₦airaland Forum

ayamalexander77:
How can a normal human being quote one episode??
Most of this people should be running errands for their parent instead of coming here to fustrate me in particular......

pablobellins:
is sense that expensive? Even if u cnt afford, cnt u borrow?

Tolezy001:
To tear you slap dey hungry me.

skubido:
most you quote all the update,, can't you click reply and comment rather than quoting all the update..

Anigreat:




any day you try quoting everything again, i will deal with you.

LarrySun:
******************************************************************

Midas Hospital was located at the suburb of Apapa Wharf. It was a private hospital, of course, but was established strictly for charity. People who could not afford the huge medical bill;s in other private hospitals usually had to pay a lot less to get treated in Midas. Because it was still relatively new, the structure was new. The nurses were still devoted to their jobs and sympathetic to the patient’s cause. Everyone did his job well. Patients were quickly attended to. The owner of the hospital was an uneducated Muslim with a kind heart. He did according to the Islamic doctrine that stresses the importance of charity. He built the hospital, fully equipped it and employed doctors and nurses. In the first two years, there was free medical service to every patient. Anyone who went there got treated without having to pay anything. The prayers of the saved patients reflected on the life of the Muslim, for he continued to grow in health and wealth. God blessed him abundantly. The man was a clear case-study of the maxim: ‘Givers never lack.’ And he really didn’t lack anything good throughout his short life. When he died two years after the establishment of the hospital, the whole residents of the community were shocked. His death had been mysterious. He had slept in the night but had refused to wake up the following morning. The whole community attended his burial to pay their last respect amidst tears. A great man had gone, and they knew that the facilities they had been enjoying would soon end; the paradise was slowly fading away.

But the free medical service continued for another six months. The man’s family and the Muslim communities continued to fund the hospital bills until it was clear that they could not meet up anymore. The next thing was either to shut down the hospital or sell it out to another rich private individual. But there was no rich man willing to do what the original owner had done. Those who had shown interest in buying it only wanted to purchase it for their own further financial gains. Even the hospital workers were already threatening to quit if their salaries were not paid. The residents, however, begged the family not to sell out the hospital. It was a dilemma for the family of the deceased philanthropist. They knew the dead man would not like it if they sold the hospital. This hospital was his singular legacy, and it would be unfair towards him if it was sold out to someone else. They must find a way to continue managing the hospital. The sick were looking up to them to get healed. Finally, after various deliberations, it was agreed that the patient would have to pay only a token to get treated. Finally, after various deliberations, it was agreed that the patient would have to pay only a token for treatment. They were required to pay so that the management of the hospital would be able to pay the salaries of the hospital workers. What patients of Midas paid for their treatments was over seventy percent cheaper than what was being paid in other private hospitals. The community leaders and other officials had thought of changing the hospital name to that of the owner. But the deceased’s family had informed them that the man had left strict instructions, before his untimely death, that the name must not be changed for any reason.

Peter entered the hospital with the policemen on either sides of him. He was carrying the little girl in his arms. Two nurses rushed to relieve him of the child as soon as he stepped into the reception. The girl was immediately placed on a bed in a ward. Neither of the two policemen could pay for the girl’s treatment. On a normal circumstance, doctors are bound by law to treat emergency patients brought in by the police without having to request for payment. In this case, however, the girl brought in was no longer an emergency patient thanks to Peter’s quick administration of CPR. Besides, the girl wasn’t brought in by the police; the men in black only served as escorts. In general, nobody really cared about ethics in Nigeria. And so it was Peter who eventually paid for the hospital bills. He used part of the money he stole to pay for the treatment.

The news about the little girl’s accident had reached the ears of her parents. Those who witnessed all what sufficed thereafter informed them that their child had been taken to Midas. They had come rushing just within the hour. Peter felt that he was the cause of the tragedy. If he had not stolen, policemen would not have chased after him and he would not have caused a motorcyclist to lose control and hit an innocent child. He had brought anguish to the family because of his own selfishness. He blamed himself for everything that happened. In the bid to redeem himself, he gave the rest of the money to the girl’s mother.

The policemen didn’t know when Peter escaped. They thought he was still the girl’s, but he had passed them like he had done the first time. He got away with it this time around, for, as was his usual way, he had changed into one of the other sleeping patients’ clothes, wrapped a bandage around his head, found a crutch and limped out of the building.

They were still keeping watch when the Inspector and the robbed man came in barely ten minutes after Black had left.

“Where is the thief?” the Inspector roared.

“Who? The man?”

“Where is he?”

The policemen saw the short man and knew they had been right all along. Now the silly thief would pay for all the insults he threw at them. The reality was a pleasure to the two officers. There was no way the thief was ever getting out of this one. They were ready to make his life a living hell. Thank goodness they had volunteered to follow or the thief would have escaped by now.

“He’s in Ward 32,” one of them replied the Inspector. They followed as the superior man tried to locate the right ward. It would be quite interesting to see how the Inspector would deal with the thief. The man had anger issues and he might beat the sanity out of the thief before they took him to the station. Well, they were in a hospital. If the thief was beaten unconscious, they would just ask the doctors to revive him.

The Inspector barged into the ward with the two policemen, the short man, three nurses and a male doctor in his wake. The medical practitioners were trying to calm piqued man down. It was unacceptable to shout or be violent in a hospital. To their dismay, the ward contained only the little girl and her parents.

“Where is the thief?” The Inspector demanded.

“What thief?” asked the girl’s father.

“The youg black man who brought her in,” one of the policemen enlightened.

“Oh, the Good Samaritan,” said the mother, “He left a while ago. He’s a very kind man. May God bless him.”

“What!” the police officers could not believe their ears.

“Daddy, my leg is itching me,” the little girl said.

“Okay, my child,” the man reached for his daughters leg, “Where exactly is itching you, daughter?”

“Inside my socks.”

He tried to scratch her socks and felt something in it. He reached in and found the small black bag.

“What’s this?” he said, extracting the bag.

“That’s my ring bag!” exclaimed the short man.

“Your ring bag?” the Inspector did not understand what was going on.

“It’s the bag that contains my gold rings.”

“But this one is empty,” said the father of the little girl.

“What!”

“It’s empty,” he repeated. He turned the bag upside down and shook it to affirm what he said.

“That’s his signature,” the Inspector commented, seeming quite impressed.

“Signature?” the confused policemen asked.

“Each time Peter Black robs, he leaves black fabric behind. This isn’t any different.”

“You mean the thief is Peter Black? The same Peter Black?”

“Yes,” replied the Inspector, “The notorious robber has escaped our grasp.”

They all heard a sudden thud behind them. The short fat man had fainted.