₦airaland Forum

Jackossky:
Cc:
Bluehaven, Oyoni, Jayslyder, eazykolobo, kingswaydavid, kingin55, yhungbrowhne,
Topestbilly. Seunfunmi18
Cc:
Chrysan
Seunfunmi18
Kcowen
halexandro
Babamagic
Bluehaven
Harunablezin
Oyoni
Artzdanielsz
OlufemiWhit
Ann2012
Sunflow
Godwindanielboy
Cadec007
Wapapod
Phoenix 90
You
Divepen

Faspen:
Following bumper to fender

LekinsRibirth:
I'm around... thanks.

Jackossky:
Update drops by 8pm on Saturday.

Catch ya then.

Faspen:
broda man you sef they come here its been a while how are you holding up

pablobellins:
where are your senses?

Anyways... Good job Larry.

skubido:
Must u quote all d story

Haba

LarrySun:
VI

The infamous thief, after narrowly escaping from Whitehouse, sought further refuge in another hotel considerably far away from the former. His new lodging was a more daring choice, for the hotel was far from Whitehouse but close to Chief Salami’s house. It was dangerous, probably silly, but also incredibly brilliant; the police would hardly search for Peter in nearby hotels, especially the one that is so close to Chief Salami’s house. The general belief would be that Peter was lodged in someplace far away. While the police waste their time turning almost all the hotels inside-out searching for him, he would relax here and plan how he was going to attack Salami.

This particular hotel was obviously not as grand as Whitehouse – not even close; it wasn’t even in its class – but it still provided a satisfactory level of comfort. He wouldn’t have to worry about being for now. He was perfectly safe here; no one knew his real face, and he had even changed his appearance by shaving off the beards. He now looked much younger, but still not anything like the boy being constantly shown on television stations. Chief Salami had done a good job in making him more popular.

For almost two weeks, the police searched everywhere for Peter. Naturally, the hunt for the thief would have waned after the first two days for they’d believe that the thief must have left the state, but salami never stopped breathing down their necks and raising hell. All the hotels in the city were checked more than once, except the one under their noses – the Madikwe Hotel. The Chief continued motivating the police to keep up the search, but nothing yielded positive results until the second week when the officer at the fore-front of the hunt devised a new ingenuous plan to narrow down the search.

On a sunny Thursday afternoon of the second week, Peter wore a light shirt and went out to get some new pieces of clothes from a boutique. The ones he had were now beginning to look like uniforms on him. That was not very safe. A person who wears the same kinds of clothes all the time usually attracts attention to himself. People will easily associate those kinds of clothes with him, making it hard for that particular person to blend easily with other people. Peter knew this, so he didn’t want anyone focusing attention on him. At the boutique, he carefully selected clothes that weren’t too flashy. Flamboyant clothes too easily attract people’s notice. He wouldn’t want to wear clothes that would cause people to admire him unnecessarily, or try to seduce him like Ms Coker.

The search for plain clothes even proved more daunting than fashionable ones. With his clothes packed, he made his payment and left the shop. He would have easily robbed this shop but that was unnecessary; he did not want to invite attention to himself. Of course he would not be caught, but it wouldn’t be worth it. What would he stand to gain by robbing a clothes-shop? He was no longer that ten-year-old boy in rags; and there was no money they would have that would be enough to satisfy him.

It was around 2pm when he stepped out of the shop. At this time the sun was already in its most intense temperature; he would have used an umbrella if he had one. And because the boutique was not very far from the hotel, Peter decided to trek the way back. The distance was longer than he had thought, and he was sweating profusely by the time he got to the hotel. He had to loosen two top buttons of his shirt. He signed himself in at the reception and went to his room. He put down a different signature this time, of course.

The receptionist, unlike the one from Whitehouse, was a very unattractive woman. Here was the first place where peter would find an ugly receptionist in a hotel. This woman was not only ugly, she also had a shabby appearance and a bad manner. She was a slim woman but was dressed in a kaftan that was meant to be worn by a woman of ample proportion. Everything about her dressing was wrong, even her hair was disheveled. Whenever she spoke, she always possessed a vocabulary of blood-curling cusswords. On many occasions, she had had series of physical brawls with both male and female clients. Little wonder the hotel was losing customers.

She hated Peter the first day he sought accommodation. It wasn’t that she suspected him of being a thief, of course she would have hated him much more if she knew that, but that was not the case; at least not immediately. She hated him because of a singular ridiculous reason: he was goodlooking. Beautiful, handsome,. Cute – she had a disdain for them all. It was a personal hatred that stemmed from self-loath. She had always been envious of beautiful people – even babies. She believed that everyone in the world should either be beautiful or ugly; and because she was ugly, then no one deserved to be beautiful. It was not right that some people should be beautiful while others ugly. She particularly disliked ladies more, especially the prostitutes – those ones should burn in hell. If she had her chance, she would condemn all of them to purgatory.

The hatred had resulted from the series psychological and physical abuse channeled towards her by her peers when she was a child. She had been cast away because of her hideous looks. She never had a boyfriend because no boy wanted to date the ugliest girl in the neighbourhood. When ugly boys got beautiful girlfriends, why was her case different? Why couldn’t she get a handsome boy, too? It was unfair! Oh, how unfair it was! When she lost her virginity to a drunk rapist in his sixties, she hated men generally and swore never to get married. The rapist had humiliated her further by demanding that she pay him some money for the act, for he believed he did her a great favour by raping her.

She watched the sweating Black sign in the movement book before leaving for his room. She watched him curiously as he walked away. She carried a passive expression because she didn’t want him suspecting that anything was amiss – he might escape again.

When she was sure that he was out of earshot, she reached for the telephone in front of her and called the police.

“Hello – that thief you are searching for – yes, Peter Black – yes, he’s here. Come immediately – Madikwe Hotel. Okay. Come quickly.”

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