Shortly Sir Lugooyo entered the premises with a fine brand new macawiis, a 70s safari suit jacket, an arafat white ilmaamad on his shoulder, and an inappropiate fashionable tool call Cadeey' in his mouth.
Gifted was demoralized.
Already it did not promise a wonderful evening. Mrs. Fiririti, Gifted's hoyo was slightly disturbed yet happy he was not gaalo appearing. She was fearing to impress her son in law with improvised ilbaaxniimo-but since the Sir lug--was as he appeared- there was an enormous relaxation from her and immediate bonding.Mr. Fiririti-was not impressed. When he saw Sir Lug hitting off with his wife, he sized him up. His daughter was safe.
"Husband let us leave the two to get to know each other, lets go to our room" announced the mother. Gifted slightly gigligiish.....pretended to fiddle dust off her new summer white dress lap, as he gazed her eyes down,shyfully. Shy as she was and willing to approach closer as he was--Gifted felt her heart beat.
"So....MR. Xaaji Caalanley....what is your idea of fun"?
Gifted asked as she threw a mili second eye contact and quickly looked on the ground again."Please call me Lug....as much as i like my last name- i want to feel comfortable and personal with u" HE interrupted as he got closer.
As she slighty and trickishly moved further, he continued to speak
'my idea of fun is a village existance. In the deepest rural of kismaayo.Dressed in as i am here today- walking amongst my uncontaminated citizens, my ignorant blissful reer Kismayoons.Aaah how i would love it.
"As Gifted observed such loudly proclaimed nolstagia of delight, coming out of a frequently wet-ted mouth, she began to experience a foreign emotion she has never felt before. An emotion quite unknown to her 22 year old innonent existance in this world.Jealousy.
The delight of this coxcomb man who sat beside her was beaming with sunshine dream. His forehead shinning as he gazed up in the sky, imagining the happy days before him.Gifted was not acustomed to jealousy because of her natural sweet disposition. But this true happiness that this coxcomb felt in the thoughts of retirement in kismaayo caused her great psychological damage.She silently and adorably got up, walked to the kitchen, grabbed the biggest knife she could find, and went back to the livingroom. She sarted stabbing the continueing talking reer kismaayod groom; first on the forehead, then his neck and later his large marehaan lips. It was all a bloody mess, the heroine of this story felt quite a feeling of triumphant acomplishment when she was done. She slowly retreated to her room to email her best friend Basra. 
