Alitair's Posts
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Where is Evans sef? |
Opara |
Why always Peace mass? |
Is it in Nigeria or in Obodo oyibo? |
FemiEddy:E go tey o |
FemiEddy: |
Who knows what prompted the survey? First arrest likely to happen next election.... |
eshietIntrepid:Driving school 2017 |
The part near the pocket. |
Nwodosis:Those people are wonderful! Their own is born with them |
MrBrownJay1:3somer
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hakeem4:I LOVE YOU MAN |
NOC1:NL has lost focus... |
*bushmeat soup finale* He swallowed hard, trying to prevent the, now acrid, soup from welling up from his belly and out onto the table. With words that tasted like ash he called to the proprietor, "Madam Mba! Tell me. It is very important, where did your butcher get this bushmeat?" # As he spoke, the sound of helicopters could be heard, the helicopters that were continuing their search for whatever it was that had landed the night before... |
*bushmeat cont'd IV* He was almost finished and scooped up the dregs from the bowl. The last morsel went into his mouth and he sucked on the bone; sucked, but was not rewarded by tender meat. He took the ‘bone’ from his mouth and gaped. It was not animal at all, but some sort of metal, it was a small band with a dark jewel-like setting. Within the jewel flickered red squiggles; they could have been numbers, or perhaps, letters; but they were in a script that he had never before seen, and so he couldn't tell. There were tiny protrusions on the item that seemed to be impossibly small buttons, too small for Milesix’s fingers to operate. As he inspected the artefact, the last squiggle changed and Milesix glanced at the watch on his wrist making a terrible, but inevitable, connection. |
*bushmeat soup cont'd III* Madam Mba smiled and returned with a plastic mug of water drawn from the bucket that she kept at the end of the table. Milesix gave thanks for the food and dug in with his spoon. As he ate, Pious, who had finished his meal but was loitering, as was his custom, carried on the conversation. Pious needed no responses to keep things moving. It had been said that, if he were abandoned alone in the mountains, Pious would still have his favourite person there to talk to. “I wonder if we will ever be visited by aliens?” he began. “There would be much that they could teach us, these great beings from the stars. Or would they be great? We might be giants compared to them. I wonder if the helicopters will be out and about again tonight.” Milesix knew that no reply was needed to any of the statements and so he simply continued eating. The soup was wonderful, rich and greasy from the palm oil, the meat, whatever it was, was delicate and tasty; like chicken. He wondered where Madam Mba obtained her supplies... |
*bushmeat soup cont'd II* Pious Chukwu was sitting in his normal spot at one end of the bench and Milesix nodded a greeting to him. "Good evening Pious. I hope that your day was fruitful." "Good evening Milesix. It was indeed. And you? I hope that you are well?" "My brain is crying for release, but, apart from that, I am well." "So you are still studying?" "Unfortunately, yes." "Have you heard of all of the excitement last night?" "No, I have been in my house all day. What have I missed?" "No one knows! There were rumours of an attempted coup; others tell of the return of the Gods, still others (those who watch too many American television shows) tell of alien visitations. All that I know is that the military helicopters were flying all night, searchlights blazing." Milesix laughed, “Aliens!” Madam Mba approached and placed two dishes in front of Milesix; her famous rice and beans and a bowl of soup. “Thank you madam,” said the student. |
*bushmeat soup cont'd* He was momentarily distracted by a vendor who was playing the latest CD by the Ali Musa All Stars, but, no matter how much he coveted the disc, money was not in great supply and so he resisted the temptation. Madam Mba was at her usual spot, she sat on a low stool tending a carefully rationed fire, her Dutch Wax wrapper improbably pristine. Before sitting, Milesix ordered his usual plate of rice and beans and stooped to sniff the rich red soup that was bubbling in a large pan perched upon three stones in the fire. The mouth-watering aroma of palm oil rose from the pan, calling to him. "What is your soup today?" Madam Mba smiled, this was always the question, and so she gave her traditional answer. "Bushmeat in palm oil gravy." "And the provenance of the meat? Is it monkey or rat, is it dog or cat?" "It is bushmeat, there is nothing more to tell." Laughing, Milesix added bushmeat soup to his order and made for the table. |
BUSHMEAT SOUP: My personal favorite. Nigerians don't dull # Milesix Johns tramped along the red sand by the side of the highway. He'd been studying in his rooms all day and needed to allow some fresh air into his head to clear his brain; and so he had decided that cooking tonight was just too much effort. Milesix was heading for Madam Mba’s, she of the incomparable rice and beans, to take his dinner there. The sun was going down behind the hills to his right, turning the sky a glorious purple above the golden peaks. Milesix once again questioned his decision to study accountancy; he knew that sitting outside, painting that glorious vista, would be so much better for his soul. But a man must earn a living; or so his father insisted... Up ahead was the town motor park, at the junction between the highway and the narrow road leading into the town proper. |
BREAKFAST: I should have known better than to continue on the trail after dark. The manjak is slow and stupid, I could have slept in a tree for the night and caught up with it in the morning. But no... I had to prove that humans are expert hunters! All it took was one slip, one misplaced boot, and I was down. Foot trapped between two rocks. I considered the options: sit here and hope for rescue or cut off my foot. I went with option number one. As the sky begins to turn grey, I hear the snuffling sound of shredaxes waking up. Breakfast time... |
DISAPPEAR: As we entered the village, ShanRaaa bragged of his conquests among the young mollies there, while blowing smoke rings of that god- awful stuff of his. Seeing us, a number of angry MmmmRawh ran up. I could tell they were angry, despite their cute furry faces. It was the knives. ShanRaaa dodged the first blade that was thrown and he melted away; leaving me surrounded by angry knife-wielding MmmmRawh and a slowly dissipating cloud of foul-smelling smoke. |
GUEST: Benjamin Doubtfire was a staid old man who held no truck with frivolity. He was also a world renowned sceptic who had made a career of debunking paranormal activities; his particular forte being assigning rational explanations to UFO sightings. As Dr. Doubtfire awoke, he tried to recall how he’d come to be lying face down on a shiny metallic surface. It was all a blank. “Good evening, doctor,” said a disembodied voice. “We are sooooo glad that you could be our guest.” The ‘grey’ stepped forward, its massive eyes twinkling, a strange probe in its slender fingered hand. Dr. Doubtfire clenched his buttocks in vain... |
SLIP: The King stared into the dim screen. His generals had informed him that this would be the last chance to communicate. “Have all the crops been planted?” “Yes... crrrxck... Your Majesty,” came the static-filled reply. “The colony’s defences,” continued the King, “are all in place?” “Of course King... crrrxck...” The connection was almost gone. “One last thing...” He was rushing now. “Make sure that all the children are tortured.” The Military Governor blinked, but he knew better than to disobey. “Very well, King Herod.” The connection broke and the King sat back, satisfied. A tickle of doubt entered his brain. ‘I did say tutored just now... Didn’t I?’ |
DUST: Professor Pulvere stood in front of the rig at the back of his laboratory. He was sweating, the authorities were getting close. Luckily, he had been about to test his invention; so why not on himself? If it worked he’d be transported to a parallel world and would be safe. He fired up the contraption, a ghostly luminosity filling the air. The sirens were screaming just outside, and so he dived into the shimmering light. In another lab, immeasurably distant, but just a jump away, a cloud of dust materialised; just in time for the late night janitor to sweep it away. |
Nanofiction: GLOW “OK Jimmy; I’m off. Let me in when I’m finished. And remember, DON’T touch the blue button!” Jimmy always got freaked out when his Mum was like this. Not really listening, he nodded. Sheila finished suiting up and exited the airlock. The planet was a cesspool of flesh-eating bugs, but she needed to fix that stabiliser. # Later, a tired Sheila entered the airlock and waved at the camera. Jimmy, his music blaring in his headphones, waved back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the flashing blue button and pushed it. In the airlock, the biohazard incinerator began to glow and Sheila screamed... |
Its a collection of short stories about aliens, space and nanotech I read online. Just wanted to share. Read and share your thoughts. |
feldido:You just had to go and miss the whole point...
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Meanwhile the assigned and traditional cattle rearers in my country would rather put bomb inside their cow... Turn them into weapons of mass destruction. |
The voom sound made by volvo cars when you flash them light from behind goes a long way to remind me of the ancestral origin of the car... |
IamKashyBaby:Ain't nothing normal there... You never see guys being this nawti. Go and kiss ur grandma and tell her its pretty normal since you don't know what is good and bad. |
The wine has more value than most 40year olds in Nigeria. |
