Fresh and full of ideas about where they are posted to, corpers, a breed of lively minds, are usually curious of and ready to explore their new environments. This was the situation in which we found ourselves barely six days after our arrival at the station of our primary assignments.

Roko, Rickie and I (later referred to as the Trio R, for my name is Randy), having discovered ourselves at a party organized for the welcome of corpers posted to Roko’s establishment, now decided to explore our new abode this evening.

We had previously agreed at the party that our first port of call would be an exclusive inn close to the town’s conference hall for a cold bottle of beer each. From there, we further schemed; we would walk the streets and have a master view of the whole place.

And so at 5.15 pm we found ourselves sitting round a table at the Sienta Inn. A slim dark young man, who we assumed was one of the free— movement people, wandered his way to us.

‘What would you take, sirs?’ he asked.

Roko surveyed him from hair to toe, felt the young man could have been somebody else if his country leaders had not tumbled the financial table, and then ordered gin and lime. To us, he said, “Boys, I think I have a justifiable right to wine arid dine as I have never done before. After the gin we shall then have isiewu, to be washed down with pepper soup.” He paused while waiting for the order. To be here perfectly at peace of heart, no more blab blah on concepts and theories! Sweet grief, my occipital baldie tutor nearly had my brain apart with calculations in this goddamn thing you call Geophysics.’

Rickie curled his lips and released a soft whistle. ‘Don’t you consider yourself lucky that your tutor only nearly did? I wouldn’t have touched an atom of this drink you now order. But I just have to in order to loosen some of the nuts that mine drove into my head. I wish she could suffer this occipital freak you mentioned.’

‘A she?’ I asked, not ignorant of what iron ladies in top posts are capable of doing.

‘Yea’, he answered. Crafty old layer of class,’

The waiter appeared with the gin and lime. He placed down the tray as if it was fragile. Meticulous of everything he did, he said, ‘Gentlemen, if you consider it meet, you may at your wish and pleasure, have a meal at the VIP section.’

Rickie cocked his ear to clear reception, mild impatience showing in his face. “If you have guance, please bring it here and stop those VI raps. Or did you see me at Abuja or Oshogbo where a million naira per hour was spent on entertainment?”

‘Guance? I didn’t get you right.’

Rickie, in an odd characteristic, nearly flared up. He said, ‘Hell, guance means food. Level 04 slang.’

Laughter, and what a merry time we had. And with a soft tune playing on the disc machine, we checked out of the inn with swaying hips. I reckoned some putterers were staring at us with harmless envy.

‘We shall cover this street first. At the end of it, I suppose, is Olafa Way. We can from there cross to I.T Road. Nice chart’, Roko suggested.
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Boring shit , pls try drawing or painting

spenca:
Boring shit , pls try drawing or painting

Guy u wicked o