Free Death By Carbs by Paige Nick

punched animate or inanimate? Or previously animate and now inanimate?’ the man asked.
    â€˜It was a wall, okay? Are you happy now? A brick wall! Anything else? My blood type maybe? Where I buy my socks? Boxers or briefs? My ID number? Shoe size?’ Frank shouted.
    â€˜Well, there’s no need to be an arsehole about it!’ the man huffed before shifting back to his original seat.
    â€˜Good riddance,’ muttered Frank, downing his drink in one shot, then nodding at the barman to fill his glass once again.
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THE HIJACKERS
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    Wednesday 11:12am
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    â€˜How much do you want for the gusheshe, Lefty?’ Thabo asked.
    â€˜The price has never changed, magents,’ Lefty said, watching them through one eye, working at his teeth with a toothpick. ‘In fact, for you two moegoes, it might even go up.’
    â€˜Ama-Trevor-Noah,’ Thabo said. ‘How about twelve grand, special price?’
    â€˜That’s not the price. The price is twenty grand, I told you,’ Lefty
said, the eyebrow above the scar where his left eye used to be quivering with annoyance.
    Rumour had it that he’d either lost his eye in Pollsmoor, or playing darts with a blind man, depending who you asked about it.
    â€˜Twenty grand for that skorokoro?’ Thabo feigned indignation.
‘It’s not worth more than ten, and you know it. It’s barely driving.’
    â€˜Then be my guest and don’t buy it,’ Lefty said. ‘Nobody is begging you. And that’s not a skorokoro, it’s a classic car. And if you can’t see that, you don’t deserve to drive such a fine piece of machinery.’
    â€˜Oh please, it’s from before the struggle. It’s got over two hundred thousand on the clock, easy,’ Papsak chimed in.
    Lefty shook his head, leaning against the bar counter and continuing to pick his teeth.
    Thabo and Papsak exchanged panicked glances.
    â€˜Okay, look Lefty, we’re not messing you around. We are honest,
legit buyers. Look here, we’ve got fourteen grand, cash,’ Thabo said, fishing his wad out of his pocket and nudging Papsak, who rifled
around in his own pocket and got out his share. Thabo grabbed Papsak’s cash, and held just about every cent they had out to the one-eyed shebeen owner.
    Lefty narrowed his good eye, the lines on his forehead furrowing in pockmarked skin. ‘Magents must either be deaf or stupid,’ he said. ‘What part of twenty grand don’t you understand?’
    â€˜What if we throw in Uncle Mlungu?’ Papsak suggested, pointing to a table across the empty shebeen, where the body was sitting, propped
up against the corner in his sunglasses, his beanie pulled down low.
    â€˜What am I supposed to do with a passed-out white man?’ Lefty asked.
    â€˜He’s not passed out,’ Papsak whispered, and Thabo smacked him on the arm.
    â€˜What? Stop hitting me!’ Papsak shouted, aggrieved. ‘He’s going to find out soon enough. It’s not like we can keep it a secret forever.’
    Lefty came out from behind the bar counter and walked slowly towards the occupied table. He turned on the house lights, then leaned in close to the dead mlungu.
    â€˜What am I supposed to do with him?’ Lefty asked as he straight-
ened and turned back to the two hijackers.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Papsak said. ‘We thought maybe you would want to take him off our hands. You could sell him. Maybe for muti or something.’
    Lefty leaned over the mlungu again, and lifted the dead man’s sunglasses, flinching at the dried blood and black and blue bruises on the dead man’s face. ‘Wait, what have you two done now? Is this that famous professor who’s in the news now?’ Lefty said. ‘That professor who’s making everyone stop eating bread?’
    Thabo and Papsak looked at Uncle Mlungu, then each other. They both shrugged.
    â€˜I’m