₦airaland Forum

LarrySun:
I won't be able to update tonight. I'm so sorry. See you tomorrow. Good night.

LarrySun:
VI

Peter, the son of the late Ade Black, noticed something strange about owning a car. Besides the fact that one could cover any distance as wished, one’s status in the society would be elevated. People who never care about you will suddenly begin to show you respect. Peter wished he had driven a car to the market-square in Port-Harcourt when he was begging a man to give him some money to buy some food for his dying mother. But of course, that was impossible; besides, he was too young to drive a car and they were too wretched to afford a car tyre. The car his father had before the unfortunate incident had been claimed by Chief Salami. Peter knew that his moment of revenge was getting closer. He was now older and more capable than the helpless ten-year-old the mean man had ordered his execution. He owed his life to those two killers; they had disobeyed their master’s order and had let him go. They were the ones who had given him another shot at life and he had been trying to live up to that life ever since. Although the men had warned him never to return, Black wasn’t planning on staying away forever. For ten years, he had kept himself out of the wicked man’s path, but the time to face the bastard squarely was fast approaching. He would make the man pay for everything he did. Peter knew his face had totally changed from the scrawny little boy he once was. Surely, the man would not recognize him. In short, why would he? This man thought he was dead; and Peter doubted that the thugs were still working for him. He would have employed some new sets of thugs, but that wasn’t Peter’s business anyway. As far as he was concerned, the man could surround himself with a battalion of soldiers – he would not be stopped.

Girls had been swooning over Peter since the time he attained puberty. They had always fancied being his girlfriend even though he had never really cared about them. But now that he owned a car, the interests showered on him quadrupled. What is it about women seeing men in cars? He wondered. Some girls will still trip if they see you on a bicycle, let alone inside a car, as if they were born with tyre tubes instead of umbilical cords. Just volunteer to give them a lift in your car and they will reach immediately for the front seat and sit majestically as if they have made it in life. Then they will begin to look at pedestrians as unfortunate fellows. They are ready to give themselves freely to you if they know you own a car. Owning a car was not only a turn-on for some ladies, it was also, by all means, an aphrodisiac. And Peter had had his own share of this strange phenomenon. Ladies were literally begging him to date them but he had learnt to be careful around Lagos girls; a lot of them were desperate beyond average. Besides, this was the year 1990, a decade before the New Millennium – a period when modesty, honour and morality will become things of history.

Of all things, Peter used his car for the goodness of humanity most times; he would stop his car and help out anyone he found stranded. He would help an old woman and her load and deposit her right at her doorstep. He would equally help an old man to his destination. One day, he had caused a long traffic queue when he stopped his car, got out and helped a blind lady cross the street. Motorists had screamed and threw curses at him but Peter was not deterred. He took his time to assist the anopsiac safely to the other side of the road. To hell with all the screaming morons. He had quietly returned to his car and had driven off without any qualm whatsoever. He derived utmost pleasure in assisting the helpless. And he never did any favour with an expectation of compensation.

Still, Peter Black was far from being a saint. He might even have proven to be the devil’s favourite. Even with his car, he did a lot of bad things. He would pick up a call girl and rob her without her knowledge. He had fun with his car. He had adventures. Yet, he never slept with any of the prostitutes he picked up, or the Lagos big girls who showered him with affection. In matters pertaining to sex, Peter Black was principled; since his ordeals with Rhoda Gold, Peter had had little interest in sex, except during his days in the hospital when he had been unusually Hot. Of course, he could blame such sensation on the drugs administered to him. He had learn his lessons with Rhoda and he would be damned if he allowed himself to fall into such a trap again – such an emotional blackmail.

Possessed by a terrible spirit, Peter robbed a jewelry shop. For the first time in his life, he robbed with an indication of violence. He bought some stocking masks from a clotheshop, got a plastic gun from a toy-shop, sprayed the gun black and drove back to the jewelry shop. Peter Black had a rare weakness for jewelries; it was like a passion for him to own ornaments. And he could spot an original object as easily as he could spot a fake. No matter how polished the fake was to look like an original, Peter would know. It was like a personal gift to him. Peter Black might be a master deceiver but he scarcely deceived. He had grown so mature that he could easily detect the bullshit in People and things a mile away, except if he pretended ignorance.

He parked his car a safe distance away and trekked back towards the jewelry store. The time on his wristwatch revealed 7:42pm. It was already dark. At this time, most shops selling expensive goods would have closed for the day. The man must be a greedy person to still remain open. Besides, what was the sense in keeping late nights when there was not even a customer patronizing you? Peter had surveyed the shop when he drove past and had noticed that it contained only the seller.

He wore his mask when he got close to the entrance, drew out his painted plastic gun and barged into the store. The mask wasn’t worn to hide his face from security camera for there was no camera to hide from. This was Nigeria 1990, the only camera that could be found was the one on photo machines. Peter only hid his face so that the man would not come across him in future and point him out among the crowd that he was a thief and should be arrested. He was fully covered now and there wasn’t any body mark to give him off.

“Lie down on the ground right now!” he barked as he stepped into the store.

The man stared at him curiously as if Peter was an insect that had voluntarily stepped into the spider’s nest. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Lie down I say!” Peter flashed his fake gun and thickened his voice.

The man saw the gun and laid down flat on the ground. “Please don’t kill me,” he pleaded.

Peter almost laughed out at the silliness of the situation. Couldn’t the man see that he was using a toy-gun? He marvelled at how most people’s senses could be clouded by fear. He could ask the man to kiss his boot and such command would be instantly obeyed.

He began to fill his pockets with the original jewelries, taking his time to sort out the fake. He robbed the store with careful precision. He took jewelries worth a huge sum of money, most of them necklaces and rings – gold, silver, ruby, with pendants of different other precious stones. He filled all his pockets with jewelries before leaving the store. The victim didn’t make a sound for fear of being shot in the back of the head for being disobedient.

Before finally walking out, he ordered the man to sing both stanzas of the national anthem before getting up.

Arise o’ compatriots…

He heard the man begin as he walked out. Contrary to that first line, the man would not be arising until he finished the anthems. He smiled as he returned to his car to empty the treasure if Peter was among the Israelites during the time of Moses, he would have stolen the golden calf and sold it back to the idol worshippers.

He drove away whistling a merry tune. By being ultimately deceptive, by presenting himself as someone he wasn’t, by striking the fear of the devil into the shopkeeper’s heart – Peter had easily robbed another person.

He deposited the jewelries in a box as soon as he got home. He later went to take his shower before going to bed.

Peter Black had no use for the jewelries; they were useless to him. He just loved having them – owning them. Tomorrow, he might decide to give them out if he was tired of keeping them.