I haven't exactly ever been too keen on going to church. Back when I was little, Sunday School every Sunday afternoon felt like prison. And I determined I was just the Michael Scoffield to break out of the imprisonment imposed by the unhappy Sunday School teachers who kept telling us our hearts were "like this";


*teacher walks to the blackboard, draws a big heart with chalk, then points to the center*.


And kept pointing me out as an example of people whose hearts were "like that" after capturing me for what had to be the fiftieth time for the day I had tried escaping.


Even worse were deliverance sessions. I didn't understand why people just kept falling. And whenever an evangelist came and laid hands on me to pray, I would stand rigid like the ancient orange tree in my father's compund to find out if whatever it was that was knocking them down could uproot me. That was till a certain evangelist decided I was possesed by a strong spirit and took me to the inner room for more intensive deliverance prayers. After nearly thirty minutes of prayers and being surrounded by five sweating evangelists, I was convinced I would not be going home that day unless I did something drastic. So when the next evangelist approached to lay hands on me, I promptly fell in what has to be my finest moment of acting in my entire life.


Prayers still lasted for one hour before I was let go, though.


My disposition towards church remained somewhat like that and deteriorated even worse when I was about entering University. By this time, my mother was convinced that I was possesed by a particularly stubborn spirit that had to be exorcised by, no less, the "prophet" at the end of our street on the recommendation of a neighbour.


As soon as we stepped into man's "Holys of Holys" (as was clearly labelled by the large, hand-drawn cardboard sheet outside the door) the man hissed;


"STOP!"


We paused in mid-step, eyes on him.


"I sense a spirit of unemployment in this room. You foul spirit, begone!"


Now, i'm sure even my mother wasn't sure what the spirit of unemployment had to do with our current mission but, for future purposes, she yelled a vigorous "AMEN!!!!"


He nodded his head and asked us to sit.


"Prophet, I need you to pray for my son. He...."


The prophet raised a finger and my mother fell to silence. Then he pointed at the door and asked her to wait outside. After she was gone, he turned to face me;


"Kingsley."


"I'm not Kingsley," I responded. That seemed to throw him off a bit. "I'm Seun."


"Your brother, Kingsley."


"I don't have any brothers."


The "prophet" wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.


"Your cousin...."


"No cousin named Kings...."


"Well, who do you know that is named Kingsley?" He asked, a bit exasperated.


"My frien....."


"Yes, him. He is making plans against your employment."


"Er, I just gained admission into the University."


He paused for a bit.


"Are you sure?"


Well, I had completed my registration so I was quite sure.


"Then he is making plans against your future employment! Kneel let me pray for you!"


Again, I found myself being hovered over by a sweating person for fifteen minutes. Then he invited my mother inside to join spiritual powers or something of the sort he said.Then I had two sweating people praying over me for another fifteen minutes. At no point did it seem to occur to either of them that one was praying against evil spirits and the other was praying against unemployment.


After it all, my mother was encouraged to sow a seed towards my future employment which she did without hesitation and generously. As we were leaving the "Holys of Holys", a young man was being ushered in. I tarried long enough to hear him say;


"Prophet, my name is Kingsley. I've been seeking a job for the past ten years....."

http://zakuraweekly.com/prophetic-funny-short-story/

over religious naija mothers.

that's our 'present' churches for you. . .
good one there, Boss.

PrinceAdepoju: that's our 'present' churches for you. . .
good one there, Boss.

Thanks!!!

Anytime I see the name 'senbonzakura_kageyoshi' behind a post/story, I always de laugh in anticipation.
Guy, more groundnut for your garri & more stew for your rice!

alizenbohr: Anytime I see the name 'senbonzakura_kageyoshi' behind a post/story, I always de laugh in anticipation.
Guy, more groundnut for your garri & more stew for your rice!

Thanks!

ahhhhh! arrangee deliverance.

alizenbohr: Anytime I see the name 'senbonzakura_kageyoshi' behind a post/story, I always de laugh in anticipation.
Guy, more groundnut for your garri & more stew for your rice!

my mind! walahi!!!

I suppose someone did a background work for the prophet but he mistimed the entry

senbonzakura_kageyoshi: I haven't exactly ever been too keen on going to church. Back when I was little, Sunday School every Sunday afternoon felt like prison. And I determined I was just the Michael Scoffield to break out of the imprisonment imposed by the unhappy Sunday School teachers who kept telling us our hearts were "like this";


*teacher walks to the blackboard, draws a big heart with chalk, then points to the center*.


And kept pointing me out as an example of people whose hearts were "like that" after capturing me for what had to be the fiftieth time for the day I had tried escaping.


Even worse were deliverance sessions. I didn't understand why people just kept falling. And whenever an evangelist came and laid hands on me to pray, I would stand rigid like the ancient orange tree in my father's compund to find out if whatever it was that was knocking them down could uproot me. That was till a certain evangelist decided I was possesed by a strong spirit and took me to the inner room for more intensive deliverance prayers. After nearly thirty minutes of prayers and being surrounded by five sweating evangelists, I was convinced I would not be going home that day unless I did something drastic. So when the next evangelist approached to lay hands on me, I promptly fell in what has to be my finest moment of acting in my entire life.


Prayers still lasted for one hour before I was let go, though.


My disposition towards church remained somewhat like that and deteriorated even worse when I was about entering University. By this time, my mother was convinced that I was possesed by a particularly stubborn spirit that had to be exorcised by, no less, the "prophet" at the end of our street on the recommendation of a neighbour.


As soon as we stepped into man's "Holys of Holys" (as was clearly labelled by the large, hand-drawn cardboard sheet outside the door) the man hissed;


"STOP!"


We paused in mid-step, eyes on him.


"I sense a spirit of unemployment in this room. You foul spirit, begone!"


Now, i'm sure even my mother wasn't sure what the spirit of unemployment had to do with our current mission but, for future purposes, she yelled a vigorous "AMEN!!!!"


He nodded his head and asked us to sit.


"Prophet, I need you to pray for my son. He...."


The prophet raised a finger and my mother fell to silence. Then he pointed at the door and asked her to wait outside. After she was gone, he turned to face me;


"Kingsley."


"I'm not Kingsley," I responded. That seemed to throw him off a bit. "I'm Seun."


"Your brother, Kingsley."


"I don't have any brothers."


The "prophet" wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.


"Your cousin...."


"No cousin named Kings...."


"Well, who do you know that is named Kingsley?" He asked, a bit exasperated.


"My frien....."


"Yes, him. He is making plans against your employment."


"Er, I just gained admission into the University."


He paused for a bit.


"Are you sure?"


Well, I had completed my registration so I was quite sure.


"Then he is making plans against your future employment! Kneel let me pray for you!"


Again, I found myself being hovered over by a sweating person for fifteen minutes. Then he invited my mother inside to join spiritual powers or something of the sort he said.Then I had two sweating people praying over me for another fifteen minutes. At no point did it seem to occur to either of them that one was praying against evil spirits and the other was praying against unemployment.


After it all, my mother was encouraged to sow a seed towards my future employment which she did without hesitation and generously. As we were leaving the "Holys of Holys", a young man was being ushered in. I tarried long enough to hear him say;


"Prophet, my name is Kingsley. I've been seeking a job for the past ten years....."

http://zakuraweekly.com/prophetic-funny-short-story/

for what?

For ur mind you type sense. Efffect of too much ogogoro and indian hemp

Chimaritoponcho:
for what?

Omexonomy: For ur mind you type sense. Efffect of too much ogogoro and indian hemp

<in phyno's voice> my niggas be puffin dia gud kush .when we go presidential lyk we george bush "royal highness" we chilling in cloud9

Omexonomy: For ur mind you type sense. Efffect of too much ogogoro and indian hemp

<in phyno's voice> my niggas be puffin dia gud kush .when we go presidential lyk we george bush "royal highness" we chilling in cloud9

So baws you be guy. I think say you be girl oh. And why don't you make use of your writing skills well on NL. You are good and am sure you know it

usmanspihn: So baws you be guy. I think say you be girl oh. And why don't you make use of your writing skills well on NL. You are good and am sure you know it

thanks! I try my best.

Nice one...

hahaahhahahahaahahahah....... actually he had an info abt the said kingsley thinking he did be the first person the come see him that day.................... see falling hand

Plenty formats dey now. Three in five cable channels is trying one format or the other. And still maga dey fall, mumu dey sow seed. Lol. Some of them(fake prophets and pastors) dey here o! Hahahaha

senbonzakura_kageyoshi:

Thanks!

when are u starting ur magazine.??

Chimaritoponcho:
for what?

Quoting the whole post just to show your stupi.dity?
You need to be castrated.
Ewu

@szenbo.. Nice one.

Haha!

The dialogue between him and the prophet were hilarious.