“Daddy Goodnews is a prodigy of a perfect gentle man...” my friends would always snap whenever that name came up in our conversations. In fact any negative comment about the credibility of his personality was regarded as a faux pas. My friends would sometimes threaten to beat me up if i continued to berate his persona...they would go to the extent of not talking to me for a period of time. Daddy Goodnews was sometimes compared to the persona of Rev. King, they said the anoint in him was too overwhelming that sometimes he needed to dip his head into a cold water so he wouldn’t be too aggressive when he exorcised his patients. “Can you believe he fasted for hundred days and hundred nights; who does that if not a great man of God!” My friend Ogene would yell with his hands gesticulating as though he were a choir master. My friends couldn’t just accept the fact that Daddy goodnews was in any way with sin; they believed that he could never err; that he was immortal to sin, and there was no way he would fall to the temptations that glared at him while he lectured in school. They even told me a story of how a Final year student had come to his office bearing her midriff only for her to be wiped by the anointing of the Holy Spirit...they told me how they could hear from his office window the clatter and natters of the demon begging and beseeching brother goodnews’ forgiveness for their daring test of his spiritual patience. Most times when they prayed they wore in their expression the masking of brother Goodnews: “korima korisha ramaska baska taka lama.” But these friends i knew; they were the craziest guys i had ever come in contact with. They attended every party in the nooks and crannies of school. You don’t organise a birthday party without inviting them and expect to have the rocking your birthday requires...they were simply amazing-crazy; yes! That is the word. Yet, I on the other hand who bottles himself in the coffers of his room most of the times singing sweet nightly prayers with my Carolina was the sinner because i couldn’t simply join them in their episodic and theatrical display of the ‘found’.
It was one morning, the day after my dream girl friend Carolina jilted me for not having money to take her out. I had pleaded with her to wait for one more week when my aunty would have sent me my school fees so we would flex* with it together, but she blatantly refused and accused me of being a broke and terrible Angwan lamgbu boyfriend who should never date a high class Akwanga girl like her. I had gone home lamenting to my friends how i had spent my 100 level and 200 level school fees with her and still be jilted by her because i was just one week behind schedule. My friends confessed in their like manner that i must be under a spell from my village to have spent so much for my heartthrob and still get the lightening and thunders of the heart palpitating and caressing through my focal core. They instructed me that i must see Daddy Goodnews if i truly wanted to see my situation have a turn for good. I obliged to their suggestion even though i didn’t buy the idea. My friends, Tayo and Ogene held me to the hand as they led me to Daddy Goodnews’ office for spiritual exorcism. They feared that I would change my mind if the spell trickles through me more aggressively. So they strapped their hands to my wrist as they led me to the great spiritual spiritualist for deliverance.
As we got to the vicinity of his office, the sense and smell of his office was feministic. In fact i would argue that he was a feminist and a descendant of feminism. Feminine faces of different sizes and species coloured like a roll in front of his office door waiting to receive their blessings in turn. “Today is a special day for the women folk in the world, because Daddy has chosen today as the day to cast out only feminine demons who perambulate and rigmarole around the world...ahhh! ouuchhh! Sweet-gracious...no demon shall leave here today; daddy must cast them out by any means possible ” Tayo yelled in his usual soliloquising manner, clipping his both hands together and swaying his head as though he were a celestian kangaroo. I stood in my position as i supervised female after female limp and joggle out of his office. Some developed broken waist, others with broken thighs, some walked out with their two legs spread wide as though he had asked them to walk 'at easy' as their penance because their sin was too grievous. I was bolted to another continent when i saw the love of my life; the girl that made my heart joggle as if it had a football in it slide into the office of the evangelical feminist. I was irked, for i feared that their prayers would be without the clipping of lips and touching of the body. I couldn’t just see a charlatan and commander of demons rip where he never sowed. In fact it was outrageously abominable to see another man with the girl I had invested my university school fees on. “ohh! This is impossible!” i blotted aloud. “What is impossible?” Ogene asked. “The Devil...i mean he has been tormenting me to sell my right hand so i could flex* with my girl friend....horima shama raskanda...” everybody stared at me as i began the preamble to my conjuration of my conundrum. I raced to a direction where i saw a weighty rod, picked it up and made for the door of Daddy Goodnews’ office. As i approached his door, all the women that assembled in front of his office door waiting for their turn to receive the whip of the great master exorcist and his goblet to declare them clean again immediately dispersed in an alacrity that was worthy of commendation. My friends Ogene and Tayo on the other hand stood at their position shouting "he don mad ohhh...catch am, he don made ohhhh!" Doing nothing in particular to stop me from my spiritual madness. As I got to his door, I hit it hard for the very first time...eureka! I found them. I had never seen any ministration so tensed and bleeding of passion like I saw that day. For the very first time in my life i saw a ministration where two people needed to let go their cloths before the spirit would be effective. I saw Daddy Goodnews riding the love of my life like a Volkswagen without an engine as perspiration parted from his crude skin with great ease. “I talk am, this man na fake man of God, i tell my sister but she no hear...God don catch am today...kill them! Knack them!” These where the many lamentations that shuddered through my ears as i released the rod on my hand to decapitate and disseminate them both. “John, John, please hold me am cold” my girlfriend Carolina called as she curled her both hands through my neck. “ohhhhhhh...i almost killed him in my dream.” “Killed who?” she enquired. “That your pastor that keeps telling you not to visit me at night...i just hate him!”

Commendable writing skill

Thank you sire.