our last interaction here, our last born put her off through a rendition of the story of the woman and the ogre. Queen was so embarrassed that she went to bed without taking her supper.

The second reason, and obviously the most important one, was that Queen’s feminine instincts must have told her that Makena was infringing into her territorial boundaries. Queen has always been very suspicious of Makena, and she has every reason to, but events of the last month in the Palace must have stirred her antennae.

I was therefore surprised when I arrived at the Palace on Thursday evening to find everyone awake. I was served with a pleasant surprise. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear father, happy birthday to youuuuuuuuuu,” the choir sang.

Honestly, I had also forgotten my birthday.

And as they were singing the birthday song, the Happy Valley substances in my head evaporated—almost instantly.

You see, although I had religiously remembered Queen’s birthday among other important days like Mothers’ Day and Women’s Day, and even gone ahead to throw a party in her honour, Queen has never cared, leave alone remembered, my birthday, Men’s Day or Fathers’ Day.

“Thank you very much,” I said as they finished singing the song, and I marvelled at the feast laid for before me.

Two of Queen’s cocks had lost their heads and chapos were in plenty.  As you well know, members of the Happy Valley heritage are not friends of the wheat family and I majored in the chicken. As I served instant justice to the chicken, Queen spoke to me for the first time in a month. Either because of the evaporating liquids or the shock of the rare gesture, Queen looked and sounded beautiful.

“If it was early enough, we could have taken you out to celebrate your birthday. But we can take you out on Sunday after church if you are available,” she said. It was at that juncture that the comedian told me that Queen had said she would accept to go out.

“The car is always there for you. We missed your company last Sunday,” I said.

And so, on Sunday, the full family outing resumed at the luxurious Holiday Premier Hotel, in the outskirts of Ol’kalou town.

Although Queen had said she was taking me out for my birthday celebration in arrears, I footed the bill. But I did not complain. You see, I had suffered enough in Siberia and I was quite ready to give anything to get back to Queen’s fold. I spoilt my family with chicken and chips and bought Del Monte juice, Queen’s favourite drink.

“You need to be very careful with Makena. That woman is dangerous,” Queen told me.

The boys had left us after eating to swim in the floating balloon.

“I have been wondering why her phone’s SMS alerts have been in harmony with yours. How come she just starts sending messages when you arrive and stops when you sleep?” Queen asked.

“I think you know me my dear. I am above such things,” I lamely said.

“Whatever you say, but know that the devil is not a small boy. He is an old grey-haired and white-bearded man. I am a woman and your wife so I know you better,” Queen said.

I did not say anything. It was not necessary and, honestly, I feared that she had hard evidence. Chances that Queen snoops on my digital love life are not remote. But apart from that small issue, the rest of the afternoon was just lovely. We talked a lot about us.

“Thank you very much for the outing,” Queen said as we left the hotel. Now, it was the first time since the last time, which is certainly in a distant past, that I heard a ‘thank you’ from Queen. Whenever she has made use of that rare word from her granary of vocabularies, things have always turned out very good for me.

I was immediately reinstated to my rightful position as the one and only king of the Palace. Consequently, I was recalled from marital Siberia and readmitted to marital nirvana with all the rightful husbandly entitlements and their free, no expiry, lavishments and nyongeza bonga points. As my moniker, Mr Survivor, suggests, that is how I am surviving the freezing hot weather of Happy Valley. I hope the marital nirvana I am living in now lasts forever.

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