I only went shopping for broccoli.
Then I saw her.
Beautifully boxed and packaged.
A face like an angel.
“Joi is her name” read the advertising blurb.
“That will be R 2, 500” the checkout girl said.
I smiled as I handed over my credit card.
“Do you wish to tap or put it in?” said the checkout girl.
Looking her straight in the eye, I replied: “You decide”.
I made straight for the parking lot.
Started up my vehicle’s engine.
Joi sat next to me in the passenger seat,
Most comfortably in a plastic bag.
We listened to my favourite track,
On the Buddha Bar Volume 3 album,
Track 7 on CD 1.
Joi never heckled me or picked a fight.
She was comfortably silent all the way home.
I made myself some tea,
She sat on the counter.
The house was quiet.
I pottered around.
It was weekend.
No telephone calls.
Or at least calls I refused to answer.
I put my cell phone on silent.
Double locked the front door.
I removed Joi from the plastic bag,
Marvelled at her perfection.
She smiled back at me.
Her voice in the back of my head saying:
“Undress me, I am all yours.”
But I am a slow starter.
A faintly familiar voice then came from upstairs.
A woman’s voice:
“Where the hell have you been for the past two hours?”
“Did you get the broccoli – like I asked?”