Roadblocks and Angry Cocks

There were so many options for shisha in Dubai – rooftop lounges, clubs, second-floor Bollywood dance cafes, Levantine restaurants and much more. However, DM and Kayo were creatures of habit. When Kayo came back to Dubai, they had the option to hit up the Lebanese restaurants of Bollywood cafes. However, once in a while, they wanted a straight up Egyptian shisha spot that advertised itself as a cafe (though none of them served particularly good fare). Their targets were a few Arab cafes on Riqqa St. or Old Mehta. Their sandwiches were barely passable, and teas were alright at best; but they all served good, strong shisha flavours – grape, mint, sweet melon and so on, in combination if requested.

This cafe they were in was typical of the sort they liked to visit – it was on Rigga St. and had tinted windows that made clear that the fare was geared more towards what could be taken in to the lungs rather than stomach. The decor was the sort that was thrown together after the owner looked up the word “trendy” on Pinterest – warm colours like mocha and aubergine on the walls with a few words painted to give a homey look that someone might post on social media if they were at the right level of depression.

What brought the two men into the joint were the comfy couches (that were cleaned often so that they were also hygienic) and quality shisha that gave them that right mix of good times and nostalgia.

Walking in through the glass doors, Kayo, still wearing his tight grey semi-formal trousers (he had decided to buy most of his clothes in India due to the high quality of cotton and ready availability of custom tailors) and two-tone Bossini shirt from his meetings, put his hands on his hips and sighed.

DM, though much less formally attired in maroon shorts and an old Champion shirt, walked in with a MacBook that had a Binance sticker on it to show everyone that he was part of Dubai’s growing crypto community.

“Kamal’s really been harassing me for us to come to Toronto,” DM said as they sat into the couches with the sort of intention of people who were going to be comfortable but not stay too long (Kayo had a one-hour limit before shisha became too overwhelming and made it hard for him to sleep).

“That would be a depressing visit no matter how you slice it,” his friend replied after giving their order to the rude-as-usual Egyptian waiter who for some reason was wearing a tight white shirt but really loose black pants that made it look like he had a sagging butt.

“Well he has been there a long time, and it’s bound to get more depressing each year.”

“Hmm,” Kayo said, watching people outside since the tinting was just on one side of the glass walls and doors. “You notice people here are moving much faster than before?”

“Well yeah, lunch hours decreased and wages also fell.”

“Does anything except anxiety decrease in work life in this city?”

“You’re asking me like I’m in the Ministry of Human Resources.”

Just then a sack-like form half-pushed and half-fell through the glass double doors of the establishment. Attached to the sack top were two chubby legs and arms like the trotters of a pig.

“Why you didn’t pick a place close to the parking area?” it asked.

Kayo blinked and strained with the light suddenly coming in and then said, “Sameer?”

“Yes it is me, Ras al Khamaih ka Sameer!”

“Ras al Khaimah?”

“I mean, I live there.”

The sack seemed lost for a moment. Sameer looked like what might happen if a large number of salamanders came together in Voltron formation to create a man that resembled them. The one difference is that whereas salamanders are thin, Sameer was fat.

“Why are you here?”

“Listen,” Sameer said now, pointing a chubby finger at Kayo, “I can understand that you didn’t like my work. But to talk shit about me to students – that is disgusting.”

“What do you mean?”

“You told one that I was fired. That is defamation!” The fat finger now pointed up at the ceiling.

“Big word man,” Kayo said. “But, you were fired.”

“But, aaah,” Sameer said, sitting down. “So tired, walking to here. But that was not for student mismanagement. This is slander!”

DM sighed and opened his MacBook, shaking his head.

“Listen Sameer,” Kayo said, motioning at the waiter. “You had a great ride. We hired you out of pity and kept you for two years with no results. Sure we cut your salary one year in, but then you got that other job using the fact that you were working for us. By the time they and we fired you, you used both those jobs to get a new position somewhere else. Not bad for a guy who was bumming around Saudi and Sharjah for 2 years looking for a job. Why not be happy with that?”

“Bloody bastard,” Sameer responded.

“Of course you’re not happy. Since now someone somewhere might find out you got double fired for being useless.”

Sameer noticed at that moment that five waiters were standing around him. Just as he looked up at them, they all began hitting him in unison. Some used brass trays, while others just used their fists. One who had just been broken up with was using the hard under part of his shoe to hit Sameer.

DM took a quick photo with his phone for his memory vault.

“Usthaz, you asked for new pipe?” one waiter said, handing a disposable pipe to Kayo.

“Shukran lek,” Kayo said, taking the pipe out of its plastic packaging.

As the waiters continued to hit Sameer, Kayo deftly put the pipe around the fat man and used it to choke him in a periodic way, letting him breathe for a few seconds, and then choking again.

“Hmm, Ethereal is going up,” DM said, raising one eyebrow to the sound of Sameer’s fat body falling through the glass coffee table.