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It Pays To Be Honest(a Short Story) - Literature - Nairaland

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It Pays To Be Honest(a Short Story) by SexyMoney(m): 12:24am On May 19, 2016
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Do not copy without giving honour to whom honour is due. If I catch you, your name will be "Sorry".

Where will I start from?
How did I get here?

I have been asking myself the same foolish questions repeatedly knowing that I am the cause of my problem because of my dishonesty. I will be facing a long time in jail. I am currently writing on the floor of my cell which will have to serve as a home to me for a long time coming. I have to get this story out to serve as a lesson to any person bent on treading the wrong path.

Look at me rambling. You must be wondering; who is this "intelligent psycho"? I am Magnus by name; Magnus Oforola, the son of chief and Mrs. Asidibe Oforola of Okporoko L.G.A of Okon state. My parents are well to do and always made sure I and my siblings never lacked anything. Did I mention that I have two siblings and they are girls? They are my seniors by four(4) and two(2) years respectively. Well, now you know.
Anyway, my parents were also strict notwithstanding that I am the only son. They tried to bring me up to follow the right path. All was good and I kept taking the first position in my class until I entered SS1; from there my downfall began. I met two notorious boys named Chisa and Fadani and it wasn't long before I joined them in being "rugged" despite advise from my childhood friend who also doubles as my best friend. My best friend Chike( that is his name) tried his best to persuade me to leave the path of destruction and tread the path of light but I felt I was too high above the law to be caught. I and my new found bad friends were among those who tried to soil the name of the school by the series of bad, unspeakable things we did, that is until we were rusticated from school much to the chagrin of my parents.

There is a saying that goes thus: "everyday for the thief and one day for the owner of the house". January 12th 2016 was when my proverbial cup got full.
It happened that I and Chike were waiting at the bus stop for one of those BRT buses, we saw someone's brief case on the bench in the bus stop shade. Being a greedy fellow I quickly picked it up, forced it open and in it we discovered wads of well arranged foreign currencies. I smiled thanking the heavens for letting me stumble upon such a jackpot. I started envisioning myself driving the most expensive cars, throwing the biggest parties and actually using some of the money as toilet paper( yes I am that crazy). Chike thought otherwise. He advised me to go and report to the nearest police station but my eyes were already bulging and steaming over because of greed. I flatly rejected that advice. I wish I had listened.

As if everything was working in my favour, a BRT bus pulled to a stop in front of us and we boarded it; Chike insisted that we report to the police when we get down at our destination bus stop and for the first time I threatened my best friend with death should he dare report to the police. That seemed to do the trick as he fell silent afterwards.

The BRT pulled away from the curb and we began our journey. As we were close to our destination, the unexpected happened; three police hilux vans intercepted our bus effectively blocking free movement of the bus. I started sweating profusely and fidgeting though I tried to look normal externally. The policemen climbed aboard our bus and one of them was carrying a device emitting short beeps at intervals. They apologized to everyone in the bus for disrupting our journey but that it was a case of national security. With that said, the policeman with the device started moving down the aisle gradually darting the device left and right. He looked up, saw me looking uncomfortable and rushed straight to me holding the device like a sword towards me. As he got closer to me, the device began to beep faster and louder; apparently the briefcase had a tracker in it and I didn't notice. I never knew Nigeria had that type of technology.
I stood up with fear and only then did I realise that I had let go of one or two drops of hot urine. I knew the game was up and lying would not do anything to salvage the situation. I just stood there dumbfounded. All the policemen in a typical Naija style rushed to where I was standing, shouting at the top of their voices. One from among them hit me with his baton before I was hand cuffed and led to their van. My friend Chike had this "I told you so" look but it was already too late for me.

So here I am awaiting trial in my cramped cell which I share with eight sour faced inmates, numerous rodents and cockroaches and one or two wall geckoes.
In a typical Naija fashion, I may still be awaiting trial for the next five(5) or six(6) years before I can see the four walls of a courtroom that is if it will even work out like that.

What brought me here? Dishonesty!!!
What could have saved me? Honesty!!!

I will have to drop my open here because the "kind" policeman who gave me the pen and paper on which I am pouring my heart out on is indicating that my time is up. So as I drop my pen at this point, I will go back to conversing with the rodents and pests in my cell. I tried to make my story as short as possible so as not to bore you but I hope you got the message being passed across, on the perils of dishonesty. I have surely learnt the hard way that truly honesty is the best policy.

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