tundetoday: Ishi,you made me stay up all nite reading from page one, Only kane and Abel,General's daugther,Prison Break and homeland has previously achieve this feat. Frankly, 'your head dey there'. If you know Nelson Demille,I think you are an upgraded version of him and whenever you are ready to write that book,you've got people who are ready to buy.

I respect ur patience and the fact that you think you are not yet matured to publish. For me,you are 'ripe'(I hope you don't mind my usage of that word) enough. You've got the plots,the suspence,that charm too and of course ,the talent. I'll advice that you begin your book immediately before family live consume your nearest future and deprive us of a classic book.

No vex ooo,can't wait to read your book. Can some magic happen for it to be out before "Homeland" season three?

Thank you tunde, I am humbled that you stayed up reading my creation.

Err, never hoid of 'Homeland'...

Have you ever seen a drowned fish? I don't mean a fish flopping about, gasping for air, on the throes of death. No. I mean a fish that is already drowned. A drowned fish's mouth is open and its eyes are glassy and filmy. That's how a drowned fish looks like.

Staring at the Honourable's contorted face, I was immediately reminded of several drowned fishes I had seen during the course of my short life. Thankfully, his eyes did not have a glassy look. I couldn't guess how his eyes looked like even if I wanted to because they were shut. However, his mouth was open. Wide open, like one trapped in a catacomb and struggling to breathe those last few precious air.

His chest fell and rose very quickly. He looked like was choking.

I stared blankly at this strange spectacle for several seconds before something clicked in my brain and I woke up from the trance-like state I had fallen into. . .

Click. . . SHEEIT!!!!

What in God's name was going on here?! I vaulted over my date's gasping form like a champion athlete, knocked over the beer bottle on the bed side table and landed awkwardly on my buttocks on the rugged floor, on the other side of the bed. Ouch.

In times of distress, us human beings transform into 'emergency gymnasts'.

The breath was knocked out of me. Gasping and wincing simultaneously, I somehow managed to drag myself to my knees and cradling my aching butt tenderly, I crawled to where Honourable lay.

"Sir, what is the matter with you?" I asked, fighting to keep off the panic that was threatening to batter my senses. He didn't respond. Or couldn't respond. I don't know which. I gingerly got to my feet, hitched up my trousers which had ridden down to my hips and leaned down and slapped him gently on the face. His countenance remained unchanged. I slapped him again, harder this time.

Without warning, the big man gave an explosive gasp and started wheezing.

Startled, I jumped back and ran to the dining table area.

A million questions ran through my head and none of them made sense. I didn't try to mull over any of them because all that mattered was this VIP was acting very strangely and I needed to get things back under control. The feeling of power I had felt what seemed like hours ago, but in was in fact less than fifteen minutes ago had all but vanished entirely.

I quickly ran back to the bed, jumped on it and barked into my date's face, "Is this a fuccking joke??" I had regressed into using those four letter words that are very impolite in polite company.

He ignored me and wheezed away.

"If this is some kind of sick joke, just fuccking stop it because it isn't fuccking funny!!!!", screamed I.

Wheeze. Wheeze.

Ooookay, this was no longer a joking matter. Time to cut tail, make like a tree and split. What are the procedures for the Vanishing Act? Grab your handbag, grab your shoes, eliminate all evidence linking you to the crime scene and flee. While fleeing, recite psalm 23 repeatedly and pray you don't get caught.

I was in the process of grabbing handbag when I suddenly remembered another factor.

Mr P.A. McGrouch, His Royal Rudeness.

Arrrrrghhh FUCCK!!!

It's Pyguru again. After hours of hard work

naptu2:

pls visit this thread if you are a Christian. www.nairaland.com/1167238/frosbel-lets-discuss-christianity#13974105 I could do with your insight.

@cuddlemi

I hear that you and your robot have banned ishilove's update
I will sue you guys to the heavens if you don't release it
in fact, I will scatter the entire literature thread if this is not rectified within the next 10 hours
just try me

esere826: @cuddlemi

I hear that you and your robot have banned ishilove's update
I will sue you guys to the heavens if you don't release it
in fact, I will scatter the entire literature thread if this is not rectified within the next 10 hours
just try me

You dis intimate lord , seductive stories makes you fret up and down.

Cool down, I have released it.

Cuddlemii:

You dis intimate lord , seductive stories makes you fret up and down.

Cool down, I have released it.

good girl
good robot

This month update don finish?

ishilove!, ishilove!!, ishilove!!!
how many times did i call u?
this is a new year.
may we not enter 2014 stuck in the stories of 2012

Motivation to finish story
...........................
U need new boyfriends and admirers. If you drag this story, you will only have males like esere826, brokoto and Naptu2 stuck to you
we are not an exciting bunch

Finish this story quickly, and get into another. You'd be amazed about the number of newer more exciting boyfriends that will start following you
Remember new wine is meant for new wine skins

esere826: ishilove!, ishilove!!, ishilove!!!
how many times did i call u?
this is a new year.
may we not enter 2014 stuck in the stories of 2012

Motivation to finish story
...........................
U need new boyfriends and admirers. If you drag this story, you will only have males like esere826, brokoto and Naptu2 stuck to you
we are not an exciting bunch

Finish this story quickly, and get into another. You'd be amazed about the number of newer more exciting boyfriends that will start following you
Remember new wine is meant for new wine skins

You called me ten times.

I was going to finish it but Seun's deranged spam bot vexed my Muse.

I find you and naptu very exciting, in a dull sort of way

Ishilove:
You called me ten times.
I was going to finish it but Seun's deranged spam bot vexed my Muse.

Forgive Seun's robot for it does not know what it is doing
Do not visit the sins of his robot on tons of your admirers

I find you and naptu very exciting, in a dull sort of way

That is the problem. Our dull excitement will only end up sapping your creative energy
be rid of us once and for all
make us a small part of your expanding universe
go girl..... finish it up

Ishilove:
You called me ten times.

I was going to finish it but Seun's deranged spam bot vexed my Muse.

I find you and naptu very exciting, in a dull sort of way

....

brokoto: ....

Brokoto, would like me to be your cougar?

Ishilove:
Brokoto, would like me to be your cougar?

ah! I don die!! Now 1 million nairalanders know that Ishilove is waaaaaaay older than me. So much for me forming old man since. ☹

The door loomed large and forbidding before my eyes. My heart, which had been beating normally before the Honourable's wheeze fest began to triphammer again. Even though the room was chilly, my palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my over-tight and sexy jeans which had ridden down to my hips again.

O Ishi, you are cluster-fuccked, aren't you?

Even if I could beat PA, I was not cold hearted enough to abandon my date in the condition he was in. Beyond the door lay help. . .and nemesis.

I was still clutching my bag which I had grabbed in my hurry to vamoose. I relaxed my hold on the bag and turned back to the bed. To my utmost shock and horror, I realised that the Honourable had gone still and silent. I had noticed the silence but I had been too preoccupied with my musings to register the import of that ghastly silence.

Dear God, was the man dead??

The thought of death galvanised me into action. Faster than a speeding bicycle, I dropped my handbag and sandals and leaped over them in a single bound. And crashed to the ground like a sack of fufu.

I had stumbled over the beer bottle which I had knocked over when I formed super gymnast. Stunned, I lay senseless for about five seconds before I mechanically hauled myself to my feet. I almost stumbled again, no thanks to my trousers which had ridden way past my hips. Cussing myself, NYSC, the devil and everyone else I could think of, I made my dizzy way to the door and fumbled with the lock. At first the lock resisted my scatterbrained attempts, but after a few choice cusses that would make my dear mother blush a bright crimson hue, the lock finally cooperated and the door smoothly opened inward.

As I was about to step out, I paused, one hand on the door knob, my boobs jutting like a javelin past the threshold of the room, the rest of me still inside.
What was I going to tell PA? Would I say-

"Em, eskiz sir, your oga is lying senseless in bed because my magnificent mammary organs has practically crushed the living breath out of him. Please help..."

Or

"Em, eskiz sir, your oga is lying in a dead swoon because. . .well, I can't tell you what happened, but after it happened, he fainted..."

Hell no, THAT can't be right. THAT would give the wrong message. It never occured to me that frolicking with the Honourable on more than one occasion, coming to a hotel with him and staying locked up with him as long as I did had already sent out the wrong message a long time ago. As they say in my home town, if you don't want to smell of shiit, don't play in a manure pit.

What was I going to tell PA?? The answer lay motionless on that big bed. I quickly buttoned my trouser and left the room in a mighty hurry.

******

for the vision, abi na tori shall finish at the appointed time
though it tarries, the end shall surely come to pass

esere826: for the vision, abi na tori shall finish at the appointed time
though it tarries, the end shall surely come to pass

Esere, you can kiss ma flat assss.

Ma cherie, ça fait longs temps! Welcome back sha.
Bring dis chronicles to an end biko. Even Chronicles for Bible get end.

Ma cherie, ça fait longs temps! Welcome back sha.
Bring dis chronicles to an end biko. Even Chronicles for Bible get end naw.

Ishilove:
Esere, you can kiss ma flat assss.

umh...
and pharoah the ruler of egypt had a dream
that the flat donkey swallowed the fattened one eyed bull
he woke up and was deeply troubled by this dream

esere826:

umh...
and pharoah the ruler of egypt had a dream
that the flat donkey swallowed the fattened one eyed bull
he woke up and was deeply troubled by this dream

Esere!!

now u are dragging the story!

sigmundfreud: now u are dragging the story!

Nope. Time factor makes me write short short!

With face set like a flint, I hurried along the corridor, looking neither left nor right. I vividly remember passing a hotel staff who gave me a rather odd look but I ignored her. My mind was fixed on far more important things. Important things like a very important sick man, his personal assistant, and the likely damaging consequences on my good name if perchance 'anything happened' to the said sick man.

The corridor seemed longer than I remembered it. Where on earth was the blasted staircase?? There were doors and adjoining doors, twists and turns that I didn't remember passing through when I came in with my date, endless hallways and passages that brought me back to the same spot. I wish I had asked directions from the one and only staff member I met as I rigmaroled the passages of the uppermost floor of that quaint little hotel. In my fevered state of mind the whole place seemed like a bizarre Alice-in-wonderland maze.

I rounded yet another corner and finally found the staircase. Immensely relieved, I quickly dashed down the staircase, crossed the the short passage into the reception, zoomed past two front desk officers who seemed to have been immobilised by the boredom clearly etched on their visage and burst into the hotel's parking lot. It was already pitch dark outside. I couldn't tell what the time was because I didn't own a wristwatch and I had left my phones behind in Rm 21. The lot was deserted,save for rows of neatly parked cars, but the pickup van was nowhere to be found.

'Jeezus, don't tell me this man has gone away!', I wailed in my heart. Tidal waves of panic threatened to wash over the shores of my tenuously built self-control, but with almost superhuman effort, I held them back at bay as I moved from vehicle to vehicle, searching for Mr Grouch.

Just as I was about ready to tear my hair and start keening, gangster style, somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I whirled round and found myself staring up into the stony face of the the one who I desperately sought.

"What are you looking for?", he growled at me.

I ignored his tone of voice and promptly launched into a stammer fest. When I am upset, I either cuss or stammer, depending on the situation I find myself. This situation was a stammer situation, and stammer I did. With great alacrity did the consonants and stressed syllables mix themselves up in my tongue..

I wasn't making sense, even in my own ears. He listened impatiently as I stammered out the events culminating up to the Honourable's wheezing and subsequent silence, then cut me off mid-stammer.

"You say you were doing what?, " he growled cynically, then pointedly looked at the front of my trousers. I stopped talking and involuntarily looked down. Lo, my belt was unbuckled and fly undone. His meaning was clear. It seemed I had forgotten to zip up, even though I had buttoned up.

Blushing furiously, I zipped up while launching into another stammer fest. I think he was finally able to understand me when I repeated "not breathing well" over and over again.

"Why didn't you tell me since?!" he shouted, and looking very troubled, dashed off into the hotel. I hurried in after him, crossed the reception, breezed past the front desk with the ennui ridden employees who didn't seem to have moved from the positions I had last seen them in, crossed into the passageway leading up to the staircase and just managed to catch a glimpse of his departing back before it disappeared around a corner.

I took the stairs two at a time, feeling every inch like Willy the Whale with legs in high heels . Blast Iya Onifufu!!
Puffing, I followed the retreating back of Mr PA through a door I had not noticed initially on the first floor, bounded up another flight of stairs, opened the door at the top of the stairway and abruptly found myself nose to nose with the door leading into Rm 21.

Aha, I had solved the mystery behind the the Isrealite journey I had passed through on my way down to get PA! It seemed Honourable had his very own secret entry way which the hotel had granted him for his trysts. We had taken it on our way in and I had not noticed. So when I had gone back on my own, I had taken the 'regular' way. That's why it had seemed longer than usual.
Jezus, how paranoid can a man get?!?

I didn't dally by the door. I crossed the threshold of the room into its icy belly and shut the door.

He didn't look up when I entered and was already bent over his boss on the big big bed. I crossed the room and stood at the sidelines. He was gently slapping the motionless figure in the face. After a few fruitless sharp slaps, he firmly gripped the Honourable by the shoulder and turned him on his chest. He then straightened up and headed towards the door.

"What's happening? What is wrong with him?!?", I queried as I hurried after him. I caught him just as he was about to open door. I gripped his shirt sleeve and repeated my question.

Turning away,he promptly yanked his arm away and snapped into my face "he's having an attack and I want to go get his inhaler!!"

Realisation came swiftly, incredulity following closely on its heels. "He's athsmatic?!? ", I asked, totally gobsmacked, but I was talking to empty air because he had vanished.

I turned back and stared incredulously at the motionless man. What tha hell? How could this man be athsmatic?? He looked so healthy, so vibrant, so. . .STRONG. . .

Jesus.

This girl sef. Wasn't it obvious that he was having an asthma attack before? Oya continue...

ishilove love gave the man a heart attack

Rage.

I could feel my spine stiffening, my fingers curling into fists. So this whole thing was an asthma attack? I never seen one so it was rather frightening. That wasn't even the point. The point was blasted man knew his condition and yet he came here to form super stud .

I had to fight the insane urge to jump on the bed, whip out one of my bosoms and bittch-slap him with it. Yeah that's right, just whip it out, wave it over my head and SLAP! 'You old fool, you are athsmatic yet you have been guzzling down ice cold drinks like water.'

SLAP! 'You want to put me in trouble, abi?'

SLAKPATA! 'Why did you have to have an attack and faint when I happen to be locked up with you?? Why?!?'

Slap, pummel, pound!!! Cause collateral damage with the boo\bs he had so wanted to caress.

I was still mentally ranting when the door was flung open and PA rushed in like a whirlwind.

For the first time, he looked panicky.

"I can't find his inhaler in the vehicle!", he exclaimed, eyes bulging.

"WHAT?!", I almost screamed, my brain on the verge of meltdown. The Honourable must have been out cold for like what 15,20 minutes? I have an uncle who died during an attack and the last thing I wanted was a repeat of that ghastly incident. My name would be linked to the death of a politician, I would be a disgrace to my family and the nation at large. The story would go round that the Honourable had 'died on top of' me. My name would go down in infamy. O, the horror!!

"So what do we do now?!", I asked, my self-control beginning to unravel.

"Wait, wait, let me check somewhere!", he said excitedly. He moved round the room, searching for only God knows what. My eyes followed his every move. I wondered if he was searching for a weapon to clobber me on the head with. The thought made me eye the fallen beer bottle nervously.

When he couldn't seem to find what he was searching for, he turned to me and asked, "where is his briefcase?"

I went blank. "His what?", I asked stupidly.

"His briefcase, where is it? He was carrying a briefcase with him. It is likely he kept the inhaler inside so I want to check.", he explained impatiently.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Err, I dunno where it is o," I answered. God, I felt like such a bimbo.

"Are you sure?", he demanded.

"Ehn, sebi you checked and it isn't here," I protested. "Maybe it is in the car."

"It isn't there!", he snapped. God, why was the man such a pain in the asss?, I asked myself for the upteenth time, but I didn't dwell on it because there was a much bigger issue on ground. The issue of a man's life.

I decided to look round for myself while PA pondered on our situation. Something made me decide to look under the bed, and behold, the brown, shiny case was pushed in part way under the bed. It had been covered by the bed spread, which was why PA hadn't seen it during his search.

I quickly brought it out and placed it in the eager hands of Honourable's personal assistant.

He knelt on the floor and as he was about fiddling with the lock, he looked up at me with a puzzled look on his face and asked,"Why is this room so cold?". My eyes widened. Yeah, right! The room was abnormally cold. It has been so since the minute I entered the room with my date, but I has been too busy quarelling with my libido to notice.

"It is probably the cold that brought on the attack.", he observed.

'Yeah right', the Vixen muttered, and sniggered.

"Go and turn off the AC," he instructed, and turned back to the locks.

I immediately hurried to where the air-conditioning system was. The AC was of a certain model that I had never seen before in my entire life. Some knobs and buttons lay side by side at the front. I was confounded, to say the least. I tentatively fiddled with some buttons. The next thing I knew, the volume of machine's hum tripled and it seemed to spit ice-chunks out of its vents. Shiit.

"What are you doing there??!", PA exclaimed behind me.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, mistake,", I apologised, thoroughly flustered. I quickly unpressed whatever it is I had pressed and jabbed all the 'jabbables' in sight, and till date, brethren, I don't know what I eventually pressed in that gismo that turned the machine off.

Science and Technology: The inconveniences of modern day conveniences.

After the miracle with the AC, I hurried back to PA's side. The briefcase was open by now and he was rummaging through it. He heaved a sigh of relief when he brought a blue-coloured apparatus. He rose and moved to where his boss senseless. He knelt beside him, forced the invalid's mouth open and placed the inhaler in it. He waited a beat, then pressed.

No response.

He pressed again. Still no response.

He pressed a third, fourth and fifth time. Nothing.

By this time, I had broken out in cold sweat. . .

Tick tock tock...

I feel like I've somehow lost the beat here & I'm going round in circles...