WE HAVE NEVER LIVED
(18-year-olds and above)

When she started to struggle, they manacled her hands to her back and had two masked men held her down. Then they tore her gown open and pulled off her panties. Some messed around her breasts while others went round on her. She never experienced such before, so she screamed, grunted, whimpered, wriggled and writhed like an earthworm unto which salt was sprinkled. She closed her eyes to imagine something pleasant, spontaneous defence mechanism, wishing all was a bad dream and she would soon wake up, that the squeezing and thrusting would end soon and she would be relieved to wake away from the dream, but unfortunately, it was not a dream at all, it was happening. She went unconscious for a while and time seemed to have no meaning and then she came back alive again, but just to find these sweating men reeking of dirt and cruelty still pounding on her. Soon, when they were done, she was raised up like a fallen tree to walk but she couldn't, there were streams of blood and sperm running down her thighs and her knees felt absent. They dragged her to a room of an abandoned factory where the used (raped girls) were separately kept and they went out to have another shot with a fresh one, somewhere in a forest, in Northern part of Nigeria.

Somewhere in Abuja too, an ugly girl with badly arranged teeth ran up to her dad. "Father!" She called. "The Abachas gave expensive wristwatches to people as attendance presents at their wedding, i want something bigger for mine."
Her father placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "My daughter," he said calmly, "those guys are just some lucky bastards spending the nation's looted money, but don't worry, I've ordered Mama WorldBank to help ship in Nokia's latest phones from India."
"Ah daddy!" She screeched. "Nokia phones are cheap and only common among poor folks. I don't want those and i also don't want that woman to see to that, she looks like a witch sometimes."
"Then what do you suggest, my dear? You know i'm a very busy man. Those Nigerian people would never let me sleep with all their complaints. 2015 is approaching and you know we have to pretend we care about them. Even if they go to hell, I'll be their president again, i don't care if they're all dead before then. Or daughter, aren't you also enjoying being the president's daughter?"
"Of course daddy, it's freedom-limiting though but quite enjoyable. You made me richer than President Barrack Obama of USA, i'm also the number-one among my friends and mummy also promised to open a jewelry shop for me in Dubai. Now daddy, will you please give me Three Billion Naira? I can get first-class i-phones with gold plaiting. You don't want the Abachas to look down on us, do you?"
"Ah, no. Never."
"I love you dad."
"I love you too. The account i opened for you in a white girl's name in Korea, that's where you'll find the money in the next 24 hours. And love, be careful, i don't want to be reading about you on Sahara Reporters."
"Trust me dad, i'm clever than those poor things."
"I trust you. I see you're so looking good for the wedding."
"Of course, i'm paying my stylist Twenty Million Naira a week, i met her in India. I love you dad. I have to go now."
"I love you too. Take care." He kissed her on the head and she left him.

Somewhere in Ile-Ife, a girl walked into a lecturer's office, shivering. The heavily moustached 63-year-old lecturer looked up and removed his glasses slowly, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He beckoned her over after a few seconds of assessment.
"Lock that door." He instructed.
The girl obeyed and walked closer to his table.
"So, are you finally here or just wandering about for a different useless reason?"
The girl looked up briefly and nodded, then continued playing unconsciously with her fingers.
"OK. Good of you." Beamed the lecturer. "You've taken the right decision. It takes sacrifice to pass my course and besides, you're one hell of a sweet girl, do you know that?"
No reaction.
"How old are you by the way?"
No response.
"Are you deaf?" snarled the lecturer.
"Seventeen sir." She gasped.
"Oh! Sweet seventeen and you're behaving like a baby. Take your trousers and panties off and come over here."
The girl looked up in fright. "What?" She asked frustratedly.
"You heard me." He looked up at the wall clock. "It's almost six and you're still playing nun over there. Do you want me to sleep in office? Take your dresses off at once."
"But-"
"But what?" interrupted the lecturer. "You look so matured and here you are, pretending in a completely outdated manner. Do you want to tell me you never had sex before?"
The girl looked up, lips parted slightly but no word came out. The lecturer stood and cleared a part of his table, then went over to her and held her hand. He pulled her closer, unbuttoned her and in a matter of two minutes, put her to complete unclothedness. Then he sat her on the table and positioned himself in between her soft thighs. He became very restless out of libido. He spat some saliva in his hand and rubbed it over his manhood for lubrication, then he attempted insertion. He didn't make it in and the girl lurched out of the table as if she was stung by a scorpion. He ran after her and dragged her back to position, "You want to run out nude?" He gave her a pencil to bite on and then tried again, and this time with success. He sucked on her breasts in spite of the sweat of agony on her face, tears of pain in her eyes and blood of irreparable damage leaking from her hole. She wanted to graduate with good grades, and such was not given for free in most Nigerian schools.

Somewhere in Florida, a black man in boxers walked along the beach with a white girl in bikini who wouldn't stop to rob on his big fallen belly. They laughed to God-knows-what joke they were cracking as the breezes of the sea showered them with piercing tenderness and peace. Soon, they bumped into another black man walking alone, and they nearly exchanged ill words before they suddenly froze and exploded into greetings.
"Senator Charles, what are you doing here?" The man with the white girl had asked enthusiastically.
"Senator Akerekoro, i can't believe you asked that question. What else could a man be doing here if not to relax?"
"Obviously, that's most sensible. A man deserves to relax after work. You see that Senatorial Sitting we had two days ago in Abuja, i couldn't help but sleep it through, it's so stressful travelling all the way from here to Nigeria for some stupid sitting every time. I missed my daughter's birthday and her mother was all over me, poor woman. Her friends were said to have asked about me too, white kids, how much they love to party."
"Sorry about that, Senator Akere. Actually, i didn't allow my own wife to leave Nigeria, i can't afford to have a black woman tailing me around, and she's all wrinkles and age while i'm still young, you know naw, black butts with stretch marks. That's why i'm always here alone. I live on a boat and i always have girls wheeled over every night for party. And besides anyway, i have many business runnings here; Nigeria is too hot for a reasonable man to live."
"You're right, Senator Charles." Giggled Akerekoro. "Nigeria is too hot for a man to think but i need money to buy a casino in Las Vegas and this Senator business is such a profitable one. If the Party does not endorse my second term, what i'm telling you is a classified information please tell no one, I'll deploy to another Party at once, i can't afford not to return to the Senate. Well, i guess they wouldn't want to deny me anyway, after all I've done for them; motorcycles, fertilizers and boreholes."
"That's a brilliant plan. One has to foresee and prepare in advance, that's what makes a man survive in this business of ours. I learnt some secondary school girls were kidnapped this morning by these dreadful Boko Haram insurgents. Have you heard?"
"Don't even talk about it, i don't want to hear anything about it. How did they allow themselves to be taken away in the first place? Such fools! Nigeria is a goose that lays golden eggs and smart people are all over the poultry, picking the eggs. All those girls are just necessary sacrifices. After all, they're not my children, why must i be bothered? Let them continue; it's Northerners killing Northerners; they're only helping the population control, it's none of my business."
"But have you ever imagined the House of Senate could be targeted sometime?"
"Impossible! What are you saying, Senator Charles? Ah-Ah! Don't we know who sponsor them? Some of them are in the House and we all know them. If they're not on seat in the House for a minute, everyone would be smart enough to suspect that something was going to happen and would run. But as long as they sit with us, they can't possibly blow themselves up. And besides, come here..." He placed his mouth to Charles' ear and after about fifteen seconds the duo laughed out violently.
"Oh! I love politics." Charles beamed.
"Yes, isn't it interesting? How much i love Nigeria for her dramatic expertise. And you know, it's economically enriching too."
"Yes, it is." chuckled Charles.
"Now Charles," Senator Akere got serious, and more quiet, "won't you invite me to one of your boat parties sometime soon? These white chicks seem to know how to Bleep a Senator like hell and we got the money, don't we?"
"Of course we do. And they can Bleep us to death if they can. Oh Senator Akere, you wouldn't believe how much i love white pussies."
They laughed loudly while the bikini girl waited ahead. "Man of my bone." Akere screeched.

Somewhere in Oyo a boy woke up late in the morning and went to the backyard to ride his motorcycle out for commercial purpose as usual. Another friend came around and told him: "I have Tobalase's video confession of how a king had had your friend's father murdered in 2009."
"Professor eBay?" He had asked.
"Yes, Baba Atingisi's murder."
He collected the phone and watched the video, Tobalase, the king's personal aid who went rogue, narrating how the assassination of Baba Atingisi, eBay's father was orchestrated in February 2009. When he was shot at the entrance of his house, he himself with bullet in his stomach ran to the Police Station to report and the Police took him to UCH where after three days of not been touched was injected when he refused to die. They followed him up to the hospital to ensure his death. Police knew who killed him but the Oba is too powerful to be questioned by law, Kabiyesi oooooo!

Now i come in. I am a student who has been on strike for twelve months without an end in sight. I am the most quiet person in my house and the one that sleeps mostly, but at every second, every minute and every moment of my life planning; there are so many people to kill; so many people to teach that what goes around comes around and that majority of Nigerians may be dead but walking, some of us are still alive and not stupid at all to be fooled by anyone. A bomb went off in Abuja in the morning, people got torn into pieces like papers, and in the evening, our most adorable president dances azonto in Kano. People go out and never to home return; rituals. People charge phones and get chased away for their phones to be carted away; thieves. People get kidnapped or bombed on their ways to work; terrorists. Students rot at home and forget their matriculation numbers; strike. Female students get threatened to open their legs or else score "F" in exam; lecturers. A friend once told me, "revolution is not the answer, let's continue praying" and I looked at him with such admiration, doesn't he make a wonderful idiot? If it becomes certain that the world will end tomorrow, I'll make sure i kill some politicians today, they never allowed me to live. I'll kill some lecturers whose names are noted, they deprive us of marrying our wives sexually unbesmirched. I will kill terrorists, they mangled my friends' homes into ruins. I will kill murderous kings who perpetrate evil and silence the voice of justice. Then I'll look up to God and tell him: "End America if you like. End Europe if you wish. End some countries in Asia and Africa if you find it necessary. But please, don't end Nigeria yet. Although we've been existing for long, but unfortunately, we have never lived. But if he still insists, well then, all to heaven go. The only thing we could burn for is our acceptance to being oppressed, our silence to being exploited, and our stupidity with which we were enslaved. And thank God, i am guilty of none.

Prince Moshood 'Tunde Adebayo-Atingisi
LORD eBAYISM SCHOOL OF THOUGHT (LeSCOTH)

Brilliant!

And to think you logged it on " Violent/Disgusting Non-Celebrity Crimes" makes it more so.