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Stats: 2,524,999 members, 5,778,596 topics. Date: Sunday, 09 August 2020 at 06:56 AM
|Re: The Itch. by Santi222(m): 1:35pm On Apr 06, 2016|
Sir Royver..... Where art thou, beloved comrade Thou hast to complete this tale, I beseech thee in the name of Apollo and Zeus!!!!
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 11:51pm On Apr 09, 2016|
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 11:56pm On Apr 09, 2016|
You got me there
If you have been following my work, you will notice this little piece of mine is somewhat more violent than my usual. I was trying to do a little writing outside the box i.e outside my normal style. You will notice though that despite my best attempts at mauling this kid, i couldnt really describe the gore to an appreciable extent, at least in my thinking. Or did I?
Thanks for your comment. Most appreciated.
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 11:56pm On Apr 09, 2016|
My babygirl missterious, longest time.
Ah! If I wasn't already hitched....
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 11:59pm On Apr 09, 2016|
@All, I apologise for the long break. So many things came up as usual. I promise you though, the rest of the journey is going to be uninterrupted by God's grace. Please note this story has some scenes of extreme violence.
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 12:04am On Apr 10, 2016|
Three days later and Johnjohnson knew he had a problem. The itching on his armpit had refused to stop. It looked like something just under his skin was twisting and turning, biting and wriggling to get free. And the itching never ever stopped. It was there when he went to sleep at night and there when he woke up in the morning. He took his bath several times and rubbed ointments on it, all to no avail.
Johnjohnson studied his armpit in the reflection of a mirror but, aside from the scratch marks made by his long dirty nails, there was no sore or boil or furuncle or pustule. No single bump to indicate he had been bitten or stung. He pinched the skin between his fingernails at the point where he felt the itching occurred the most and squeezed with all his might until he drew blood. He winced in pain.
Yet the itching persisted.
He was still worrying over his armpit when he received a call.
“Oga, na me Cletus. Our target don ready.”
“Good, I’m coming.” Johnjohnson replied and cut the call. He looked at the time, 7pm. This new target was said to be carrying over five million naira in a Ghana-must-go bag in the trunk of his car. Johnjohnson punched his fist in the air triumphantly; this job was going to make up for the last one he botched. He hurriedly put on some clothes, loaded his gun and concealed a dagger in a special holster in his belt. He looked around to see if he had missed anything, then putting his fingers once again under his armpit, he went out the door.
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|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 12:14am On Apr 10, 2016|
The target was in sight. Johnjohnson and his men watched from a local drinking joint across the road as the man drove into a compound guarded by some security men and their trained dogs. He was indoors for about thirty minutes before emerging with a dirty looking bag which he carelessly flung into the boot of his car. The security men opened the gate and the man drove off in his red Honda CRV.
Johnjohnson and his men went to their vehicle as soon as they saw the man come out of the building. They tailed him immediately, making sure not to draw attention to themselves. The man drove casually enough, stopping at one junction to buy recharge card and at another junction to greet a friend. Finally, the man reached what looked like an old abandoned warehouse. He horned twice, and two men dressed in security uniform walked up to the gate. They conversed with him briefly before letting him in. Johnjohnson and his men watched with keen eyes. One of the security guards asked the other to follow the guest inside while he locked the gate. As they went in, the security guard made a sudden motion with his hand.
That was their cue. Johnjohnson and his team rushed out of hiding and slipped into the compound while the rogue security guard closed the door behind them. Johnjohnson approached the man.
“Oya o, remember my cut is 30%, the money plenty no be small.”
“You be correct guy, Cletus.” Johnjohnson said giving him a quick hug. As he drew away he deftly buried his dagger into the man’s ribcage, through where his heart would be. The man heart shuddered and stopped and he died without a sound.
“Oga…why now?” Jarius exclaimed as Johnjohnson dragged the lifeless body into a corner. “People no go dey do business with us if you dey kill them like this o”
Johnjohnson smirked. “If you no want him share I go collect am for you. This Cletus wey no sabi keep hin mouth shut? Let’s go and stop questioning me up and down.”
Jarius said nothing more and followed his leader into the warehouse entrance.
The other security guard was gisting and laughing with the man and helping him remove the bag from the boot. Johnjohnson and his men waited until the third person who was supposed to check the authenticity of the money came out. A fat and fearful looking foreigner suddenly appeared wearing a singlet and shorts with tattoos covering his entire back and arms. He shook hands with the two men and they all went inside.
“Those are the only men we are expecting to be here tonight, right?” Johnjohnson asked. Jarius nodded and Johnjohnson grinned. “Oya, let’s go.”
Johnjohnson and his men, six in all, suddenly came out of hiding and charged their targets, shouting and brandishing their deadly weapons menacingly. Johnjohnson fired a shot, hitting the security guard in the leg as he tried to run off. The foreigner pulled out a pistol from his belt and fired, hitting one of Johnjohnson’s men in the face and killing him instantly. The other men took cover behind the car, leaving Johnjohnson to approach as he was the only one holding a gun.
Johnjohnson snarled, his eyes gleaming, as he fired again, hitting the foreigner squarely in the chest. But the man wouldn’t go down easily and fired off three rounds, all of which hit Johnjohnson on his stomach and thighs. To the amazement of everyone there Johnjohnson shrugged the bullets off like they were flies and fired another shot into the foreigner’s leg, finally bringing him down. The foreigner moaned and dropped his weapon, clutching his leg in pain. The other man dropped the Ghana-must-go bag and held up his hands in surrender.
Johnjohnson approached the foreigner, laughing maniacally, his eyes gleaming with ferocity, his stubby beard dripping spittle. He stood above the whimpering man and kicked him on the head.
“See this one wan shoot me with gun!” Johnjohnson laughed. “I’m impervious to your weap-“
Suddenly Johnjohnson yelled and grabbed his armpit. He rubbed it vigorously and blew at it, making odd yelping noises like a dog that had been whipped. The foreigner, seeing his chance, made a quick grab for his gun and fired again at close range but the bullets bounced off Johnjohnson harmlessly. Johnjohnson himself took no notice but rather tore off his shirt and continued scratching his armpit. One of his men rushed forward and yanked the gun from him, shooting and killing the foreigner before he could get off another shot.
Everyone stood in silence, watching Johnjohnson as he used the tip of his dagger to scratch his armpit. Jarius came closer and tapped his shoulder.
“Oga wetin, ant bite you?”
Johnjohnson turned around and gave him a resounding slap across the face. Jarius staggered backwards, stunned.
“Stop asking stupid questions and get the money!” Johnjohnson shouted.
Jarius glared at him for a moment, then grabbing the gun, went over to the man with the Ghana-must-go.
“I hail bros.” the man said and quickly bent down to unzip the bag. Without looking up he asked “Make I help una count am bros?”
Jarius smelt urine. The man had literally peed his pants. Jarius pointed the gun at his head.
“Look my face.” He said.
“No o, no thank you sir. I no wan see your face sir. Make I bring the moni out for you? Make I count am? Na five milla dey here sir.”
Jarius contemplated a little, then barked. “Oya lie down!”
“Yes sir, thank your sir” The man said and lay down flat on his face, the soaked part of his brown trousers looking black in the pale light.
Jarius picked up the Ghana-must-go and took it back to the group who were still watching their boss in amazement. Jarius looked to see what antics Johnjohnson was up to now and gasped as he watched johnjohnson viciously stab his armpit with his dagger several times.
“It won’t go in.” He snarled. “E no dey penetrate.”
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|Re: The Itch. by Ice4jez(m): 12:26am On Apr 10, 2016|
U ve my respect sir
|Re: The Itch. by RiloKiley: 12:36am On Apr 10, 2016|
As in, wow.
|Re: The Itch. by missterious(f): 12:42am On Apr 10, 2016|
Lol. I don't mind being your side chick. But the only thing is you'll be writing for me everyday.
Just started reading this story. I missed you sha.
|Re: The Itch. by Izyyblaze(f): 7:09am On Apr 10, 2016|
Okay,this is me officially registering my presence here. Weldone doctor Royver,hope to be seeing more of you (your updates) here.
|Re: The Itch. by Mutaino7(m): 1:12pm On Apr 10, 2016|
|Re: The Itch. by Nmeri17: 6:46pm On Apr 10, 2016|
choi! Oga Roy can write for Africa
|Re: The Itch. by Adasun(m): 9:25pm On Apr 10, 2016|
na one thing abt odechi be dat,even injection u no go fit take
|Re: The Itch. by Specialbaby(f): 10:15pm On Apr 10, 2016|
Royver special missed you
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 10:30pm On Apr 10, 2016|
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 10:31pm On Apr 10, 2016|
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 10:31pm On Apr 10, 2016|
Izyyblaze:Thanks a lot. I'll do my best not to let you down.
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 10:32pm On Apr 10, 2016|
Mutaino7:Thanks. Happy new year
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 10:33pm On Apr 10, 2016|
If only Africa will nominate me
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 10:37pm On Apr 10, 2016|
Adasun:Am telling you my brother. I once had a patient like dat who needed to do some stuff before we could use needle on him...but thats another story...
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 10:38pm On Apr 10, 2016|
Specialbaby:Thanks dearie. Have a seat.
|Re: The Itch. by akejujoe(f): 10:47pm On Apr 10, 2016|
Hmm oga Royver, this type of itch is serious o.well done
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 10:55pm On Apr 10, 2016|
An itch you can’t scratch is a terrible thing. It was all that occupied Johnjohnson’s mind, to relieve that itching sensation. But no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t satisfactorily scratch the spot. Back at their hideaway, his men watched in fascination as he tried all sorts of things to relieve himself; stabbing, rubbing, biting, cutting, pinching and even going to the extent of getting one of his men to buy acid which he promptly poured on the site. It slid off his skin harmlessly.
“Oga, be like say you go go remove the jazz first so you go fit scratch this thing o.” One of the men suggested. The others nodded in agreement, some trying desperately to hide secret grins. Johnjohnson looked wretched and forlorn, pacing up and down the room in frustration; his hand always in his armpit. He paused for a moment, took a knife and muttering some words, stuck the knife to the ground and then stabbed the itch with it. Still nothing.
“Curse that stupid witch!” Johnjohnson spat. “I hope she rots in hell. I wish I had burnt her house and stupid family down that night. Stupid woman, cause of all my problems…”
“Maybe if you go to her grave and beg her, the scratching go stop.” Another man suggested. The others looked at him like he was mad to have uttered those words and quickly stepped away from him just before Johnjohnson lunged.
“Repeat what you just said! You want me to beg my sister?!” he yelled as he grabbed the man’s throat.
“No sir! No sir!” the man replied, aghast.
“Over my dead body! I would rather burn her corpse instead!” he shouted, throwing the man to the floor. The man fell and quickly scampered to safety. “If she’s the cause of this I will make her suffer even in death!”
He went back to scratching the itch and the other men heaved a sigh of relief.
“Where did they bury her? Kunle, oya go and find out and report to me! That bitch aint seen nothing yet!”
“Yes sir!” Kunle replied and left the room immediately. Johnjohnson watched him through the room window as he entered his bike and left. He turned back to the others who were watching him intently and cautiously, like he might go mad at any minute.
“What is wrong with you people, why are you looking at me?!” he shouted. They said nothing and looked away immediately, all except Jarius who leaned against the wall and who, although still looking at him, said nothing.
Johnjohnson grinned and shook his head. “Oya talk, let me hear your views”
“Ah, no o. I don’t want to receive slap again o.” Jarius remarked.
“If you no talk now I go dash you one! Talk jo!” Johnjohnson retorted.
Jarius sighed and straighted up.
“I support say make you go meet the baba wey do this jazz for you, make he comot am make you scratch the thing, make we rest.”
Johnjohnson walked over and knocked him hard on the head.
“Wha- why?” Jarius demanded angrily as he rubbed his throbbing skull.
“Na good advice but you for no add the ‘make we rest’ part.” Johnjohnson grabbed his armpit thoughtfully. “Ok, I will do it but first I’m going to scatter that b1tch’es grave.
“I don’t think that’s a smar…em…good move.” Jarius replied. “Leave the dead alone.”
But he already knew from the look of his boss’ face that he might as well be talking to a brick wall.
A few hours later and kunle was yet to return and Johnjohnson grew more irritable. He resorted to grabbing the skin around his armpit and squeezing hard while pacing the room. He looked more unkempt than ever, his beard carrying grime and dust from the day before. Jarius stole knowing glances with the rest of the crew. Johnjohnson was becoming more unstable and dangerously unpredictable. He had always been a menace but since the incident with his sister he had become much worse. The men looked at each other and an unspoken agreement was made. They would ditch this man before he doomed them all.
The sound of a motorcycle revving in the distance broke Johnjohnson away from his pacing reverie. He rushed to the window and watched Kunle’s bike speed into the compound. Kunle was sweating all over and almost fell off his bike as he rushed into the room to bear the news.
The others turned to look at him. Johnjohnson, who had been scratching the armpit with a nail, walked up to him impatiently.
“Oga…oga…” he panted
“What? Where was she buried? Talk my friend!”
Oga, the girl no die o!”
|Re: The Itch. by Nobody: 11:02pm On Apr 10, 2016|
|Re: The Itch. by JeffreyJamez(m): 11:23pm On Apr 10, 2016|
|Re: The Itch. by Specialbaby(f): 7:38am On Apr 11, 2016|
Royver royver royverrrrrrrrrrrr!
How many times did i call you?come and update please,the tension is killing.,
|Re: The Itch. by Izyyblaze(f): 9:48am On Apr 11, 2016|
Royver:You're welcome dear,and thanks too for sharing this wonderful story of your's with us.
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 9:33pm On Apr 11, 2016|
|Re: The Itch. by JeffreyJamez(m): 9:42pm On Apr 11, 2016|
*drops from tree*
|Re: The Itch. by Royver(m): 9:46pm On Apr 11, 2016|
JeffreyJamez:You don ripe
|Re: The Itch. by JeffreyJamez(m): 9:47pm On Apr 11, 2016|
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