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This one has to go right, Festus”

“Yes, it will” I assured.

“No complaints this time, with everything I have said about you, you are almost a superstar to this girl”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I might have lied a little… just…just go with the flow” Martha urged me on. It was never a good sign when you don’t know the kind of lie she had told, she tended to get carried away with her lies.

“Remember, her name is Veronica.”

I agree it is quite strange, warning a grown man like me about a date, I personally don’t like it but I understand where she was coming from.

Martha had nicknamed me the mood terminator ever since I recovered from Angela’s case, it’s not like it’s my fault, how would I have known not closing your mouth when you chew would annoy so much? I was just being real, I mean, we all do it in the comfort of our homes or, or telling her you love her while it is getting steamy after a first date?… I mean, I meant it!

I paced the living room for minutes rehearsing how the phone call would play out. I practised a cool voice, you know, so I sound like I have something better to do… ladies fancy that. Maybe I should introduce myself with my nickname or just say it like James Bond does.

“My name is Festus, Agbaje Festus” … sounds cool right?

With the conversation thought out and ironed. I dialled her number and waited.

“Hello” She said in an accent that sounded like America and Britain had a love child in a Yoruba community.

I introduced myself in one of my sleeker voices.

She shrieked and loosened up into seamless conversation. Her laughter reminded me of a baby’s cackle. Frankly, I’m not a funny guy but she laughed at all my jokes, indeed, Martha had worked magic.

Resting on cloud nine with a song in my throat, we agreed to meet at 4 in a restaurant the day after. I danced round the living room and punched the air wildly till my fist hit a wooden frame and the pain quieted me down.

*****

It was 6 and I was sitting alone at my table in a crowded restaurant. She promised to be here in 5 minutes; two hours ago. I believed her. The staff had grown tired of asking what I would like to eat. At the table next to mine, a young couple sat, new clothes, new haircut. They ticked all the boxes for a first date. The boy wore an anxious look on his face and covered his mouth whenever he showed too much teeth and the girl, the girl had rice and chicken on her plate. She ate around her chicken, and under her breath, you could see she dreaded when she would have to eat the chicken with her hands.

That is the thing about dates, you have to be civil, and there is only a blurry line between civility and being fake. It is like a job interview, you can’t possibly know someone at these things, you show a little bit of yourself and they will promise to call you later. It reminded me of one time I suggested we split the bill after a huge meal and the girl turned asthmatic immediately – I still maintain, I dodged a bullet there.

As a volcano readied itself to spill anger into my feelings, there she was, looking radiant, obviously, a few miles away from my league. I immediately absolved her of tardiness and I, in blind haste stumbled into love. I picked myself up and then collapsed again in it. She wore her smile as proudly as young girls wear engagement rings, and when she opened her mouth, it was bliss. We clicked.

The date ran its course from good to great, and from amazing to 10:30, then it was too late for her to go home. She had to sleep at my place, but not before making me promise to keep wandering hands to myself.

Once at my place, she stripped down to her underwear, she swung her hips seductively as she pranced around excitedly. And when it was time to sleep, she stretched her frame on the bed then curled up in a fetal position. Her backside revealed too much of itself to me. My fingers wandered to her shoulder but she shrugged, I promptly remembered the promise and kept wandering hands to my side.

Two days after, there I was, still riding on the wave of the successful date. I felt like I could truly take on any woman now. My phone rang and it was Martha.

“Hello, wingman” I was delighted.

“Festus… Are you gay?” I really was torn between being offended by her absurd question or her lack of pleasantries.

“Festus, answer me oo” She was shouting now.

“I am not gay!” I snapped.

“Hmmm.. You are not gayyy” she said, almost deep in thought, but we know it’s all a lie, Martha never thinks.

“But you are impotent right?” She bounced back with another conclusion that threw me off.

“No.”

“Festus, you know you can tell me anything” she said sombrely.

“I am not impotent, why?”

“Veronica said you didn’t touch her after all the hints she dropped, ehn? Festus. Tell me, how do you drive when you can’t see signals?”

“She said that?”

“She told me she wore her favourite underwear for you and you did nothing”

“But she made me promise not to..” I started.

“Promise not to what? It seems you have no idea what women want”

“I tried to to touch her but she squirmed like a jelly fish”

“Ehn?…Festus, what are you saying? we are talking about women you are talking fish”

“Never mind”, I said, exasperated.

“But if she wanted me to do something why did she make me promise? Why did she push my hand away”

“For a woman, no means yes”

“Really?” I was bemused

“Really” she said.

“Why?”

“Oh Festus, my Festus” She crooned like I was a child. “…Do I have to tell you everything? …This is the foreign exchange and sex is currency. According to the laws of economics, there must always be demand, high demand. If sex is given without a high demand, it will hurt the market.”

Her display of intelligence in the oddest of times never ceased to amaze me. I sighed.

“Well, can we try again?” I asked

“With Veronica?”

“With Chioma.”

“Chioma?” She was puzzled

“Of course, I’m talking about Veronica, who else?”

“No need to be angry at me, did I tell you to be everybody’s brother?”

I wasn’t ready for this. “Can we try again?” I persisted.

“No, you are in the friendzone now, you people are siblings”

Silence.

.

.

“Well, hmmm…. I can try to convince her, but it has to go right o, Festus.” She said.. . call drifted into tips arming me on how to disarm a woman. Education never felt more empowering. After a while, Martha called and asked me to chat her up. After rehearsals, I called again and we decided to watch a movie.

Date night crept up on me and I found myself in the cinema, Veronica seated beside me. She wore a button down shirt and showed some cleavage, she wants me. Unlike the previous date when her waist moved to my tune, she was staunch. She said little, and the date undulated ceaselessly between strange and awkward. But she still laughed when I made my jokes and she still threw her head into my arms.

After the movie, we headed back to my place. I had dusted the cobwebs off my condoms and practised with my pillow. A huge smile tore into my face and all I could do was plan its procession.

“Festus, what are you doing?” Veronica screamed and snapped me out of my daydream unceremoniously.

I almost hit a Suya man as he crossed the street. Nothing could alter the way I felt, we arrived and once again, she took off her clothes. Every movement of her body broke a new sweat on my forehead. I bit my lip, said a little prayer and went for it.

*******

It was 3 A.M and I was seated in front of the bathroom.

“Veronica please.” I said, one hand on the door knob. The other held a toilet paper to my bleeding nose. I had tried to make my move and she had shrugged. But like Martha said, every no was a yes and so I persisted, grabbing harder each time she put my hands away. With the nos further cementing my resolve and increasing my resilience.

I had overpowered her and with my mouth in hers, drowning pleas in a sea of saliva while she struggled beneath me. Only a matter of time before she starts enjoying it I thought. As I grew comfortable in my stride, her flailing arms grabbed a perfume bottle and she smashed sense into my nose with it, I bled in return.

She gathered herself and clothes, ran into the bathroom and locked it. I followed, apologising profusely. Here I was, at the door, bleeding out what was left of my dignity. I heard her call a friend to come pick her up, I heard the word ‘rape’ and was shocked. She sobbed a little and cursed my entire generation in brief fits of anger….. All I could do was beg, as I’m doing now.

Her friend came and she opened the bathroom door, fully dressed. Her shirt was buttoned to the throat. I couldn’t even imagine her cleavage if I tried. She made for the front door and I followed behind at a safe distance. Her friend, a well-built guy whose workout regimen didn’t concern his legs shot me deathly looks as she entered the vehicle. He tried to assert dominance with eye contact and won as I looked away.

Broken, dejected with a nose that leaked, I searched for my phone and called Martha.

End


It took a while to come back to this series, hope you all enjoy reading this, as I did, writing it.

Part 2

My phone gives my position away as the only light source in the room. I am rested behind the front door with my bat leaning beside me. My left hand busied itself suppressing the bleed in my stomach while I type this with one hand. The siren gets louder and the authorities will be here any minute.

I had left the bathroom dragging the bat on the floor as I walked slowly to Labake's room. The corridors had never felt smaller but I struggled to press forward. I peered into the room with the door slightly opened. The room was empty, she was probably hiding.
I felt a rush of anger and barged into the room, taking the T.V with one swipe of the bat. It felt good and I stared as sparks flew from its body and the screen went into static before giving way to blackness.

I rushed out of the room and I started searching for her. One room at a time. I called out for her but she didn't answer. No, she didn't think we were having sex, she had an idea of what was going on. She had always been a smart girl and I loved her. I searched all the rooms one by one and it was just as I left it. Silence Of The Lambs was still showing on T.V while the remote was at the centre table as I left it. Rebecca's phone blinked but I ignored. I walked to the door and I locked it. Putting the key in my pocket.
It was hide and seek again, Daddy just got home feeling bad and defeated. My ball had grazed his CD rack, toppling the collections unto the floor and breaking the sit so it looped to the right when it stood. I was tensed, Daddy had seen it and had gone ballistic. I could hear the footsteps coming upstairs. I ran and I hid myself under my bed whimpering and dreading his appearance . Yes! Labake had to be under her bed.
I took the detour hastily and made for her bedroom. I kicked the door open this time. I promptly entered and dropped on my knees like the monster does in horror movies. Ready with a catchphrase in cheek for comedic pleasure. Instead, I'm met with the soles of her feet which was smooth and a little sweaty, she had been wearing socks all day.
I latched my palms on her ankle and jerked once and she shrieked while providing resistance by kicking with all her strength. Her ankles are almost outside. I jerked again, and she squeals but her back is already out and this is almost over. I moved back and pulled as hard as I could dragging her full body from underneath the bed.

Seven year old she was, I could hold her upside down with one arm and look into her terrified face. But as I was about lifting her she stabbed me in my stomach just above my right hip. I dropped her immediately and she fell to the ground, pulling the knife from inside me and scurrying out of the room. I felt the surface of the wound with my hand then spread the skin around it to see how deep it was. Blood seeped perpetually but the adrenaline had me going. This is interesting.

I left the room in search of her. She had gone around the house switching off all the lights in all the rooms. This is real hide and seek now. I should have my fun.
"Labbaakkee.... come outside" I said

My voice almost sonorous. I teased her, she must be ready to play. I listened more than I walked, running my fingers on the wall like a braille page, searching for the light switch. False sounds I heard had me swinging the bat with immense energy into darkness. Almost dislocating my shoulder. She could be anywhere, she could be everywhere.

I made for a light switch in the sitting room feeling the wall as I took my steps slowly, listening for safety. I had gotten close to the switch when I heard footsteps coming towards me. I swung twice, hitting nothing but air. I could hear it, the footsteps moving back into the corridor . I pursued her. Increasing pace in the direction of the thuds of her feet on the ground.

I could tell she was moving away facing me and I could also tell when she turned and broke into a sprint. I chase in darkness and I had almost caught up when I ran into the wall at the end of the corridor. Mildly destabilised, I regained composure and laid in wait. She was in one of the rooms with a knife and I was backed up a corner. I waited for her.

At this time, I could hear the sirens in the distance. Labake had called the police. We couldn't play the waiting game for long anymore. I rummaged my pocket and I found a pen. I threw it where I thought the light switch could be. It hardly made a thud. I waited but she did not come out. I fetched my phone and I threw it.

Thud.

In less than a second I heard footsteps running out of Rebecca's room which I also shared. I swung the bat. Clunk. I hit and I heard a squish sound. Her body was flung from the force and it hit the ground with a thud and then silence. I quickly walk down the corridor to the light switch. Stepping on her body and almost falling in the process. I flicked the switch and saw her body. With brain matter littering the ground. I flicked the light switch.
The sirens have gotten louder and I cannot possibly run away. I unlocked and stood behind the door, patiently waiting as two policemen step out of their vehicle and made for the porch. I hope I survive this. I'm sorry Labake.

Yes , it is a way to avoid and shift attention from herself

damiperry:
Haha, this is soo funny....
Plus, I'm confused
Why did she faint.??.. Is that like a way to avoid the question or what? And you said she is experienced... In what?

Thanks

OMA4U:
Interesting..... Hilarious ending...

Right now, I am in my bathroom. My phone remains my only companion beside me in the tub. The tap over at the toilet still runs into the sink washing the smudge of blood down the drain, there is still a patch of drippy blood above the water's radius in the sink. The water runs while it remains untouched and its shape, unaltered.

Hair and skin products lie scattered and opened on the ground. The aroma of the conditioner she was using still rents the air. A stench that competes with the foul smell of iron in there, the intrusive odour is almost like her blood is crying. Labake, her daughter has gone back to her room to watch T.V after growing tired of knocking on the door, she probably thinks we were having rough sex. Oh my God, I didn't mean to do anything.

We met at Labake's baseball practice two months ago. We live at Lekki, so we are a little well-off. I came to watch them play as I always do on days that relax me while Rebecca came to watch her daughter. I knew I caught her eye when I jumped into the field to carry Labake when she fainted from dehydration. Although the panic was for a moment, being the first to react over a child who was not mine caught her fancy. Getting close to her ever since had been seamless.

Rebecca never cared about my whims or the fact that I own an unsuccessful video game channel on YouTube and I intend for it to be my source of livelihood. She took me in when my mom started forgetting things easily and she needed to be moved to a hospice home. I truly love her and I mean it, every bit of her.

But this morning on my way to get the paper as is my morning ritual. The homeless guy I sometimes talked to asked me what expression would be on my face after I die. I told him I didn't know and he asked me to think about it. I briskly shortened the conversation and walked away from him. Weirdo. But the seed had been planted, throughout the day I could not get my mind off it.

Rebecca went to work and Labake went to school as usual. Leaving me home alone with thoughts that I can swear were originally not mine. I spent the day googling pictures of popular dead people and trying to guess the cause of their deaths. But most of them were just.... blank. Not definitive. Probably because the face relaxes in the hours that followed the death. I needed to see a fresh dead face.

Rebecca and her daughter came back from work and she made dinner. Dinner was as tasty as ever. I didn't talk much, she didn't either. Rebecca knew when I wanted to be left with my thoughts. After dinner, we watched a little T.V after which she left me for the bathroom. Silence of The Lambs was on, it is my third time seeing it, I can't be as clinical as Hannibal. I hardly even know if I can cover my tracks. But I really need to see that expression.

After minutes of deliberating and staring blankly at the movie. I ran into Labake's room to take her baseball bat which leaned on the wall behind the door. Labake was playing with her computer, she hardly even looked at me. I stepped outside her room and made for the bathroom. I held the grip firmly, dragging the top of the barrel on the floor as I walked slowly. The sound it made gave me peace, somehow.

I kicked the door open, the loud noise startled her. She looked at me, almost terrified but I didn't allow it to register. I swung the bat to the back of her left knee and she knelt down with a squeal. Her hand, frantically trying to hold on to whatever that can support her weight as she went down, toppling hair and skin products on the ground in the process. Labake was already at the door, hitting the door while asking if she's okay "Mommy are you okay?" I slowly rested my hand against the door, preventing her from gaining access. Then I turned the key, to face Rebecca.

Her face was contorted in pain while She struggled, between heavy breaths to gain composure. I strike again at her chest, and again below her ribs, I am taking good swings today. I needed the face intact. She tried to crawl away from me as she aims for the tub. I watched her for a while as she whimpered silently. The door is locked; I was with the bat. I might as well enjoy this.

The door was banging. Labake was still there.
"Go to your room honey" Rebecca said. I admired her bravery.
She crawled toward the edge of the bath and she flung a bucket at me. I dodged it, but in the process I dropped the bat. That was her opportunity to lunge at him with all she had. She took it, but she slipped on the spilt conditioner on the ground and hit her head on the sink with a huge clunk.

She didn't move. In her right hand was a small pocket knife that she still held tightly even in death. Her thick blood covers the floor at an even pace slowly. Her eyes were on me and her mouth was opened in an "O" shape. She looked different dead. Almost beautiful. The voice in my head subsided and my emotions came reeling in.

It paralysed me and I sunk into the tub immediately. I fetched my phone from my pocket and punched in the emergency number. I have not dialed yet. I only multi tasked to post this story. What did I do? I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me. I made Labake, an innocent 7-year-old motherless. Such a beautiful little girl who is absolutely brilliant, she has this high pitched laughter when she's tickled. It’s amazing. But what would be her expression at death? Why am I thinking of this?

But the voice is already in my head and it needs to be quelled. Slowly, I get out of the tub and pick the baseball bat. I will make this quick, I'm about to put my phone in my pocket now. I will come back, post about how it goes and dial the emergency number.
.

lol, preach

feyorpe:
The fact is that she was not ready for marriage any more, probably the guy came with his proposal late or may be the new guy was more handsome and richer. Guys... Play Smart and be Very Bold.

lol, just seeing this, thanks.

cosmo84:
Faint bawo? I was reading with such gusto n you now ended it like that. I had forgotten it was meant to be a short story. You are very good. I don't flatter.

Guirrella sands is where they think the rebel stays
Kalahari shades with sun black face
Mask, Masquerade
With a warrior's phrase!

Hanging down the side of his lips
That gun is fighting for something
Family is not dying for nothin'
Rejector of morals
Non conformers
He resides no more in sandstorms
Struggling for shade in sand dunes
He no longer uses open clouds as blankets
He appears at every sunset
A cause is the magnet
But in the most unfortunate way
His Neck became strangled by the corporate snake
Suited in suits that do not accentuate traits
Darkened brows... Sooted suits
But won't he take off that tie that has tied him in ti-ght ties
Deep down he is still a rebel
Rejector of morals
Non conformer
Soul rebel


Inspired by Bob Marley's song of eponymous title.

Eridith:
Why she go faint na? Abeg wake her up make she answer Joor! A very nice story U have here. But why do I feel its rushed

Does it? Lol. No need expanding where there was no direct effect on the story. Besides, it had to be short. Thanks very much for reading

Ridwan0100:
9ice write up

thanks for the feedback

Halfway through the service, Angela strolled in and sat in Martha's vicinity. The plan was to inform F.C that the minister wife, who sat in front wanted to see her immediately after service. F.C was chosen for this because he had the ability to make even the most wanton of things seem urgent.
I zoned out all through the service rehearsing my speech and thinking of the possible ways these Quixotic action would end. I also prayed about my predicament a bit. Frankly, I didn't think God was listening.
As the benediction was said, F.C swung into action and I observed steadily as I brought out the wedding ring. A ring I had purchased years ago which set me back a few months salary. Immediately I saw her moving towards the Minister's wife seat in front. I pushed Old Mr Tafa who suffered a stroke last year out of my path and made my way briskly to the front of the church.
My timing coincided with hers and I knelt in front of everybody with an ear to ear smile and asked.
"All my life, I searched for a perfect soul mate, and I always knew I found her when I found you.
Angela Oriowo, will you marry me?"
F.C, who was beaming behind her shouted
"Rooomanntic".

There was a five second pause and a loud thud.

She fainted.
I didn't move, I just stayed there on one knee while they tried to revive her.
She was experienced.

The end..


You can check other articles out on my blog alokanoyedele..com

Thanks for reading.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, I was caught in the Lagos after-work traffic when Angela called. I held the phone in my hand as it rang and vibrated. Waiting for a few seconds before I picked. Nigerians do that, makes us seem like we have other things to do than pick phone calls.
I pick and wait for her to talk first
"Hello babe, how was work" she says in a worried tone
"Work was good love, how was the day"
Conversation these days were a torture.
"Fine" .. She replies.
There was a five second silence.
She hesitated, then said
"Fest-Tus, we need to talk"
"Oh, what about babe?"
"About our relationship. You see...."
I panicked and I switched off my phone, almost hitting the okada man in front of me.
I ignored him as he spread his fingers and pointed them at me.
Nothing good comes out of "we need to talk" in relationships.
Martha's last relationship ended with those same words.


Angela had wined and dined with me for years and now she wanted out. Martha had fed me rumours of her escapades with a new guy she wants to 'settle' with. But it does not happen, she cannot latch unto me, receiving love, affection and money whilst calling my name in return. I mean, I liked the way she called my name. But not to that extent.
Mum had started to look at me worriedly. I had lost my appetite, I had been reclused in my room. Of course, I lived with my parents, I couldn't spend that much on a woman and have an abode for myself. The stress was telling on my demeanour. My phone was still off, something had to be done and done fast.

On Thursday, I finally switched on my phone. I waited for ten seconds to receive any pending messages. It was the longest ten seconds of my life. My phone beeped, I had a heart attack but it was only MTN. She was mannered not to break it off over a text message. I dialled Martha's number and waited.

It rang twice, she picked.
Martha didn't wait for the phone to ring. "Hello" she was chewing.
"Hi Martha, there is trouble in paradise" I said as I ran my hand through my hair
"The white elephant?" She was chewing gum.
"Yes, she said she wanted to talk"
"That hoe" she said, snickering
I broke down
"I don't know what to do"
"Hush Festus, she doesn't like public embarrassment..." She paused before she continued
"If you happen to propose to her in front of the whole church on sunday, she would be forced to say yes"

"And if she says no?"

"Then the relationship is off. But to everybody, she is the devil and you are the victim, it will make things easier"

"But, can't I salvage the relationship?"

"The only thing you can salvage is your self esteem and not being the guy who was dumped"

Her reply cut me like a mishai's knife and I wept.
Even though Martha might be labelled dimwitted because she once threatened to commit suicide with the flat end of a fork when we were in our first year, she's had an affinity for lecherous schemes which made her a precious friend in hard times.


I texted her.
The text contained me inviting her for Sunday service with the family and promising we would talk after. I pressed send and held my breath. It was happening.

On the D-day, I had wore my favourite Agbada. Got ready for church in a daze, I had, over time rehearsed the moment at which I would propose to her. It would be in front of the church immediately after the benediction and on my face would be worn the widest smile in the world. She would not want to disappoint.

The church was Pentecostal, Fola Collins who we called F.C paraded himself in front of the church as he handled Praise and Worship. F.C was as outspoken as he was literate, and he studied abroad. In Nigeria, that is usually tantamount to being very literate. I could sight Martha at the far extreme to my right, fastidious gossip, she was never one to miss an avenue like this.

To be continued....

Well, I have been writing for a while and a friend asked me to post a story of mine to nairaland for newer audience and feedback. Read and enjoy pls.


Fest-Tus. She called me. I liked the way she pronounced the first syllable with all her breath and just allowed the second one to seep through her lips. Nobody called me like that. People called my name everything but Oh, nobody called me like that.

I, in turn showered love and affection on the wide lipped, damsel who was to bear my name. She also had her idiosyncrasies, she could rival princess Diana with her British accent even though I had never set eyes on her British passport. I am not saying she didn't have one, but in the four years which our courtship lasted, I did not see it. She also took pride in eating with all cutleries in the numerous times we ate out, of course, I paid. But in the comfort of her apartment she ate almost everything with her hands. To you, reading this, She might come across as a poseur but she was my fiancée. She called my name right and I loved her.

I had been planning to propose to her since we graduated university. You see, we met in school at one of those parties where the dresses the ladies wore jumped up because the ground was filled with terrors. I had been in the company of Tunji, my only male friend then. We had been looking at the girls with hungry eyes and no courage. If only the sight could fulfil the intent of the heart, we would have been mobbed.

Tunji had dared me to send the most expensive drink to the most daring of them all. My mother, before I left my parent's abode for university had told me to be wary of "catfishes" but this was the fishiest of the cats. Her lipstick was so thick I could have sworn she could get lead poisoning by just licking her lips. Her golden skin shone in the flickering lights of the smoke filled disco house, she wasted no time coming over. Introducing herself as Angela, we became friends.
I still had my naivety and innocence with me but a predator like her had none. Angela exercised and worked me, taking with her every shred of innocence I had. I think I still retained my naivety outside her scope. I used to ask her how she lost her virginity but after hearing 3 different stories while she was under the influence. I simply gave up.

More than the romps I enjoyed in our courtship, the thing I loved most was that she was possessive of me, she did not hesitate to mark her territory with hostile glances and threats whenever she saw me with ladies who happened to be my departmental mates or church members. The only only person she could not drive away was Martha, of course, She on multiple occasions had traded words with Martha majorly calling her dimwitted and thick in the head while Martha responded by calling her a farm implement I wouldn't like to mention here. This usually ends up in a "Yoruba standoff"...... All talk and no action.
But this feeling of having someone who was willing to fight for one's attention and love was my most dominant driving force in the relationship. Hers was money, not that I paid her to be with me. But if at any point in time I had not given her money for some days. The signs would undeniably manifest.
I, aware of all these facts have made up my mind to propose to her. I had noticed her affection towards me was strained, our relationship slowly dwindled and gasped for air, coming alive in form of the most expensive diamond necklace my money could buy or when I got her a well paying job. I actually felt like it would never wane when I bought her a car. It did.
Martha, my close female Friend called her a "white elephant". I think she heard that phrase in a movie.

To be continued.