Greetings, lovers of literature. I'm a newbie who is not exactly new a 'bie'. I've been following stories on this section for a while now, passively at times, actively at other times. And I've come across really good writers whose works made my braincells warm. This is my first attempt at writing a story here, and given that I'm a not very good writer, whose dexterity in the art of writing is embarassing at worst, and amateurish at best, I would like to inform you that this is an experiment. This is not to bring down your expectations but to come out as sincere as possible.

And even though I plan to commit to it with Catholic devotion, I can't really forsee the frequency and pattern of the updates, because I do not have a plot yet. I'm a prisoner of the imagination and a convict of unconventionality who loves to make things up as I go along, letting the unconscious take the strain. This is not because planning things in advance is not part of my make - actually, it's one of my specialties and foremost obsessions - rather, it is what I resort to when the intellectual resources for making any meaningful plan are lacking. I do not say this to offend your sensitivities, but, once again, to tell you the truth. That's making the far-fetched assumption that I'll be interesting enough to be deserving of any audience at all.

So, welcome to my thread whose future is less certain than mine.

I am Tozara. And the work I'm about to create for your consumption is titled THE CRUST: The Apex of Crudity.

Stay tuned.

Banned?
#following

MhisTahrah:
Banned?
#following

Not banned yet.

Thanks dear. At least, I have an audience to look forward to see around. I'll start with the story tomorrow.

How've you been?

Tollzara:
Not banned yet.

Thanks dear. At least, I have an audience to look forward to see around. I'll start with the story tomorrow.

How've you been?

I can't wait. It's high time you put your writing prowess to 'good use'.I think I prefer this Zara.

Fine and perfect, how about you?

MhisTahrah:
I can't wait. It's high time you put your writing prowess to 'good use'.I think I prefer this Zara.

Fine and perfect, how about you?

Writing prowess? It's an honour to be seen as a mature bird when one is yet to hatch out of the egg. It's a prayer I'll gladly say Amen to. Thanks dear. I see myself getting there.

Oh, this Zara? I think each of my moniker has his own moods and temperament. But that's not to say there are no insane qualities they have in common.

I'm perfectly fine too.

THE CRUST: THE APEX OF CRUDITY

By

Tozara Ayomi

Copyright © Tozara Ayomi 2018

The right of Tozara Ayomi to be identified as the author of this
work has been asserted in accordance with sections 1, 2 and 3 of the Copyright Act of the Laws of the Federation of Nigeria 1990.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.


Prologue

Each morning, his cheeks lose more fluid and their tissues shrink the more, making further mockery of his cherished memories as a billionaire, which has now become a secret of his past that no evidence in his present can prove. He remembers those times he would sit in his office chair in his customary majestic pose, smiling as he sealed secret files whose content he trusted would change his life forever. Then on Friday's, a gold Rolls Royce would pull over at the gate of his mansion, and he would immediately cancel all his appointments for the day, if he had any at all, so he could have a meeting with the old man who was always wearing a black hat in a way reminiscent of the Devil mummy warned him about as a kid, who had come yet again to make him an offer he couldn't refuse, an invitation he couldn't decline.

Jayeola Olowoporoku had been to worlds he once never knew existed, worlds that were situated on earth but didn't exist in it. He had met men who moved in reified circles. They had the public masks of non-entities existing on the periphery of life, but in their shadows, the great men of everyday life, the stars of the apparent world, the movers and shakers of society, stand stagnant as all hopeless waters. Jayeola had not only craved belonging to the association of the faceless who had it all, dissolving the chasm separating past and future, but also wanted all the lengths and breadths of its glory for his personal gratification and consumption.

He drew this ambition too close to his heart, it transformed from an ecstatic hug of a romantic dream to a kiss... of death that shattered arteries and ruptured veins.

Yipee!!! I'm here

Interesting prologue...

I think i've got something new to look forward to over here.

I'm not entirely sure... But my inner self seems captivated already, let's see if it can convince my pessimistic outer being.

Let's go OP

1
The New Attraction

In an hour's time, the ever punctual kings of the street, as they are fancifully called, would arrive and he'd have the chance to make another attempt at selling his snake-oil. He had better do well to decide on which lie to tell this time, which brand of half-truth to offer, as there is probably not going to be another chance like this. The ever punctuals really are the punctual ones, aren't they? This is the fourth appointment, after three disappointments. So much for punctuality. To think that there was a time he had the greatest job on earth. Look at him now, another piece of garbage, who has to eat others' stool to get by in life. Taking more filth and becoming more of a garbage to deal with his depression is the only show in his life now. At 32, he hasn't lost hope. He doesn't know if there is the slightest sliver of light at the end of the tunnel. But he doesn't even need to walk towards it. How about blowing up the tunnel and have light from the skies above shine on him instead? Life doesn't have to be this hard. He's not yet fed up with life, and he's not going to give up just yet.

"Wow. Jay, look at that. The Lamborghini Centenario Roadster! Dude! V12 engine with 566kW delivery. Acceleration from 0 up to 100km/h in just 2.9 seconds, with a top speed over 350km/h. That's some crazy machine, bruh. I never thought of sighting it on the streets of Lagos, of all places! And look at that dude with unkempt beard standing next to it. He couldn't be the owner, I believe?"

Jay isn't paying attention to Femi. Why on earth would those guys choose an amusement park as a rendezvous point? An amusement park of all places? For business like that! And not just any amusement park, but Dreamworld Africana. Apart from bringing back the embarrassing memories of being disgraced right at this very place by his then girlfriend, Tomilola, how could those guys be so fücking cheap and classless? Whatever happened to places like Hi-impact Amusement Park and Resort? So much for being kings of the street. It's not as if even that would have made sense anyway. There is no logic in choosing an amusement park for such purposes. He wonders what they're up to. And, heck, imagine all those married women acting like babies in adult bodies staring at him like he was their husband who went missing. He's supposed to be recovering from a disease that had relegated his once actualized cute looks to the background of mere potentiality. So, what could be attracting them so intensely, he wonders? Still yet to utter a word to Femi, who seems too excited than expected for seeing a Lamborghini... perhaps for the first time? He sights an ice-scream vendor and decides to have some smeared on his tongue to distract himself from his disgust. He gets off his seat, Femi following suit. Then he bumps into a fair lady of average height, blue paints on her lips, tinted hair. Given her looks, he finds it surprising that she didn't fix eyelashes. What an inconsistent bįtch, he thinks to himself.

"You came in here in such faded shirt? How many buttons do you have left? You could have concealed the eyesore with some borrowed suit. At least, there wouldn't be much evidence of destitution to see." She says to Jay, in forced British accent. Femi doesn't know what to make of his friend's expressionless face. Who is this girl? Just when Jay was to get some ice-cream to melt with his saliva, she had stolen the moment and melted the most solid elements of his ego and soul, or so he thinks.

Jay forces a smile. Approaching him so directly with a tone bordering on familiarity, she probably has a connection with his purpose for being here. A scuffle with her right here, and he might have blown away his chance, an opportunity that seems to be his last.

"My fashion sense is very conservative and simple." He says with the brightness of his smile fast spreading across his face, as if trying to convince himself.

"Life itself has put you in a conservative and simple box. Even though it is fate, which is quite unfortunate, you need to comfort yourself that it is a choice you made." She chuckles.

Jay turns away, trying to hide his disgust, anger and agony. Her taunt gets to him. The ice-cream vendor is still right in sight. He drags himself in his direction. Her jests and taunts have made him heavier. He could hear Femi coming behind him, the sound of his even heavier shoes engulfing the laughter of mockery of the mischievous witch. He must have borrowed that from the bloke next door. Life had not only fücked him from all orifice, but also decided to put a final seal on his humiliation by gifting him a fellow loser as a friend. What a crazy, sad world. He approaches the vendor. Finally, an ice-cream for him, and one for Femi too, of course. It is an amusement park. There is no reason to be shy.

"So man, you were talking about a Lamborghini and some poverty-stricken dude."

"Haha. Poverty-stricken? You sure jest, don't you? That expression doesn't sound good in your mouth. It's quite inappropriate that it is you saying it. It gets even funnier, when one considers the brief episode from five minutes ago." Femi laughs without any intent of hiding his message and meaning.

"Indeed." He licks his ice-cream, seemingly unperturbed.

"So, yeah. Lamborghini Centenario Roadster."

"What a name."

"It's super fast. Sexy and curvy. Poetic contours."

"You seem to find it too personally appealing to be true. Man, you ain't getting that in your dreams. Cut it out, already." An attempt at a clap back. But.....

"Hey, jackass, dude is staring at you." ...Not working.

What the actual fück? With the look on his face, and his spiky beards pointing in all directions, he had obviously come here as a sexual predator in search of a new prey. If he hasn't come for the girls, then he has come to kidnap and rape him. But he doesn't look gay. Even if he happens to be one, Femi would be a more suitable choice.

"Dumbass. Not me. Look carefully. You have his attention."

"Look here, I'm serious now. You think he also has business with you? Or maybe he's aware of your reason for being here. Think about it, that dude doesn't look like someone to come to an amusement park. And with a Lamborghini like that, he must be into some real shįt you don't want to know about. If he's with those guys governing the streets of Lagos, then man, there's much to think about if he's got his eyes on you. You might be a target, in which case you're already dead meat." He struggles to hold the laughter. "Or he's got some business for you. Your smarts might be about to get you some big shįt, bruh". He lets it out and loses himself in the delight of getting Jay worked up and confused.

"Something big." Jay's eyes lighten up. That might be for real. What if the Lamborghini is actually his? What if he had brought it for him? Are there documents he would have to sign? New deals to seal? That bįtch from earlier would have to run her mouth again, but this time under his feet, right under his sheets. Fame. Money. Glory. Girls. Fast cars. Fast food. Power. He hasn't lost hope. He isn't fed up with life. Not yet. Not quite yet. He hasn't given it up just yet. His glory days might just be about to come back to him. "Femo, don't you find it weird? He keeps staring, even as we make it apparent that we have noticed him. Creepy."

Their ice-creams have melted. They dispose of what is left into a nearby trash bin as they head back to their table.

"Hey, Jay. He's coming this way." Femi swallows hard. "I should excuse you two. I'll be waiting right behind the pillar close to the lawn".

"You mad man. We came here together. When it was time to taste the ice-creams, your fingers didn't shiver as they held firmly onto it. Don't dare run away now in the face of uncertainty, bro. Let's see what he's got for us."

As the young man approaches the duo, his figure becomes clearer. Exquisite cheek bones. A John Cena-like posture and physique, with nose like Anthony Joshua's. He looks less scary when closer than he does from a distance, and the frown he seems to have been wearing the whole time disappears into an undiscernable expression. His beards weren't unkempt. It's now apparent that he had given them some special treatment. He has a fairly hairy dark skin. With each step he takes, they become less certain of their expectations. From his shirt, to his pants, down to his boots, he is putting on Nike labels.

He is a gorgeous hunk, and seems to have caught the less than momentary attention of much of the ladies. It becomes clear to Jay that the women from earlier had been staring at the young man almost now standing before him, not his rather clumsy and unappealing self. Now, it all makes sense.

Hunky approaches Jay, pretending not to notice Femi's presence. He dips his hand into the back pocket of his trousers, and brings out a purple envelope, handing it to Jay.

"What is this?" A reluctant Jay inquires with palpable unease.

"They're not coming."

"What? I thought..."

"No. They're not slamming the door on your face just yet. Their asking you to come here was for us to meet. It was never about a meeting with them."

"So that's how it is. What's the envelope for?"

"You'll find out yourself."

"Is that all?" Not satisfied, Jay wants something big. Something inspiring. Convincing. Something certain. He wants no mystery. Why must these guys always disappoint him?

"Obviously not." Hunky knows what Jay wants to hear. But whether he's willing to tell him or not is a quite different matter. "My name is Abass. I pick up goods at Surulere by 5 PM. I reside at Lekki. That's as far as I'll be saying for now. You may be needing that info in few days time. I'll take my leave."

Jay watches as Abass creates distance between them, as he returns to his car, not uttering a single word. Unsatisfied and disappointed as ever. This isn't what he expected.

"Man. That envelope. Won't you try to find out its content first?"

"I wonder of what value it would be to me."

"I wonder. You can find out. Quite easy, isn't it? It's right there in your hand."

As Jay unseals the envelope, he notices the witch from earlier staring from a distance, smiling at him. He finally opens it, and the content is not only surprising, but depressingly disappointing. Could anything be more absurd?

"What is this nonsense?" Femi snatches the envelope to read it a second time, hoping to make sense of it. He is hit again by the inscrutability of the incomprehensible world of Friedrich Nietzsche, the German philosopher who had gone mad before he became successful. A man who became a celebrity only after becoming a vegetable. Is this a parable of some sort? A coded message to Jay? That he will have to forgo something precious, to regain his fame? To play the game of humiliation, for elevation to come his way? What could this gibberish mean?

"For believe me: the secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is---to live dangerously! Build your cities on the slopes of Vesuvius! Send your ships into the uncharted seas! Live at war with your peers and yourselves! Be robbers and conquerors as long as you cannot be rulers and possessors, you seekers of knowledge! Soon the age will be past when you could be content to live hidden in forests like shy deer. At long last the search for knowledge will reach out of its due; it will want to rule and possess, and you with it!"

Jay, almost tearful, clenches his fist and grits his teeth. "And what am I supposed to do with this? What kind of prank did he just pull? "

The girl from earlier is still staring from a distance, smiling. She winks at Jay, balloons in hand. She then turns away, dancing and prancing as she jumps along, singing 50 Cent's Amusement Park.

Hmmm.... Interestingly captivating with a little bit of mystery.


It's too early to start appraising you.
Just bring it on for now.

zinnyzee:
Hmmm.... Interestingly captivating with a little bit of mystery.


It's too early to start appraising you.
Just bring it on for now.

Thanks.

It would suck to be writing away without feedbacks or interested audience.

One chapter per day. How do you see it?

Tollzara:
Thanks.

It would suck to be writing away without feedbacks or interested audience.

One chapter per day. How do you see it?

I'm a fast reader, you see. And i assimilate things within minutes of reading, but everyone isn't like that.

One chapter per day seems real good for everyone, plus you're a damn good writer so it'd gives us enough time to process the thoughts you're passing across to us.


But i'd give anything to have this in a pdf version and sit in a corner of my room reading it till the texts get blurry

zinnyzee:
I'm a fast reader, you see. And i assimilate things within minutes of reading, but everyone isn't like that.

One chapter per day seems real good for everyone, plus you're a damn good writer so it'd gives us enough time to process the thoughts you're passing across to us.


But i'd give anything to have this in a pdf version and sit in a corner of my room reading it till the texts get blurry

Wow. You're so kind. Thanks a lot. Your feedback is quite encouraging.

One chapter per day, it is then.

Tollzara:
Wow. You're so kind. Thanks a lot. Your feedback is quite encouraging.

One chapter per day, it is then.

You're very welcome.

Interesting.. bring it on

GLAD TO JOIN YOU GUYS.
LOOKING FORWARD TO AN EXCITING AND MINDBLOWING PIECE.

ONE CHAPTER PER DAY...? YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME.
NO DISRESPECT BRO, BUT I DOUBT THAT POSSIBILITY.

Solly1:
ONE CHAPTER PER DAY...? YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME.

NO DISRESPECT BRO, BUT I DOUBT THAT POSSIBILITY.

Hmmm. Action speaks louder than words, bro.

There's power outage at the moment, and my current battery lifespan won't be sufficient for typing the next chapter. My phone is currently surviving on the dying breaths of my PC. When power is restored, expect to get the update.

OKAY THEN, I'LL DISPUTE NO MORE.


THERE ARE JUST A HANDFUL OF PEOPLE (ON NL) WHO KEEP TO THEIR WORDS, I'LL HOLD YOU TO YOURS.

LET'S SEE IF YOU'RE AS NOBLE AS YOU (SOUND) SEEM.

#GOODLUCK

I'm here and I been waiting... Don't keep me waiting for too long.

Solly1:
OKAY THEN, I'LL DISPUTE NO MORE.


THERE ARE JUST A HANDFUL OF PEOPLE (ON NL) WHO KEEP TO THEIR WORDS, I'LL HOLD YOU TO YOURS.

LET'S SEE IF YOU'RE AS NOBLE AS YOU (SOUND) SEEM.

#GOODLUCK

Wow. That's some moral challenge. You can count on what I said though. On that, I cross my heart ♥ and hope to die.

But, hey, action speaks louder than words. So, just observe as I prove myself. I wouldn't say what I wouldn't do. That would put me in the same camp as Nigerian politicians.

zinnyzee:
I'm here and I been waiting... Don't keep me waiting for too long.

Sorry for the delay, dear. IBEDC is the company of disappointment that wants to push me into the same pit of disappointing people.

I just started charging my phone. A few minutes to have it sufficiently powered so that I wouldn't need to worry about my phone dying while I'm typing, in case power goes out again soon?

Tollzara:
Sorry for the delay, dear. IBEDC is the company of the disappointment that wants to push me into the same pit of disappointing people.

I just started charging my phone. A few minutes to have it sufficiently powered so that I wouldn't need to worry about my phone dying while I was typing, in case power goes out again soon?

Apology accepted.

We're waiting on them then!

2
Reopening the Portal

Jay wakes up at the extreme end of the bed, wondering where he is exactly. He has almost fallen off, more confused and disoriented than he was the day prior. A man who has lost his way in the world, and has also gone missing in his dreams. The bed has quite the limited width, and you don't need a metre rule to determine its length. A mere glance would give you a more than accurate result. Hardly comfortable enough for two. Jay is already lost in his imaginations, his depressed spirit about to start running its mouth again, lamenting the destitution of its owner, but the rise in the pitch of Femi's snore draws him back up into reality from the well of depression and moodiness. The fool is still fast asleep - offensively asleep. He never wakes up first. In fact, he's never the first at anything. But much the same could be said for Jay himself, not at everything, of course, but at pretty much everything that matters in life.

He moves to tap Femi on the cheek, not only to relieve his ears of the assault of the mannerless man's noise, but to jolt him awake with a gentle slap. As he turns his head, the once infuriating envelope comes into his line of vision, and he manages a smile that seems to suggest him to have forgotten much of his problems. No sooner had he left the park yesterday, disappointed and dejected, than his stomach regained a sweetness and warmth that he hadn't felt in a long time. The cryptic quotation by Nietzsche was annoying enough, but the short message at the other side of the note made up for Abass' nonsense that had made him go irate that evening. Behind it were written the following words, that made his eyes beam with life, "Meet up at House of Janet. No business this time. We are not in charge, no uncertainty to fear. Someone needs you to perform. Expecting you tomorrow night." He went to bed thinking about it. That's right, he wasn't missing in his dreams. His unconscious was lost in a romance with the exciting news.

House of Janet is a Night Club in Lagos where powerful people - politicians, oil magnates, super rich business people, debauched pastors and imams, celebrities - come to dine in a world of passion and spirit. They drink wine. Eat fruits plucked from the healthiest vines. And consume expensive food that makes the dishes of Yoruba Kings seem like meals for ordinary swines. These are not the very things that make House of Janet such a special, unique, and, indeed, mysterious night club, simultaneously awesome and awful. It's most interesting aspect is the existence of the Red Room. Here, souls are painted in the primitive colors of human life without paying mind to noble values and ideas of shame. In the Red Room, the elite come to have fun, away from the prying eyes of the nosy masses. Not only are they protected from the masses and the greedy media, but even their own identities remain hidden from one another, while their most protected anatomical secrets are let out for the others to see. Each member of the House of Janet who wants to access the Red Room has to come in nakęd, but with a mask. The mask has a device fixed to it that sends out waves that interfere with the frequency and amplitude of its wearer's voice, rendering it unrecognizable and undiscernable. It reacts to the vibration of sound waves. This way, no member can make out the identity of another through their voice. You are free to go wild without any fear of being discovered. They enjoy sexual orgies, amidst the crazy music hitting their souls from within the blaring speakers. They indulge in BDSM, and share vulgar erotic stories. There is even room for more cool-headed forms of literature, and it is exactly one of these that Jay will be going there to perform.

Femi had always made fun of him for his bardolatry - an hilarious over-fixation on appreciating and obsessing over the works of Shakespeare - that has earned him neither recognition nor a penny. Whenever he is questioned about not focusing on a career in Literature, Jay would typically reply that when life bestows you with a gift you neither love nor ask for, you look elsewhere to find the satisfaction you crave. Although, at times, it tends to be your only solace, when you have become a failure at other things. And this time, he's doing it for real, with all the enthusiasm his spirit can afford, not because he's a failure and needs solace, but because his once-in-a-life-time chance seems to have finally arrived.

Yes! He's going to House of Janet by night fall. He is one of the very few Lagosians who have knowledge of its existence, because, of course, he once moved in the reified circle of the elite before drowning in the mud of penury. Although, he may be getting out of that very soon. The first time he found out about the Red Room, his mind went to the Muslim women who covered themselves but committed fornication and adultery more than the average sultry woman. They could indulge in the most unholy activities and still walk around as pious, because of their concealed identities. He wondered how many an Imam has met his wife at the gate of an Hotel, without recognizing her. What a fake world, where everyone deceives the other. Things are never really what they seem. But the very day we refuse to stop accepting perception as reality, our world collapses, because our reality and knowledge are determined by what we perceive.

Femi rushes out of the bathroom, to find Jay already dressed up, prepared for his invitation to the House of Janet. He had already told him about it, but unfortunately, he isn't allowed to go with him.

"What? I thought you'd be going at night."

"I want to make it as early as possible. The city is unpredictable. Remind me again the number of destinies the Lagos traffic has destroyed."

"Hahahahaha. Are you anxious? If it is about going early, then this is way too early."

"Actually, I'm not going there directly. I'm meeting up with Abass."

"At Surulere? How much would that cost from here in Ikorodu?"

"You think I'd go looking for him, despite how ambiguous he sounded? He gave no precise address."

"So, what are you planning?"

Jay collapses back into his bed, facing upward, observing the ceiling. Cobwebs. The success of the spider invasion into their small room - others would call it a cubicle - is just as exact as the success of the invasion of failure and penury into their lives and reality. Anyway, that's about to end soon.

"He left his number on the other side of the note. Just below the short message he wrote on it. I have spoken with him. We are meeting at a restaurant."

Femi, who had been dressing up as they conversed, fastens the last button on the right sleeve of his shirt.

"Which restaurant?"

"It's not popular. It's one of those local joints, here in Ikorodu. Mama Kunle Foods he called it."

"Hahahahaha. These your guys are really cheap indeed. From a cheap amusement park to a petty restaurant. They really think humiliation is the only honor you deserve."

"I know, right. Watch out, bro. If this works out as expected, I'll be the one calling the shots in the gardens and on the boulevards of the world underlying Lagosian streets. Let me get going now."

He stands up to his feet and bends over to tighten his shoelaces. Rising, he makes for the door. It's almost fallen off. They're already prey for the predators of the night. But it doesn't matter what becomes of the door of their dilapidated cage now. In few hours time, it will no longer be their nursery.

"Good luck, bruh." Femi winks at him, munching down on his bread. Provisions have petered out, and Jay is going out with their last penny. He has to make do with this for now. Most of all, he has to believe in Jay.

Seeing his friend wink, Jay couldn't help but smile. He flashes back to the girl from yesterday doing the exact same thing. "I can see my luck staring me in the face."

Out he goes, closing the door gently behind him.

I'm not disappointed

zinnyzee:
I'm not disappointed

You can check now. But I'm not done still. I'll finish soon.

You mean this chapter still hasn't finished?

zinnyzee:
You mean this chapter still hasn't finished?

Lol. I think you guys would think it's too short. You think it's okay like that?

Moreover, I haven't even touched on the event that made me give it that title. You know, I'm making it up as I go along (that's how I work best at times). I don't have it all planned. I never thought I would have to write that much before getting down to the very subject that inspired the title.

What do you think, should I save that for the next chapter, and change the title? Or make the chapter longer to accommodate the passages that will make sense of the title?

zinnyzee. I just checked now, and it doesn't seem to be all that shorter than the first chapter. They're relatively of the same length.

If you care for uniformity, maybe I should leave it at that, and change the title?

Tollzara:
zinnyzee. I just checked now, and it doesn't seem to be all that shorter than the first chapter. They're relatively of the same length.

If you care for uniformity, maybe I should leave it at that, and change the title?

I think i'm good however you want it to be.... But in my own opinion, it'd make more sense to make the chapters uniform, even if they're gonna be more than each other, it shouldn't be too obvious.


If you know it wouldn't take long to arrive at the subject of your title, you could go on. But if it's still further away, you might wanna change your title

zinnyzee:
I think i'm good however you want it to be.... But in my own opinion, it'd make more sense to make the chapters uniform, even if they're gonna be more than each other, it shouldn't be too obvious.


If you know it wouldn't take long to arrive at the subject of your title, you could go on. But if it's still further away, you might wanna change your title

Hmm. Alright, then. I'll save it for tomorrow's chapter. Thanks a lot for your feedbacks. Much appreciated.

Lemme change the title.