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Chapter 2

I didn’t find her that day. I didn’t even find her the next day; I kept going to that corner every day to relieve myself with the hope of catching her pass by. There was even a time I ridiculously wished my trousers’ zip would wear out again; there, I had decided that if it would take a zip to wear out for me to catch a sight of her then I would gladly take the risk. But my zip didn’t wear out again and I didn’t find her there again.

I saw her a week later when I was having my lunch in the school restaurant. She walked in like the queen of England and ordered for her food. I had just taken only two spoonfuls of my own rice but on seeing her, my belly became full, even too full to take one more morsel. It was a miracle, because I was very much aware of how hungry I had been prior the lady’s sensational arrival. I had felt I was hungry enough to devour King Kong and ask for more, but this lady’s sudden presence had fed me with all the food I need, two spoonfuls of rice. The girl was Miracle incarnated; everything about her was miraculous. Her first miracle was in unzipping my trousers, and her second was filling my stomach with only two spoonfuls of rice. Even the Christ required five other loaves with his two fish to feed the multitude.

After ordering her meal, she retired to the corner of the restaurant to have a nice cuisine. I quickly left where I was sitting to join her. The lady was simply gorgeous. And she recognized me as soon as I took my sitting before her.

“Hello zip guy,” she beamed. “How was your pair of trousers? I hope you didn’t wet yourself that day?”

I laughed. At a time, I didn’t know what reply to reward such hilarious comment, but I was able to say, “I managed not to embarrass myself that afternoon. All thanks to you.”

She looked puzzled, “All thanks to me? How do you mean?”

“You spoke to my zip. I’m here to thank you for that day.”

She waved away my appreciation, saying, “There wasn’t anything miraculous about that; I only told you what I usually do in such situations. I try to tackle every challenge with calm mind.”

“It works wonders. Anyway, my name is Kanu.” I said, extending my hand towards her for a shake, apparently expecting her to tell me her name too.

Instead of telling me her name, she carried another puzzled look and said, “Kanu? As in the footballer?”

I smiled, “No, not the footballer. I wish I were though, but I’ve got little talent in sports.”

“My name is Jumai. Nice knowing you, Kanu.” She grabbed my hand and pumped it up and down.

Well, it began from the restaurant. I managed to collect her number and nature took it to the next level. To cut a long tale short, we became very honest with each other; I told her I liked her and she confessed liking me too. As simple as that. Thank goodness, she didn’t make me face the strain of trying to convince her into liking me in return; or making me experience the torture most women enjoy inflicting on admirers on the make-them-sweat-a-little notion.

We literally worshipped each other; and within days we were having a melding of the hearts. She could study my face and know what I was thinking; she knew my darkest secrets, she knew things about me that I can never even tell you the reader, and she never loved me any less. But I shouldn’t have met Jumai, we shouldn’t have fallen in love with each other. Because the end of this love, this affection is too tragic to endure. It wasn’t heartbreak, if that is what you are thinking, but it was something far worse. I still blame myself; I know that there is no other woman on this surface of the earth that can quite be like Jumai again, not ever.

I didn’t know that the affection Jumai and I shared within each other was becoming the envy of most men in the campus. Some were finding it extremely hard to believe that nerd such as me would be liked by such beautiful girl. I am neither bad nor good looking, and there were thousands of other guys in the campus Jumai could have desired but she wanted me. Even using love portion on her wouldn’t have worked so perfectly. I always asked myself what she saw in me to make her love me so much. I wasn’t rich, I wasn’t even that intelligent, and I am definitely not that handsome. I guess beauty is truly in the eyes of the beholder. And Jumai was my first taste of puppy love.

Things started to fall apart one particular Wednesday afternoon; I was in the classroom attending the lecture of one of those GNS 101s when I looked out the window and saw Jumai waiting for me. She had finished her own lecture and was now here waiting for me. I could not help noticing how radiant she looked; Jumai really looked like an angel, like one of those few ladies beautiful both in and out. She looked so innocent and lovely that I considered myself the luckiest nerd to ever live. I could not concentrate in the lectures anymore after sighting her. And I found myself bolting out of the class to meet her as soon as the lecturer dropped his chalk, my action much to the envy of most of the female classmates who hadn’t cared if I even existed prior my relationship with the most beautiful Jumai. I thought as I walked out of the class that they could go and have sexual intercourses with themselves.

We went to the restaurant to dine before we decided to head to our own personal romantic spot; a section of the university close to the river. Here, only very few people inhabited. We were there holding hands and sharing our experiences when a young man of about twenty-seven years old came. And as soon as Jumai saw him, she told us to leave immediately. I wondered what made her give this sudden decision to depart from our love corner; I knew it was something in relation with that strange guy. About a trillion reasons struggled in my mind. When we were soon out of the guy’s sight, I asked her:

"Who was that fellow?"

"Who? You mean the guy who intruded in our romance?"

I nodded.

"Don't mind the guy. He's a nuisance. He has always been stalking me."

"Why is he stalking you?"

"He wants to date me, and I've told him countless of times that I'm not interested in him. He just won't give up. He's such a loser!"

"I don't blame him much. You're a sight to behold. I'm the luckiest man in the world to have you."

"Don't be naughty, Kan." That's Jumai, she rarely pronounced my full name. She said, "I'm luckier. I can never love any other man again. Loving you is the sweetest thing that has ever happened to me."

"Stop flattering me, Jumai."

"I wish I were."

She had barely said that when a hand suddenly grabbed her from behind us. Turning around, I saw the strange man. He was pulling Jumai roughly.

"Didn't you see me there?" He was asking her as he tried to drag her.

"Leave me!" She was trying to fight herself free of him, but the man held her tightly.

"What do you want from me? Let me go!"

I could not just stand there doing nothing. I couldn't allow this thug to take my Jumai with him. I had to interfere.

"Young man, what do you want with her?" I stepped towards them.

The stranger looked at me like he was just noticing me for the first time. "Who the devil are you?" He asked me rudely.

I knew his types; he was just one of the common nuisances in the campus. I calmly answered him, "I'm the boyfriend of the girl you're holding." Then I asked back, "Who the hell are you?"

My question shocked him. Maybe he didn't expect that I would answer him back. Hell, he didn't even believe that I would reply him as rudely as he had done. He must have considered himself God. He must have thought that I would slink away at the sight of him, like a dog with its tail between its hind legs. I'm not that kind of person; I'm a nerd – granted, but I'm not afraid of anybody. I've never been. Not since I've been able to take care of myself after my parents' untimely demise. Masked men had broken into our home, shot my parents point-blank in the head and left. They didn't take anything. They only came to kill. Why they left me alive is beyond me. I'm lucky not to have had any sibling. The events of that terrible night had happened two years prior, when I was only seventeen years old. I've been taking care of myself since that moment; struggling, hustling, fighting to keep ends together. My struggles scaled me though secondary school. It had brought me here to this school; the passion to become a chemical engineer burned furiously within me. There was no room for fear of another human like me; it was something I couldn't afford. It's a luxury I can't ever allow myself to enjoy. Fear itself isn't luxury; it's a plague. If you allow it to dwell in you, it will eat into your core; like a cancer, it will make a shadow of you out of you yet.

"What did you just say?" The strange man asked me again. He apparently did not want to believe his ears. I had to help him out again.

"I said who the hell are you to come out here and harass the lady I'm with?" He needed a good cleaning of his ear-wax.

The next thing he did was attack me, but I had already envisaged his move. He was a lousy boxer. He threw a wide aim in the bid to hit me on the side of the face. I dodged it easily; his move was too slow for my liking. With the punch he threw, I could have rendered him unconscious in an instant, but I wasn't going to do that. In trying to attack me, he had let loose of his own defense. I found an opening on his neck and gave him a vicious slap on the throat; it was quick and precise. For a moment, he could not breathe at the impact, and when he finally caught his breath, he grunted out loud, not much unlike how a pig with a boil would grunt.

Blinded with anger, he rushed at me, entirely forgetting about Jumai. But I was ten times more calculated than he was. His anger had robbed him of any little rationality he might have had left in his skull. I waited for him to reach me before I drew him forward by his extended hand as I put one of my legs before him. He tripped and lost his stamina. I watched in fascination as he took a little bite of the ground beneath. I doubt if he'd had his lunch that afternoon.

Maybe his fall had not only bruised his body but also had scraped his ego. He slowly got up and dusted his pieces of rags some other thugs of his type might call fashion. When he looked at me, his eyes were burning with anger, but he didn't attempt to attack me anymore. He had known better. I was a formidable adversary.

"You will regret this, I promise you. You will regret ever laying your hands on Pain." With this statement, he turned and walked away. Of course, Pain had to be pained; he had been inflicted a little dose of his own soubriquet.

When I turned to face Jumai, she was looking very worried. She was shivering with fear, almost weeping.

"Don't worry, Jumai. The nuisance won't bother you again."

She stared at me with a more worried look and said, "I'm not worried about me...I'm worried about you."

I stared at her, confused, "How do you mean?"

"Kanu, we're in trouble. Pain is a vicious cultist."

Olalekank:
Complete book, is part 2 in it?

Nope.

hardeycute:
How do I credit my account?

By loading recharge card or through your ATM card.

hardeycute:
Meanwhile, can you please post the link to download

You can download the full story from here

Chapter 1

My name is Kanu and I am a bad person. As I scribble these lines, I have a gun beside me and in the kitchen is the person who was sent to kill me. I know that my last day on earth may come anytime soon and I am absolutely ready to fight to the death when that moment arrives. But right now, within the few breathing opportunities I’ve still got, I must write down to anyone who cares to read what made me become the fugitive I am today. I wish I had any other choice. These things I write are strictly confidential and must only be made public after my corpse has been discovered or there is no trace of my existence. I hope the bearer of this note will do justice to my esteem by typing and posting it out for the world to read and know what made me do all I did. I sincerely hope the readers understand and not put too much blames on my actions.

I was still only nineteen years old when I experienced the wickedness of man. I was one of those the senior students of University of Lagos always refer to as Jambites. Of course, I was a new student of the school studying Chemistry. By the end of the first semester, my course-mates had already tagged me a regular nerd, because I wear contact lenses and sit alone most times. I wonder why they always consider studying weird; isn’t that why you’re in school in the first place? And I still fail to see what is wrong when you suddenly decide to mind your own business. I don’t find fun in meddling in other people’s affairs and gossiping all day long when I have better ventures on which to channel my interest.

However, I believe I should just give a little description of my physical self, but there is no description to give. Just close your eyes and imagine an average-height, light-complexioned guy who wears spectacles and go everywhere with massive Chemistry textbooks. I’m sure the imagery will not be too hard to come by. I’m just one of those regular guys you pass by on the streets without even giving a first glance, let alone the second. But as the saying goes, every pot has a cover. As weird as people who used to know me might view me, I still had a girl who saw in me something far better off than what even I can imagine. Maybe she thought I was going to become a scientist that would cure a kind of viral disease that has been claiming lives for many years, or she believed that I was worthy enough to protect her against the world, I can only speculate. She loved me even more than I love myself. And how I met her was not even romantic in the least. I was having a full bladder when I was in the library but I was too reluctant to rise up and relieve myself, determined to finish that titration techniques I was reading. By the time I finished this topic, my bladder was threatening to break at the seams; I dashed off the library, with the speed I was moving I wasn’t sure if it was my legs carrying me. But the toilet was too far away from me, there was no way I could reach there without my water breaking, as if I was a pregnant woman whose baby was coming.

I couldn’t risk going to the toilet, I had to find an alternative. I went to the corner of the Faculty of Arts and made to release the tap, but I was having problem releasing this pipe from the reservoir behind my jeans trousers; my trousers zip had found it the perfect time to wear out. All efforts I made to unzip were unyielding; I began to panic, sweating from exhaustion, pain and fear. I was grunting and trying desperately to ride this prodigal zip down, all without any effect, and the knob of the tap was about to turn itself. I became really, really scared; right there, I knew that nothing could ever scare me as I was scared by my lower apparel’s stubbornness. I dreaded two things; one – that I would end up soiling my own trousers with my own urine, I tried not to imagine what those people who had always considered me weird think of me if they saw me approaching with my own trousers wet from penal excretion; two – that I might spend the rest of my own life trapped in one single pair of trousers if the zip still refused to give ways, unless kind people find it incumbent to scissors the material off my body.

I was still jumping with desperation and praying to the zip as if it were a god of some kind when I heard some chuckles come from behind me. I opened my eyes wide, afraid to look behind me with the fear that I would see one of those my course-mates standing there; I can’t be more embarrassed in my entire life again. I immediately stopped jumping but my legs still remained in the >< shape and my left hand was grabbing my crotch tightly. I was in an impossible situation; I dare not remove my left hand lest I become morally annihilated by my own action. I summoned enough courage and turned to see who was mocking me; it was not any of my classmates. It was a girl I had never seen before. The only thing I noticed in her was her the way she was looking at me, as if I were a wounded dog in the wake of a Man Diesel truck. Although she was still chuckling, her eyes were full of pity; a very strange combination, I thought. How can you be mocking someone and still pity the person? It doesn’t make sense. It is like laughing at and expressing condolences to someone who found himself sitting on the floor when his chair was pulled back at the moment he was about to sit. Your condolence wouldn’t assure him that you wouldn’t laugh again if he found himself in the same unfortunate fate. And this was how I was feeling at the lady’s chuckles. I was both embarrassed and offended. I was about to tell her to place her tender lips on my posterior and kiss it repeatedly when she said:

“Take a deep breath and try the zip again.” And with these words, she walked away, still chuckling though.

I couldn’t make any sense of this statement; it was downright ridiculous. How could one naughty girl tell me to retry what I had been doing about a hundred times without result? I had already resigned that I was going to urinate on myself, the worst people would do was boo at me and laugh behind my back; things of which I was not already unfamiliar. The pain within my groin was stinging me so much that it was getting unbearable, and with the resolve that it was better to have a burst ego than a burst bladder, I was ready to release my crotch from the hand grabbing it. But surprisingly, I found my right hand trying the zip for the last time, and alas, the crazy zip went down smoothly as if a new one had been replaced. I was more than surprised, but I hadn’t the time to dwell on my amazement. I speedily released my pecker from its confinement and emptied its content. I admit, a few drops fell in my underwear but nothing conspicuous resulted from that. The soothing feeling as this excretion was made could only be termed a sheer miracle.

After relieving myself, I was still fiddling with putting my trousers right when I came out of my corner for the angel, but she was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was really an angel that had only come to save me from my dilemma. But I remembered that the young lady was holding some books with her. The angel was a student of the school. I had to find her!

I only wish I had continued minding my own business and not found her.

You can download the full story from here

KANU: THE JOURNAL OF A ROGUE

LARRY SUN

Kanu is a simple nerd whose major ambition is to graduate from the University of Lagos as a Chemical Engineer. But everything changes when cultists tried to kill him for falling in love.

Now Kanu becomes the nightmare of every member of the notorious cult group named Scarecrow. As he fights through the terrible world of brutality, blades and bullets, Kanu discovers another deadly cult group named Southpaw.

After learning about the legendary rivalry between these brutal cult groups, he must have to kill his way through the multitude of Crows and Paws to get to his mortal enemy: Pain.

But nothing is ever as it seems.

(They tried to kill him. Now they are going to pay!)

THE END OF BOOK ONE: BLACK


'BOOK TWO: MARIA' COMING SOON.

Thank you, guys, for the ride so far.

cheers,

LSD

MediaPapi:
Hello Centino. This is not a wild goose chase.

We read 225 Katakata Street, among other posts from shewrites, Kayo80, souloho19, Larrysun, and Misswrite.

But we did not find what we're looking for.

We enjoyed the uniqueness of the characters of 225 Katakata Street, but did not think there was enough to persuade people to tune in every week.

Can you come up with an outrageously funny series centered around 2-3 characters (and can hold an audience's attention)? If so, we'd love to work with you.


P.S Have you seen "Trailer park boys" or "Always sunny in Philadelphia"? The characters are always getting into crazy situations/adventures.

How many episodes do you need in general?

rukidanty:
nice update and thanks for keeping to your word.. we appreciate your good work larrysun.. please when are we expecting the next update?

Friday.

TYOKSON:
well done sir. Please when will your next update be?

Either tomorrow or on Tuesday.

I'm interested in the freelance.

EkopSparoAyara:
Please this is Larrysun's thread and not Youngzubi's own... Let's desist from derailing it...
Like I said before, I spoke with Larrysun this afternoon and he told me he has been busy with a project... He assured me he will update as soon as he can.. I adviced him to come online and at least explain this to his readers...

Thanks for your call, boss. I'm sorry I didn't know you were the one at first. Thanks you so much. God bless you.

Youngzubi:
But, if you are voting for the best writer for the month August — which larrysun didn't update — then nobody should be voted cos they'all lack what it takes to be recognized as a writer.

The time when good writers graced here is long gone. Larrysun is the last man standing; but still no writer — since the inception of this forum— comes close to that genius





did u say that

that's not well spoken bro


dont under rate another mans effort when praising another,larrysun is a great writer"good"

some studied what it takes to write a good story,while some have it naturally in them

as for me,i got inspired by other writers,
on my quest to bring forth something different,original and part of us i started sex nah food which i write in PIDGIN English


larrysun is a good writer
that doesn't make every other writer here in nairaland useless just like ur comment above insinuate


what captivates and gets u inspired another man can scroll over it and passby

it takes great effort,time and thinking to put down an episode of a story that thousands of viewers would come,read,and still come back for another drop


nobody is the greatest we can only get better,only God is the greatest bro

time when nairaland have great writers has gone.....thats not true brotherly


the literature section as of now have great super brain writers that could put down a script that would take the nigerian movie industry to another level


Theblessedman centino souloho19,super brain guys

this guys are kings mehn!!,they can write your next life story my man


so appreciate others we can only live to get better!


some people live their life crossing lines...while some live their life drawing lines,my brother we'er only getting better



no need to talk about myself because as i dey here eh! i never write jamb sef,just wrote waec last year

thats the reality,i nor fit lie u,so dont compare me with larrysun he might be old enough to be my father!!!!!!

Lol! I'm not old enough to be your father. I'm just learning the craft like you, brother. God bless you.

Good evening, guys. How have you been? I have been very busy with freelance job. That is what has really been putting food on my table. Please don't blame me too much (covers face). This work (Black Maria: Book One) is 95% done. I will be dropping the updates very soon, for Let The Guns Speak is coming up immediately after. I don't want to keep you guys waiting like this, that is why I took my time to finish this one. This one is Action. Those who have read Kanu: The Journal of a Rogue may relate, but believe me, the actions in Kanu are not even close to Let The Guns Speak.

But let's conclude Black Maria first. Thanks for your patience with me. I hate myself for being so inconsistent. Phew! It's been almost a month since I last updated.

SARZ2:
happy birthdayhappy birthdayhappy birthday

Thanks a lot.

sheba222:
hapi bday dear,as u celebrate ur day joy,goodhealth,wisdom,increase shall b ur portion. more ink to ur pen.hapi bbbbbbdayyyyy

Thanks dear.