Category: humour



 

Lucifer adjusts his robes as he perches himself on a stool.
Uriel glances at the celestial time and sighs, impatient to be about his business.

“Honestly, I did’t do anything THAT BAD”
“Udonmeanit…”
The sarcasm flies over Lucifer’s head.
“Serious o. I only said me too I want in on the good good na. You know what they say…”
“I don’t…”
Interrupts.
“What’s good for the goodse, is good for the gander! See what i did there? See?”
A big smile on L’s face.
“E for Effort”
Lucifer frowns and smacks his teeth. “Abeg abeg. Na wa you sef! Anyway! Back to my side of the story! Yes ooooo. Small tin like dis. Oga come dey vex! Allova sudden, I don turn Devil. Juslaidat!”
A raised eyebrow. “If HE was angry, then it was not a small thing
He eyes his companion. “So you been dey dere wit me wen e happen abi?”
His companion sighs. “Carry on”
“Ehen. So I say me I want my own throne. Me sef i want my own praise. Ahn ahn! I don dey shout Halleluyah since HE make me! E never do? Me sef why i no go siddon, dey drink cold water?”
A shocked look on Uriel’s face. “You said what?”
“Ear dey pain you!? I tell am say, Bros G, Me sef i want seat. E no need big like your own. Juss small ting wey i go take siddon beside you so we go share the praise. Not even 50-50. 80-20 na im i talk. Oga come vex”
Uriel’s mouth drops open.
“Hayyyyyy! You have no fear?? Are you mad???”
“Ahn ahn! Is it because I’m telling you something you are now insulting me anyhow? Take ya time o! Anyway! He sha was vexing for me and said i should get out. Ah. After all my loyal service. This life sha.”
Uriel shakes his head. “See, I have 12pm Hosanna duty and it’s almost time. What exactly do you want me to do for you? Beg HIM?”
Lucifer laughs, playfully slapping Uriel’s shoulder. “Beg ke! O ti o. No beg please. Why i go beg am. A whole me! Lucifer! Finest boy in H Town. Baby boy of Life! Ehhhhhnnnn”
He dusts his shoulder.
“So..what then?”
“Ehn. Mo nlo! I dey port! I’m porting outta here so i came to give you proposal, you know we are friends na. Egbon mi!!!!”
Uriel huffs, irritated. “Get to the point! Goodness!”
“Ahn caam daan na. No be Halleluyah you just wan go shout? E no dey tire you sef! Anyway Come and follow me o! I’m going to Earth to control everything! Controller general and tinz. Your boy is gonna blow! If you follow me, i fit make you Deputy Commander because we don be padi for long mehn…”
Uriel stands to his full height.
“Lucifer! Lucifer! Lucifer! How many times did i call you?”
“Ahn ahn na wetin!”
“E be like say you don crase finish abi! So you look me upandan finish, think say na me go follow you chop eternal punishment. You tink say i no know dat be your punishment?? Eez like ya a mad somebody. Belly don dey run you abi? So you look Daddy G.O throne finish and e dey do you WAWUUUUU, you come go challenge am”
“Eiiissss…”
Uriel interrupts. “Ehn! I no wan hear! Do me a favour please. GERRARAHIA! GERRARAHIA RIGHT NOW!”
“Whoolup nigga! Whoolup! Ahn ahn dem no dey follow you play again?”
“Abeg! Carry your play dey go! DEY GO!”
Lucifer angrily gets up.
“Oya dey here na! You too dull sef!  You don fall my hand, guyyyy. Ahn! You don forget na me and you dey hustle for Ojuelegba from day one”
Uriel sharpens his sword on the floor. “You still dey here???”
He lashes out with his sword at Lucifer and he flees, cursing.
Uriel chases after him.

Minutes later, Uriel comes back and sighs deeply and looks at you, the reader.
“E don be for una sha… That oloriburuku go frustrate una die. Ehyaaa…”

————————————–

In my head, the Devil is a disgruntled Nigerian civil servant.

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Monsieur. Madame, bonjour! ( Opening line on one of my all-time favourite anime, Gankutsuou, of course, tweaked to suit the time of the day, but, I digress)
I have missed you.
Believe me? No? Good.
What i have missed is writing. Writing something that makes me chuckle as i think up ridiculous dialogues.
I have therefore decided, to help kick-start my flailing writing career, to start a weekly ‘column’ of sorts.
Satirical Saturday.
I love satires. I love humorous satires. I love my brand of humorous biblical satires. (Merely revealing the human side!)
(Why Saturday? What better day to have sit than the sabbath eh?)
Important disclaimer: This is in no way  mockery. I seek to write in new characters to familiar stories. Characters oft forgotten because we’re too focused on the biggies. They would be of different nationalities (mostly Nigerian, because, Nigerians are funny people).
I would not change ow the stories go and/or end, no fears.
I have actually done something similar here, (A Play)
Enough chitchat.
I do hope you enjoy the first of its kind!

 

Satirical Saturday: The King and The Psychologist

“So…Mr…Solomon?”
“Mr?”
Awkward silence and shuffling of feet. “Oh Pardon me! KING Solomon”
“Should I?”
“Eh…that was just an expression Sir.”
A raised eyebrow. “Sir?”
“Eh..King?”
Regal sigh. “O King, Mr Psychologist. O King”
Awkward shuffling of papers. “Alright, O King. So. You need my help. What might be the problem?”
“What isn’t?”
“Sir? I mean. O King?”
“Yes. What isn’t a problem? Look at the world today. From the state of its dire affairs to that colour of shirt you have on, my good man. Everything is a problem. Though I must add…your shirt really is a fat kid. It takes the cake.”
“Oh. Wow. What interesting…humour King”
Shuffling papers. “Fair enough. So, your notes say you have trouble sleeping?”
“What is sleep?”
“Er. Sleep is a restful period your bod…”
“Rhetorical, Psychologist. Rhetorical”
The King studies his nails.
Beginning to feel unsure of himself. “So…King?”
“You know, starting a sentence with ‘So’ is a sign of one’s intelligence or indeed, as portrayed by you, a lack of one. Such a plebeian thing to do. Tut tut”
“Pardon my ordinariness, Highness”
“Pardoned”
Pause. “That was sarcasm”
“So was my reply. Carry on”
A sigh. “So…I mean. Well. You have described feelings of emptiness? ‘Vanity upon Vanity? All is Vanity?’ I believe was how you put it?”
“Isn’t it?”
Pause. “Isn’t it what?”
“Vanity. Pay attention please. Poor as you are,  you can pretend to manage that yes?”
“Yes I ca…huh.”
A frown.
The King examines his nails.
“You know. I find it worrying that this speck of gold under my nail, inanimate as it is, is doing a better job at holding my attention compared to you, a man who wasted four years of his life in a place of learning. What school was that again? Covenant? Hah! What would a heathen know about Covenant?”
Mumbling under breath.
“Say something?”
Flushed. “Eh! No! Yes! You have gold under your nails??”
A long, calculated look.
“Insolence, dear man. Remember whose presence you sit before”
Whispers. “Apologies”
“Mm. To answer your question. Yes, gold. An ornately designed bedpost and a young dark maiden from a faraway land. Well…former maiden”
A shrug.
“Ah. Ok. Good thing you have mentioned that. Let’s talk about it”
Affronted, half-rising. “Talk about what, you filthy man! My nightly activities? You Philistine! Perversion! Guards!”
Two burly Nigerian touts troupe in.
“AH OMO WEREY! YOU DEY CRASE! YOU WAN DIE?”
“Mercy, King! Mercy!”
One breaks a bottle on his own head.
“IF I FIT NACK MYSELF YOU THINK SAY I NO GO NACK YOU!”
Psychologist falls in a dead faint.
King claps and his guards retreat.
He sits back, watching the prone form of the man on the floor.
Whispers. “O-ye-de-po”
Eyes flutter wide  open and he jumps up.
“Please. Take a seat.”
“In..interesting guards”
“Ah yes. Kamaru and Kasali. Came with one of the maidens. I forget which.”
“Ah” Clears throat. “Well, to carry on. I believe you have…698 wives?”
“700. Just 700. I have two alliances to seal with two warring kingdoms.”
“And you marry their daughters?”
“Indeed. It is part of the Peace treaty”
“I know this may be a top-secret information but permit me one question. How?”
A beatific smile. “Well, as you have gracefully admitted to your wholesome ignorance, I shall give an explanation to my actions. For people must admire my wisdom.”
“You have just insulted me. Sir. King”
A raised royal brow. “Problem?”
Pause. “Now, these two warring kingdoms are indeed so because both Kings have failed to produce male offspring. And because of a lingering distrust, one cannot marry off the daughter to another kingdom without the other feeling threatened. In I come, the wisest man to ever walk on earth. That is a fact by the way. God said so himself.”
“Ah..”
“Do not interrupt me. As I said, In I come. I provide a most suitable solution. I marry both dashing damsels and thus, no reason to fear a betrayal.”
“But, who then rules after the Kings die?”
Another beatific smile. “I would. Of course. Wisdom, my good man. Wisdom”
Clears throat. “Would you say your acquiring of maidens both legally and illegally…300 concubines it says here”
“And counting”
“Oh… Ok… Well would you say your predilection for women is an attempt to stifle your boredom that comes with having it all?””
“As alluring as women are, gentle creatures, they do not ‘stifle’ my boredom. They in fact play no part in relieving me of my, as you put it, ‘boredom that comes with having it all’. Quote. Unquote.”
“Don’t you think having 1000 women for yoursels if a bit..i don’t know… over the top?”
“It is?”
“Indeed! You essentially sleep with a whole village of women! How? Do you have a timetable? Some men are single out here. Don’t you think you’re stealing their future brides?”
A suspicious glare. “You do seem very interested in my women, Philistine. Are you married?”
“Eh. No Sir. I’m still young. I’m only 28”
Snort. “Young. How cute. I was already King then, leading God’s own nation.  I had the wealth of many nations. The gold, the onyx, prized horses of Egypt. Ah… good ole days. But we can’t all be successful people can we? I shall pretend to understand your…struggle life. Awks.”
*Sips tea*
“It can pain. One advice. Get a wife. I do not want to see you sniffing where my ladies are kept. Running to hold the horns of the tabernacle would not save you. Ask Joab. Didn’t save him. ”
Nervously clears throat. “I was planning no such thing Sir King”
“Good”
Silence. Shuffling paper.
An impatient sigh. The King arises.
“Er, we’re not done yet Sir. You paid for an hour’s session”
“I’m taking a walk in my garden to talk to the worms in the soil, Mr Psychologist. They most likely would do a better job at alleviating my burden than you have done.”
Mouth wide open.
King stops mid-stride. “Oh and Mr?”
A whisper. “Yes?”
“Kindly return my money to the treasury. I trust you have not soiled them with your fingerprints? I’d have to throw them into a furnace to have them purified of dirt if you have.”
Without waiting for a reply, King Solomon exits the room.
The psychologist is slumped in his seat, rubbing his face. “Man, I hate rich people. Need a fucking psychologist myself!”
A Nigerian servant nearby. “Oga, abeg dey go. Dem say make I sweep you and your dotti comot for this room”
The Psychologist stand angry. “How dare you! Do you know who I am! I graduated with a PhD! PhD!”
Nigerian servant, unfazed. “How dat wan take consign me? If I close my eye open am and you still dey here ehn! I go wipe you dis broom!”
Psychologist quickly exits the room.
Nigerian servant begins sweeping, whistling.

P.S.A + Rapunzel


So two years today, I was in front of my ragged Toshiba laptop finally registering for a blog after coming across stories from Terdoh and Toolsman’s blogs. A lot has changed since then; for one, I’m not using a Toshiba laptop anymore. Lol.
More importantly, I’ve improved immensely in my writing, If i might say so myself.
Most importantly, I’ve met a lot of interesting people that have all inspired, intrigued and also irritated me (Sometimes, all at once!) This is a thank you to everyone that has stuck with Phantompages; old and new comers. I’m grateful.

Readers, I thank you for the time you’ve spent reading my cravies and good and bad stories. For the constructive criticisms, I thank you. And for the love and adulation (Real and imaginary on my part), I thank you.

Writers, I thank you for the Messages and emails asking if I didn’t mind having your stories up here. I thank you for the help you’ve all rendered, keeping this blog alive.

Ah, as usual, special thanks to a couple of people (I could swear I gave these same set of people special thanks last year!): Eddie (For helping me handle the blog when I almost deleted and for being my close friend and Mother all rolled up in one!), Pemi, Ekwe, P.Mantis (Professional Asshole), and last but not the least, my Fire.

Blogging is a pain in the ass you know. And if there’s anything more painful than blogging, it’s being referred to as a Blogger.
I am a writer; I write. I will be an author one day, when my materials and good and ready to be published.

Umm.. run out of things to ‘say’. So, was running through my STORIES file and came across one I wrote for Achiva’s blog as part of a series. Made me chuckle so decided to brush it up more and put it up here.

Thank you once again for all the care and support.
Watashi wa minasan o aishite imasu!

RAPUNZEL

There lived a man and his greedy wife. They were very much in love but they had no child. The man did not leave her, despite the fact that his mother insisted he did so because his wife was a ‘useless woman who used abortion to scatter her womb’. He was in love and he would do anything for her. Of course, his mother didn’t approve and he could bet she has been ‘Casting and Binding’ sine they tied the knot as man and wife.

Beside them lived a Lagos big girl called ‘Aunty Dollars’. Aunty Dollars was notorious for her diabolical means of making money and bringing customers into her hair shop.
Aunty Dollars has this mango tree in her compound and her neighbors could see it. When Aunty Dollars went to Dubai for holiday, the man’s wife, greedy woman, decided she wanted the mango.
She cried and went to her husband.
“Honey I really want those mangoes at Aunty Dollars’ house”
The man was confused. “I can buy you any mango in the market my love. Must it be her own?”
“Yes! If you love me, you’ll get them for me”
The man was unsure of what to do.
His wife’s long throat increased the more time he wasted time. “I will die if I don’t eat Aunty Dollars’ mango o! I will just die here and you will bury me!” the woman wailed.
‘See me see wahala’ the man thought to himself. ‘On top mango again?’
The man tried to endure but the man eventually got tired of his wife’s nagging and deliberate bad cooking and decided to get her the mangoes.
With his heart in his mouth, he jumped fence into Aunty Dollars compound and got the mangoes.
He thought the matter had ended there with his wife.
For where!
The greed in the wife was something else. This woman started behaving like she was the Patroness Saint of Mangoes! She wanted more!
“Your mates are having children and you’re here looking for mangoes! Is it not thunder that will fire you Idiot!” he shouted one day in a rare display of anger.
He ate burnt, bottom-of-the-pot jollof rice and black dodo that night and with repentance in his heart and hunger in his stomach, he stole the mangoes.
Anything to keep his ‘darling’ wife happy; and keep his from purging his intestines out every night.

Until one day…
“Oho!” Aunty Dollars screamed at the base of the tree, cutlass in hand, catching her thieving neighbor unawares. He hadn’t known she had come back!
“Mr. Man! Aha! So you were the one stealing my mangoes ehn? You don die today!”
She sharpened the cutlass on the floor while the man, scared, stayed on the tree, mangoes in hand, pleading the blood of Jesus.
“Please” he begged. “It was the Devil! She sent me!”
“You will go and meet the Devil today. Ole!”
The man begged and begged, promising anything and everything.
Aunty Dollars, diabolical and crazy woman, thought about it and decided to take him up on his offer.
“Seeing as I haven’t been serviced in a while, I want you to sleep with me for a month” She smiled in satisfaction at the shock on the man’s face.
“B..but…But I am a married man!” he protested weakly.
“Oho! Now you remember you are married abi! A married man that steals mangoes abi! Oloshi! Do you want me to call the whole street to gather and burn you?”
The man begged for another bargain, anything but sleeping with her.
Truth is, it would have been easier if Aunty Dollarz was pretty but OH NO!
Aunty Dollars looked like the ugly twin sister of Eniola Badmus; a walking, breathing two bags of beans with legs.
How was he, a lean man, supposed to survive with such a heap of fat in bed? And what if she decided she wanted to ride him? Would cellotape glue his broken bones? Who would pay for his medical bills?
Oti o!
The man pleaded profusely but she was adamant.
“Neighbors o!!! Come o! Ole dey here! Bring tire!” she screeched, her fat buttocks quivering as she ran around her compound.
Fearing jungle justice, the man quickly apologized and agreed to her demands.
Without telling his wife, the man who climbed to steal mangoes, climbed to play his away matches in exchange for a month as was agreed. He would not admit to it but the sight of Aunty Dollarz’s ample mammary set his flag pole straight; compared to his wife’s lemon breasts.
Like a pulsing G, he scored (Proving his mother right that the problem wasn’t really from him). Before the month was over, Aunty Dollars became pregnant.
After nine months she gave birth to a beautiful girl with very light skin.
Thinking to give the girl an exotic name, she named her Rapunzel, after the fairy tale story. As the girl grew, Aunty Dollars noticed her hair was so long and black.
Aunty Dollars had an idea.

During this time, the prince of the land was going through hard times. He had spent his money on women in Saudi Arabia and his father had stopped his allowance permanently. As he was walking, contemplating on his life, he passed by Aunty Dollars’ house.
“Rapunzel! Open the door!” she shouted with impatience.
The Prince was amazed when he saw the beautiful girl that opened the door for the crazy woman everyone in Lagos knew. More so, he couldn’t believe how lovely and long her hair was. It was so long, it actually reached to her knees!
“Haaaaay! Asanwa baby! Obianuju!” he exclaimed to himself. “Erichaamichaaka!”
The Igbo blood in him sang and in his head, he devised a method to make himself rich.
After weeks of monitoring Aunty Dollars’ movement, he knew when she left the town and that was when he decided to strike.
He crept to the side of the house and knocked.
“Rapunzel. Beautiful egg of Life. Open the door please.”
Rapunzel, shocked to hear the voice of a man got curious and opened the door. When the prince entered, he viewed the beautiful Rapunzel and fell at her feet.
“My goddess! Is your name Maggi nne? Because you’re looking spicy!”
Rapunzel blushed.
“To tell you the truth, nne m, if i die now, I want to come back to this world as the dress you’re wearing just to feel your skin on mine AsweartoGod!”
He licked his index finger and touched the ground.
“Stawpeeeet” Rapunzel gushed, flicking her hair.
“Egovine! Tomato Jos! Omalicha! Rapun Rapun! You have stolen my heart, Please take it but give me the change of your love baby!”
Rapunzel, having never been washed like dirty boxers before blushed and fell in love with the prince.
“Am I really spicy?” she asked shyly.
“Yes baby m! You are o! You’re finger lickin’! So beautiful! Oh can I have a piece of your beautiful hair? To remind me of you every day!”
Rapunzel drank the zobo of Life and like a mumu she agreed and the prince chopped off her hair.
The next day, the prince sold it off as Brazilian hair to his vain sister. He smiled as he counted the money.
“Nna mehn! Lekwa correct business!”
And thus, the hairomance continued.

Rapunzel being a part-time mammy-water grew back the hair in no time and seeing this, the prince decided to open a saloon.
When Aunty Dollars came back from her trip, she was shocked to find out about how badly her business was faring. She enquired and found out that the Prince had opened his own hair salon.
Baffled, she went home to contemplate.
Rapunzel being a mumu in love couldn’t help telling her mother about the prince. She told her mother how they had planned their wedding already.
“Mummy he said he will give me the world!”
“The prince? That useless Emeka boy? That Igbo riff raff?”
“Mummy he is so great and romantic! He asks for a piece of my hair as a token of my affection. He’s sewing a shirt for himself made out of my hair. How cute!”
“So he cuts your hair! That explains it! Ori e o da!”
Rapunzel was confused and asked he mother what she meant.
“Idiot! He is just using you! He has opened a hair salon with your stupid hair!”
Rapunzel was shocked and hurt.
“It can’t be!”

She waited for the next time the Prince would come and she confronted him.
“Where’s the shirt of hair you’re sewing darling?”
“Ah My Akwa Ugo! My tailor is a mad man o! He hasn’t finished!”
Rapunzel smiled sweetly, her eyes hard. “Let’s go meet his now.”
“Now?” The Prince became nervous and Rapunzel knew her mother was right.
With anger, she threw the Prince out of her room window and the prince died.
Rapunzel also found out about how her mother was using her too to make money and she blamed her for the Prince’s death. Everyone knew Aunty Dollars’ reputation as a witch and she was arrested for murder.
Rapunzel decided to go into business for herself.

The neighbor, seeing the resemblance between him and Rapunzel one day added 2 and 2 to make 5. His Math was bad but he knew she was his daughter. His wife already had to children from him, both girls.
He told Rapunzel about her parentage and after DNA test proved him as her father, she moved in with him and handed over her business to him.

He later died, and somehow, along the line, her name changed from Rapunzel to Cinderella.

If you get what I just did there…

The End.

——————————————————————–

Have a lovely week people!


“You don’t belong here” he stuttered angrily, wisps of sparse white hair waning as he shook his bony index finger in my face. I could smell the lingering odour of his hotdog lunch on them and wrinkling my nose, I moved his offending finger away from, making sure he noticed me wiping my hand on my trousers.
I chortled in my head at the hue of anger on his pudgy face, his walrus nose visibly flaring as his thin lips quivered
I stepped back.
“Well Mr Smibly” I said calmly, “I belong here just as much as you do. And there is nothing you can do about it”
I smiled sweetly at him and walked away, sitting at a corner where I knew he would be able to see me. I wanted my black ass clearly in his sight.
The racist cunt.

———
He took a deep drag and blew puffs of cigarette smoke into her face. He knew she hated it whenever he did that, which was the main reason why he did it anyway.
She’d complain but would never leave.
That was the nature of their friendship.
“What is love?” he said, repeating her question.
“Love is that special moment spent in between the legs of a street tart at night in Camden. That is love.”
She huffed in irritation.
She always huffed but never went away.
“Seriously! Just talk!” she said in her whiny voice.
He quite liked her voice; even more so when she was moaning in pleasure. It always made him giggle but she never noticed, too caught up in her ecstasy.
Love. What was love?
“Look, let’s forget love ok?”
He blew another into her face and laughed wildly at his antics and her deepening frown.
“Oh come onnn” he cajoled and she smiled a little, her hand subconsciously rubbing her unobvious baby bump.
How was she supposed to get him to love anything but himself?

———-

She smiled at him.
“So… I am going to ask you out” he said rather ceremoniously.
“For breakfast?” A small smile played on her lips.
“Yes, breakfast. Then I’ll ask you out.”
“For lunch?”
“Yes, lunch. Then I’ll ask you out.”
“For dinner?”
She was clearly enjoying herself.
“Yes. dinner. Then I’ll ask you out.”
“For…”
“Stuck?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
She laughed. “Indeed. I am!”
He grinned and held her hands
“I’ll ask you out to he my girlfriend”
She raised an eyebrow imperiously. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea”
She burst into a fit of laughter, shaking her head.
“My, aren’t you a charmer…”
“So…?”
She nodded. “Sure”
A sly look crept into his eyes. “Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why?”
Imitating him, she shrugged.
“I have no idea”

————–

So, decided to put this up instead of wait till Monday
Wrote these one day on the train and left somewhere in an obscure folder.
Writing it made me smile. Lol.
Oh and a private wink to whom it may concern. 😉

Have a lovely weekend… nah just kidding. 😛
Jana!

Nekochan


Been too quiet here.
So, here’s something for today.

 

NEKOCHAN

tumblr_mfadq0YSwZ1qb6f1po1_1280

I can feel her weight on my chest as she protests angrily.

I ignore her for as long as i can, trying to find the fast disappearing trails of sleep i had been on.

A lost cause; i huff in disgust, slowly opening an eye to stare at her balefully.

She returns my look, glare for glare, her blue eyes piercing my grey ones.

Sighing in admission of defeat, i lift her off me and get up, stretching and grumbling all the way.

“You’re so annoying Shelley” i remark under my breath and she hisses in indignation.

Hmph.

She follows me as i leave the bed, walking into the threadbare kitchen.

“We’re broke you know” i whisper as i open the painfully empty fridge.

“Soon, we’d have nothing to eat but each other”

I smile grimly as I bring out the only jar of milk on the fridge. I sniff it.

A little off but it would do.

Getting two bowls, i pour us some milk, ignoring the blobs that come out of the can.

She sniffs in complaint and i sigh.

“Your old man is a loser, Shelley. Third month and no job. Running out of options here”

She shakes her head in disgust and daintily takes the proffered milk.

I smile, stroking her, feeling her relax under my palm.

“Your old man would soon start writing. You just wait. Forget journalism. I’d write a book, Shelley. A best seller. You’d be proud of me then, wouldn’t you?”

She huffs in disbelief and i smile sadly. Can’t blame her.

I’ve been saying the same thing for the past one year.

We eat in silence and when we done, i run water on the bowls. At least, I still have that.

I clean my wet hand on my shorts when I’m done and together we go into the living room.

She scampers immediately on top of my books on the table by the window sill, as if in reminder, ‘Start writing, bozo!’

I smile at my cat, carrying her away from the table.

“Not yet, you slave driver” i murmur, stroking her lazily.

“Don’t worry Shelley” I mutter sleepily, eyes heavy. “If we get kicked out, I’ll build you a lovely shoebox. Won’t be so bad… for you at least…you’d see…”

She shakes her head in exasperation, bemoaning in her feline lingo, what terrible owner she has. She scratches my chest spitefully and I wince momentarily snapped out of my sleep-induced fugue.

“Don’t swear at me Missy” I slur and slowly, my eyes drift to a close, my only companion and lover, curled in my lap.

———————————————————–

Yes, it is just a simple story.
No twists or turns- or death and doom. (  ..)
Neko is Cat in Japanese.

I’ll be a lot more present here, promise.
Anyway, do have a lovely weekend ahead!
Jana!

Akuko Ilu


Hey!
Today, we’re doing something different (again!).
So PM brought two hilarious and interesting posts to my attention and they were stories made entirely with clichéd idioms.
Check out the stories http://thisismycorn.wordpress.com/2013/02/13/cliche-touche/ and http://thisismycorn.wordpress.com/2013/02/20/the-show-must-go-on-chapter-2/
We decided I could give it a Nigerian spin so I decided to try it out with Igbo proverbs.
You are permitted to read this in Pete Edochie’s voice. Lol
Enjoy!

AKUKO ILU

Okoro woke up that morning thinking all was well in the land of the living. What he did not know was that trouble had come to break kolanut with him early in the morning.
When he heard the voice of his troublesome wife Njideka screaming his name, he knew that Ekete had revealed its buttocks in the market place.

He jumped up, tying his wrapper hastily, getting ready to face his wife; after all, the tortoise said that it always travelled with its musical instrument in case it met other musicians.

She barged into the room and with one look at her face, Okoro knew he was going to eat headache for breakfast.

He made to carry his cutlass, in a bid to escape to the farm on the pretext that he had to look for the black goat in the day time before night came but his wife had decided that morning that it was the head that disturbed the wasp that the wasp would sting.

She held on to his wrapper and screamed at him but Okoro kept his peace, seeing as it took only a matchstick to start a bush fire.

She was asking for her usual; Ego this. Ego that.

He laughed and shook his head at her. His wife was like a chicken and the chicken he was carrying on his head did not know that the road was long. Didn’t she know that present situations have taken the form of a coconut?

Ah, but he could blame no one but himself. What a young man could not see standing on top a tall Iroko tree, the experienced aged man already observed squatting on the grass mat. He had been warned by his parents not to marry Njideka but he refused and true to form, the stubborn fly followed a corpse into the grave.

He sighed.
He had to try settling her with tact because the tsetse fly perched on the scrotum had to be chased away with extreme care. Although he was physically stronger than his wife, the man who woke in the morning and found himself being pursued by a chicken ran for his life for he didn’t know whether the chicken had grown teeth overnight.

His friends always mocked his inability to handle his  irascible wife; what they called his weakness but he never minded them. Only the man who ate palm kernel in the morning understood the language of famine. Moreover, Wisdom is like a goat skin bag, every man carries his own. This was the way he chose to carry his!

He gently told her to be patient because there was no road close at hand that led to Onitsha. He tried to complain about her manners and she reminded him that it was only when a young man lacked money that he complained his wife’s manners were not good.

He laughed at her blaming poverty for her manners. Would she be any better if it were different? If the bird who had not perched on a tree gives off twenty excretions, when it finally perches on a tree, how many excretions would it give off?

She claimed she was a good person and he laughed and told her it was impossible because Dinta had not reported the lack of excrement in the forest.

After her clamouring, she began to cry, throwing herself on the floor of their room. He sighed and sat down.

She and her impossible demands.

He drew nearer to her and held her close because an adult does not sit and watch while the she-goat suffers the pain of childbirth tied to a post. He wiped her tears and told her that he could be like the rich husbands of her friends who waste money. He was only trying to count his teeth with his tongue. If he wanted to swallow a mango seed, wouldn’t he first of all calculate the diameter of his anus? He could only do the best he could.

Things would get better soon, he assured her.

She grumbled in her usual fashion but nodded and he smiled at her but in his mind, he knew she would still repeat her tantrums the next day.

After all, isn’t the yam thief carving tools to dig for yam in his mind even when you are giving him advice?

She would try again tomorrow, he knew; but for now, he was free.

On Africa


Hey!
So, I wrote this last year but wasn’t sure of the right time (and place) to put it up but seeing as it’s a Monday, (and I love it when we think on Monday), I decided to proverbially FUCK IT and post it up here and today!
These are two stories which are allegories based on Africa and the African mentality.
Enjoy!

ON AFRICA

The Leader nodded his head. “This is great!” he said as he commissioned his new project.
His followers nodded too.
“Great!” they echoed.
The people nodded reluctantly.
“Great.” they muttered.
They were after all afraid of the Leader and dared not oppose him.
Not after what happened to some of the so called rebels.
It was fine and great.

A child, unaccompanied by his parents walked past the gathering. He stopped and stared in amazement.
Thinking it was a joke, he burst into fits of giggles.
“No it’s not great Baba! It’s Shit!” he yelled, pointing at the project. “Big heap of Shit! Shit with ribbons but still Shit!”

The Leader was silent, embarrassed. He glared at his aides standing by his side, bemused and with alacrity, they moved towards the child.
“Go away from here! Get out! Are you mad?”
They kicked dust at him, chasing him around. Thinking it was a game, the child laughed as he ran in circles with the aides, chanting “Shit! Shit!”
The people tried to hide their amusement. Men bit their cheeks to stops smiles from blooming on their faces. Women covering their faces with their colourful wrappers, soft laughs muffled.
The mother of the child came and took the child away, afraid.
“Stupid child!” she said, slapping him and dragging him home by his ears.

Silence reigned and order was restored.
The Leader looked at the people and pointed at a man.
“I saw him laugh. Take him away”
The people were silent as the pleading man was dragged away by two of the aides.
Rubbing his hands, the Leader grinned and looked back at the project.
“This is great!” The Leader said again, his smile, daring anyone to argue.
No one did.

******************************

A mouse looked into a mirror.
“Surely, I’m as good as an elephant. I have a tail and I have four legs. Chichichichi
He had no tusks of ivory but that didn’t bother him.
“I have sharp teeth to make up for that. Chichichichi”
He had been told an old tale about an elephant’s fear for mice.
He believed it wholeheartedly and with confidence, he decided to let the elephant know who was boss.
“Na me be de baddest. Chichichichi”
He had 31 swags after all; a pulsing G.

And so the mouse went into the cage of the elephant.
He laughed to himself as he watched the ‘clumsy animal’ wave his trunk like an ‘imbecile’.
Chichichichi! Eysss! Big for nothing! Turn this side!”
The ‘clumsy’ elephant turned at the sound and like an ‘imbecile’ it traipsed around its cage, looking for the source of the voice he was sure he must have heard.
Not locating it, the elephant decided he imagined it and went about its business.
The mouse twitched in death, crumpled beneath one giant limb of the elephant.
Chichichichi…

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So rather that explain what I meant with these stories, I would rather you did that!
Would appreciate it if you give me your understanding or input or whatever you got on these!
And I hope it gets you thinking!

On Wednesday. We got Dionysus in the house!!
Stick around!
Jana!

Day 24 – The Bold Chicken


Hello! It’s a beautiful Monday morning! Kidding. -_-.
It’s a gloomy Monday and what better to boost moods than a story? Yes, I have a story!
Silly-ish! Enoy!

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THE BOLD CHICKEN

Obinna woke up and for a second he had no idea what day it was.
Then he remembered…and grinned. One looking at him would have described his smile as almost feral, yellow teeth glistening dully between dry, cracked lips.
“Today na today!” he murmured as he got out of bed – an old mattress, soft with age.
He yawned, stretching his arms as far as they could go up his head- which wasn’t far, considering his short stature.
‘Small stout’ his friends would call him in jest.

He walked over to the black polythene bad near his bed and after a search, punctuated by his yawning, brought out a white singlet which he donned quickly and left the room. He walked into a sparsely furnished and dark living room and peered closely at an unremarkable clock on the wall. Muttering and pointing, his face was scrunched up in concentration.
“Aha!” he whispered at last, smiling in satisfaction, as if he had just deciphered a particularly difficult code.
“It is thirty past six” he murmured, thirty pronounced ‘taati’.
With another smile, he left and walked into what seemed to be a kitchen. He scurried around in the darkness and came out triumphant with a knife and a bowl.
“Jezas good morning Sir” he sang softly under his breath as he used a key he must have retrieved from the living room to open the door. He walked back in to drop out and came out a few second later, picked the bowl with the knife and walked outside into the morning.
He took a deep breath and smiled, remembering his village. It almost smelled the same, thanks to the grassy pasture his Master and his wife had grown around the compound.
With a spring in his step, he walked to the back of the house, whistling a Christmas tune under his breath.
He got out a stool from a corner and placed it beside the gutter.
He brought the knife and with flourish, swiped it on the cemented ground.
He grinned, part excited about the crisp sound the metal made as it came in contact with the ground.
“Anyi ga eri sha sha! All correct Sah!” he said excitedly, shaking his shoulders in glee. “We will eat prenty!”
He swiped the knife a few more times, and testing its blade with his fingers, he decided it was sharp enough.
He got off the stool, knife on hand and walked till he got to a metal cage where cluckings were heard.
A hen poked its head out of the bars of its cage and Obinna gestured to it.
“Today na today!” he jumped up and broke into a dance, wriggling his waist as he made stabbing gestures to the floor.
“You willi dah-co-rate our prate today” he chortled.
The hen stared at him calmly, head twitching every few seconds.
“Anyi ga eri gwo gwo! All correct Sah!” he mock saluted at his poultry audience and burst into gales of laughter.
“When I serve Oga and Madam food today, I will sarut like dis and say All correct Sah!” he told the hen.
He cradled the knife under his armpit and opened the cage.
As he reached inside to grab the hen, it flew into his face, causing him to shriek in surprise, dropping back and allowing the hen escape.
“Chimo!” he shouted, and gave pursuit, knife in hand, swearing oaths on how he was going to kill it mercilessly.
The hen eluded him, managing to slip from his fingers every time he tried to grab a hold of its feathers.
“I che n’inwa anya! You think you’re bold ookwa ya!” he muttered furiously, trying to herd the taciturn hen to the back of the house.
It made for the front gate and his eyes widened in realisation and horror.
There was a gape just at the base of the gate where the hen could slip through. He had been told to fix it since by his Master but had postponed it due to laziness.
True to word, the hen shimmied through the opening, and Obinna caught it- ALMOST!
The hen disappeared and he heard its triumphant clucking as it ran its merry way off.
Tears came unbidden to his eyes add he imagined the reaction of his Master when he’d wake up later to find out that the Christmas chicken he had bought -quite expensively, as he boasted to his wife- had just run away.
Even more sorrowful, the fact that for the first time in many years, he won’t be eating chicken on Christmas day.

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Eshinshin carry pomo!
Lol dunno why I felt the need to type that!
How is everyone enjoying their holiday? Good?
Well I’ve got no holiday. Got work today. Yes, My boss is a Grinch but hey! Free lunch!
\(^.^)/
You have a lovely day and be safe!!!

Day 17


So it’s Monday and I know how we all love Mondays. Oh you didn’t get the memo? LOL. -_-
Yes, we love Mondays and I decided to write about something i tweeted last evening.

Disclaimer: Blame this shit on Caffeine.

So saw a Retweet about a Sex playlist and this shit struck me as funny. Apparently, some of you have songs you want to have sex to?
Really?
How does that work?
When do you put on the music or when is the right time to put on the music? I’m asking girls because guys don’t do that shit. (If you do, you’re gay, in which case, you’re a chic.)
Let me get this straight:
You and a dude all giggly and messing around, soon the play kisses get intense. You undress. Dude is ready to charge and you say “Hold on let me put on some music.”
Really??????
You now put on some gay ass song with a gay-ass singer (Hey Trey) singing about sex and that shit supposed to be romantic?
If I were a guy, my erection would die instantly. I mean why the hell would I want to listen to some guy telling me he wants me to touch his body?
Or is it R-Kelly? What if the song you put is the guy’s fave song and dude FUCKING STARTS TO SING AND TWERK INSTEAD OF GIVING YOU SOME!!!!? WTF IS THIS?!!
AN INDIAN PORN MOVIE?
Niggas be thrusting and shii and all of a sudden, a couple of other naked niggas appear and y’all break into a fucking dance. That’s what I think of when I hear ‘SEX PLAYLIST’.

How does that even work with quickies? Say he’s driving and suddenly feels the need to offload (It happens!). He parks the car and leads you into a bush.(It happens!) He’s tryna raise your skirt quickly because you’re wearing no underwear (IT BLOODY HAPPENS!) And all of a fucked-up sudden you say something like “Hold on, let me get my phone”
Mans would think you wanna put it off or something and you scroll to the Sex Playlist on your phone and click play?
If I was yo man, I’d leave your music-loving ass in that bush, walk to my car and drive off! I hope your music attracts some wild-ass animals to taste your MUSIC. LOVING. ASS! LET’S SEE HOW YOU’D LIKE THAT!
CRAP!

If I were to make up a sex playlist, I’d make it an Igbo traditional music. Have you heard the drums on them things? FAST!
I would expect the guy to pump in time or faster to that. Now THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT.
But let’s be real, no sane guy would agree to shag to that cause his faggoty-ass don’t gat no rhythm!
That’s some hip-shaking music! That’s the way to conceive FUCKING CHAMPIONS! Hercules wasn’t conceived to bloody Akon singing ‘I just Had sex’ in the background!
If you ain’t gonna do some Igbo Heavy Metal, TURN THAT SHIT OFF!!!
Let us both scream and make our own music; well in my case, you scream in pain and I scream in laughter.

The only reasonable reason I see why you’d want to play music is so no one knows what you doing. In which case, I suggest you to just put on a bloody Christian song. But you wouldn’t would you? You can’t get your groove on with Akanchawa playing in the background can you? Because it would feel like Jesus is watching yo wide, naked ass, calling some next guy yo daddy. You dirry, dirry girl!
If you wanna mask the sound so bad, listen to Celine Dion. But is that possible? I mean one minute he’s pulling your hair the next y’all are hugging and crying, singing “Every night in my dream, I see you, I feel you…”
CRAP!

As I said in my tweet, If you have the time to put on music, the you really aren’t horny to be frank with your thirsty-ass self. I mean it’s  a NEED! Your body is SHAKING! LIKE GRRRRRRRR AMMA GRIND THIS GUY TO THE GROUND! AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR MUSIC AT THIS POINT!
YOU THROW THAT NIGGA ON A WALL, YOU RIP THOSE CLOTHES OFF AND YOU BLOODY. GET.  IT!!!!!
Maybe after the 15th or 16th round when his weak-ass is near death, then you can play some music to revive him, Nahwhamsaying??

If you REALLY insist on a song, I’ll recommend one. Ladies, this song would tell your man exactly what you want. I recommend this STRONGLY.

Tie me Down by Concentus.

Tie Me Down and Fuck Me (Hard)
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

come tie me down – bring the cuffs (At this point his sorry-ass better be working!)

come strap me in – and make me sin
come suck me dry – until i cry
come fuck me hard – until i’m sore (AHMEAN!!!!! PREACH!)

make me scream
make me bleed
make me scream
make me bleed 

tie me tighter
ride me harder
ride me till i can’t speak or scream

tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

come strap me down – bring the whip

come strap me in – and make me sin
come suck me dry – until i die (Ok. Pause. Dafuq…?)
come fuck me hard – until i bleed

tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

never foreplay
come on and tie me down – never foreplay (This right here is the bridge. THIS IS WHERE YOU GO FOR GOLD LIKE YOU IN DA OLYMPICS!)
come on and fuck me hard – never foreplay
come on and suck me dry – never foreplay

tie me tighter
ride me harder
ride me till i can’t speak or scream (HE BETTER OBEY DAFUGGING INSTRUCTION SISTAH!!!)

Wanna know the beauty of this song? IT’S FRIGGIN’ EIGHT MINUTES LONG! It’s long enough for a round! AND YOU CAN BLOODY PUT IT ON REPEAT!

If yo man runs outta the house clothes in hands once it starts playing, HE AIN’T MAN ENOUGH!
If he breaks up with you cos he thinks your preedy ass is psycho, HE. AIN’T. MAN. ENOUGH!

It’s that simple.

I am done.

Have a lovely Monday. I know I will…

Disclaimer: Blame this shit on Caffeine.
In case you didn’t see it the first time, bloody bat-eyes.

Day 16 – End of the World


Allo!
Today, Dionysus is taking over!

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END OF THE WORLD

If the world was actually going to end and you were given a heads-up beforehand, how would you spend your last days? Seriously, if Today was the last day of existence, what would you do before you got swept away by rapture or crushed by meteorites from space?.. Feel Free to voice your opinion at the end of this but let me explore some possibilities of my own…
1. REPENTANCE
Ah, yes!, this is where you’d find most people. They are all holding their bibles or crucifixes or kneeling down in church and praying violently or singing praise and worship with their eyes glazed and staring at the ceiling…the path of mass fear!. We came to this world and right from the beginning, they told us our very existence is cursed! They say everyone born of this world is born of sin and if we deny our instinctive drives, we might get lucky and make it to this place called ‘heaven’. If it is such a burden to actually be sinless on Earth, then heaven must be a place where humans gnash their teeth and weep inside while wearing a smiling façade. Heaven must be like the workplace; Everybody pretending to like each other, laughing loudly at jokes that ain’t funny and all in all, acting like everything is fine when its as boring as watching paint dry. Think about it… Its meant to be a smooth sailing trip from Earth to Heaven, no turbulence, but to live a life without sin is to suffer intense pain from your fellow humans on Earth. The most common pain is the pain of ostracism. I’m not talking about pseudo religious people who only have God’s name on their lips not in their hearts. People who are actually devoted to religion know what I’m talking about. You’d forever be ridiculed by your peers and feel repressed, like you’re denying a huge part of yourself, burying it underneath. You’d feel cheated more than you feel blessed, like you’ve been alienated from everyday life. Its the case of the sinful party chick who gets married to a billionaire while the christian girl is still single and hurting inside. She usually wears a plastic smile on her face and pays lip service to Christ even though she’s burning within. If Heaven where real, going there is not gonna be pleasurable. Solitude is the only true path to heaven, aloneness, loneliness. To really be sinless is to live in solitude. Many Humans cannot deal with solitude so I don’t know why they think they’d feel good if they actually went to heaven…
2. REVENGE
I love this path even though many won’t choose to take it. It is punishing your enemy! whoever he or she is. Since the world is gonna end, you’d just say fuck it and look for that enemy you’ve murdered many times in your mind and actually kill Him/Her in real life. Sharpen your blades! Fuel your chainsaws! Load that shotgun!, make sure that marafucker dies by your hands! Its orgasm to your soul ending your enemy’s life with your own hands.
3. FRIENDS & FAMILY
This is another path people would likely choose. They’d spend time with their friends and family; sit together and go down memory lane, say those mushy mushy words they wouldn’t say on a normal day, stare at the sunset together with Celine Dion’s music playing in the background… You get the picture.
4. INHIBITIONLESS
I also love this path! Since the world is ending today, rip off all your clothes, scream at the top of your lungs, smack a girls ass for no reason, take all the drugs you can find. You’re basically going down swinging! Your last moments on Earth would be so fucking great that the afterlife would seem boring to you (If there’s any)
5. REVELATIONS
Fasten your seatbelts and open your ears wide cause this is where you hear the most shocking secrets revealed!. You might just realise your brother is in the Yakuza or your girlfriend was once an orangutang!. This is where people pour out all their deep dark secrets, clear it off their chest since the world is gonna end anyway. It might be fun to listen to… sometimes.
6. DENIAL
There are obviously those who just can’t believe that the world will come to an end one day (including me). Hollywood has corrupted our minds with special effects and science fiction that we think we’d get plucked by some white light from the sky (the Holy ones) OR we’d witness the Apocalypse and get crushed in the final battle between the Angels from Heaven and the Demons from Hell…Yawn!.. Some people will go to work, come back home and sleep even if the world were ending today. They just can’t accept that strange phenomena like that could occur. It would have been fucking epic though if something like that could happen
This is all I could come up with. Tell us how you’d spend your last days on Earth if the world where ending today.
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Lool! The world ending? Man’s gonna be in a frigging Chinese buffet eating myself to a premature heart attack! Then get married to the nearest guy. Man’s can’t die single. Jesus didn’t die for that. -.- Consummate the marriage inside the church there there. Hotel gini? Are you not hear the world is gonna end ni? My friend will you bring out that penis biko! Are we here to play?
We gats do like 20 rounds…at least.
The End.
😀
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