Guys this an interesting series of short stories written by my lecturer .. I found it interesting to share with this community. after reading this episode, pls do well to visit her blog and conclude the story.



as a handsome bachelor is filled with fun and
adventure. I get loads of attention from ladies and since
many of them are desperate to “settle down” (as if they’ve
been scurrying around like squirrels), I’ve had quite a few
trial marriages, lol!
Last week (1st of December, to be precise), I moved to this
flat in a respectable neighbourhood in Enugu (Trans-Ekulu).
I’d made some cool cash through a Ponzi scheme and felt
an upgrade in my accommodation was in order. I moved in
at night as I didn’t want the prying eyes of neighbours
seeing my ratty furniture, which I’d hoped to change once I
got my next payment from those I was matched with in Blue
Royal Helping Hands Network before public confidence in
the scheme began to wane and people weren’t paying up as
expected.
But you will not believe I got a knock on my door (it was
almost midnight) and a lady in pj’s with a print wrapper
tied around her bosom was standing there scrubbing her
eyes. She squinted at me and yawned. I stepped back
understandably. The woman had just woken up from sleep!
She pushed the door away from me and squeezed into the
living room.
“Gosh, this place is so dusty!” she complained as she started
moving further in.
“Excuse me, who are you?”
I wanted to ask if she was with the local government
sanitary department, if there was such a thing. What made
her think she could walk into my FLAT, in the dead of
night, without introductions and start voicing her opinions
on its state? This was the reason I came to live here, away
from the room I occupied in a large compound at Obiagu,
still here in Enugu, where everyone was in everyone else’s
business.
“I’m your neighbour, Mama Chinonso. I’m the one who
gave you the keys when you came around yesterday or was
it two days ago” (an obvious reference to how late it was).
Right away. I saw that not only was this lady a stunner, her
looks were exotic.
“I didn’t recognise you and you will recall we weren’t
properly introduced.” I’m not sure I even looked at her
when she handed over the keys. I was in some kind of rush.
She continued her inspection of the rooms while I restrained
myself from ordering her out. When she returned to the
living room, she announced, “You can’t sleep here like this.
You will be sick. Wait for me.”
“Listen madam, I know you’re trying to be kind but it’s not
your problem. I think you should go back to sleep.”
Just then a gust of wind blew in through the open door. It
raised much dust and I sneezed repeatedly. How I hate the
harmattan season!
“See what I mean? I’ll be right back.”
In a few minutes, she had returned with a broom, a mopping
stick and a jerrycan of water. She had also slipped on a
shift which did nothing to hide her figure. I don’t do
married women, I reminded myself, before history would
repeat itself here.
“You should stay at the porch. If you had been specific
about when you were coming, we would have arranged to do
this before the day.”
I moved out with mixed feelings. I was grateful I wouldn’t
be inhaling all that dust but the last thing I wanted was a
close relationship with any female in this place. By letting
this woman clean my flat, I would be unable to shun her
and the rest of her kind as I planned to do. I hoped the
people living on the top floor of the four-flat building were
not going to be as “nice” as she was. Otherwise, I may have
jumped from the frying pan to the fire.
There had been six women with grownup daughters at my
former place and each of them was determined to make me
her son-in-law. I don’t blame them. Did I tell you before
that I am handsome? Check this out: I’m 6ft tall, ebony-
complexioned (like my late mum), with a pointed nose, a
natural cleft in my chin, even white teeth, a killer smile and
a voice to die for. Seriously, I sing and play the guitar and
I’ve seen people cry and empty their purses when I perform.
I was a track and field athlete during my school days and
even though I don’t compete any more and won’t bare my
abs in public, I still look fairly okay in that department. Oh,
and you might wanna know, my name is Ikem, short for
Ikemefuna, but everyone calls me Ebony.
So as I said, the ladies had good reason to vie for my
attention. At first, it was amusing and I ate their food and
slept with the girls who stole into my room at odd hours.
But I had no plans for getting married yet. (I’m just 29 for
crying out loud!) When they started borrowing money they
couldn’t pay back and pressuring me to contribute to school
fees and family emergencies, I calculated that the cost of
their “gifts” had risen beyond what I cared to pay.
So I started bringing girls home. The hint was taken and the
battles began. These women and their offspring, who
formerly lived like cats and dogs, banded together to deal
with me. They beat up two of the girls who came to visit
me, called the police to arrest me several times on spurious
charges (like smoking Indian hemp in the compound, which
I swear is the preoccupation of their sons, not me), set my
motorcycle ablaze by “accident” and spread word in the
neighbourhood that I was a 419er* (because my hustle is
online with my laptop).
The last straw was when my mum died and I bought a car
shortly after. They said I’d used her for rituals. I decided to
move before they kill me and to go where I can be a loner
and continue my hustle in peace. I hope to use my car as
backup for taxi business if the slow pace of things online
worsens. I’m continuing my investments through numerous
accounts in several schemes but I’m seriously planning having my own scheme. I will call it Consolidated and
Aggregated Windfall Platform. Three months of that and I’ll
be set for life.
This is no time for distractions. I will hit the big time or
die trying. Yeah, yeah, you may say that’s not original.
Well, what you don’t know is that guys like me make a
good living out of copying and fine-tuning other people’s
ideas.


continue reading via the link below

http://edithohaja.com/my-beautiful-neighbour-1-short-story/

A critic once described a book to be topsy-turvy.

¡. Comment on the general implication of this judgement.

¡¡. Articulate the possible consequences of this judgement.

This question left many students clueless. What would be your response to such question?

Nice piece of art sir. You are truly good. I've been following you since 'Day One', but then, won't you finish this story up??
You keep on posting short episodes, and with a frequency, am sure you have the story somewhere already written up. Am not saying you shouldnt cut your story into episodes but baba, they are too short. Instead, make them long, atleast let some maximum satisfaction be derived. Thanks.