Edwardhead:
I was reading this story last year before Nairaland crashed down, let me tell you where I dey, the scene wey d guy go wedding for church and ...
mention me when u reach dat side


fans of EBIAG

Oh! You mean that NL crash I didn't recover from till today?

Alright then, I'll mention u as u said.

SofiaAmrozia:
I'm back nd urs is the first story i checked. Guy u are amazing. Keep up thegood work and you'll go places. Just believe in yourself and that is probably all you'll need.

Thanks for this awesome motivation. Cheers!

“Yes,” whispered Vulnerability, yawning out of sleep.
“I’m coming over.” Hope got into a wide gash beneath the Ropes of Limitation to enter his brother’s room.
“Hope, what’s it you’re doing? Crossing your limit?”
“Ssh!” sounded Hope. Vulnerability kept silent. “Vulne, what are you going to do about it now?”
“About what?” asked Vulnerability with a sense of innocency.
“Will you remain in Dilapidation forever? Will you now allow Father Sage’s dream pass away without fulfillment? Don’t you know what the multiplication of the implication of your staying behind in this place would result into? Will you stay here until these four tall walls fall on you, or until the mosquitoes here suck you dry? Won’t you—?” Hope ceased speaking when he discovered that Vulnerability had burst into tears. “Brother!” exclaimed Hope, clinching to his brother and shaking him.
“Hope,” his brother replied, sniffing. “It’s no wish of mine to remain here dishing out my blood to mosquitoes and bedbugs. But I’m scared of mum and uncle.” As Vulnerability made an end to his speech, he burst into tears again, but Hope nipped it in the bud when he said, “C’mon Vulne, clear your tears and fears and wear you dear smiles once more, because the way to the Island of Greatness is quite easy.” Eagerly, Vulnerability sat up to listen to Hope, but then Hope coughed.
“Come on, tell me what you mean by that.”
“Those days, when I sneaked into Knowledge School of Thought, I was taught that the River of Achievement is the easiest of all rivers to scale through.”
“But why’s it that none has passed through it from here?”
“Fear!” replied Hope at once. “Every Happy-Go-Lucker refuses to make a move towards this river because of Fear. The few who had tried crossing it had ended up giving up to oppositions from foes’ kicking toes and warring hoes.” Hope’s parable was incomprehensible to Vulnerability, who dimmed his eyes and frowned to gesture that he wasn’t getting Hope’s expatiation.
“It seems you are not getting my speech,” Hope perceived.
“Yes. Is there anyone who have tried getting to the island but was kicked and killed with toes and hoes?”
“Not really,” replied Hope, smiling. “In Knowledge School of Thought, kicking toe is the term we use for describing whoever is against the idea of crossing the River of Achievement and warring hoe for the dwellers of the Hurt huts.”
“Hmm!” sounded Vulnerability with delight. “Tell me more about the Knowledge School of Thought. Can’t wait to hear more!”
“There’s too much to say about KSOT,” Hope said as he cleared his throat. “Well—I’ll begin from the teachers over there. Mr. Experience was the best teacher in the Knowledge School of Thought. I’ve often heard this fact confirmed by Father Sage, and by Mr. Principle the principal of KSOT also whenever we were queuing up on a line called the Line of Reasoning on the assembly ground. Back then, Mr. Experience was teaching in the Level of Attainment and the Level of Tolerance in the Thinking Faculty in the Knowledge School of Thought.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes—so serious,” Hope replied frankly. “Father Sage would always say, Experience is the best teacher—not only the best in Knowledge School of Thought, but the best in the whole of Happy-Go-Lucky.”
“But during the last Happy-Go-Lucky Teachers’ Award Day, Mr. Inexperience in the Do-nothing School of Thought was the one awarded the best teacher, not your said Mr. Experience. Can you please explain this? In fact, Mr. Experience’s name did not appear in the long list.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Vulne,” Hope admitted. “I believe you know the abhorrence harboured by the Panel of Partial Judges towards the Knowledge School of Thought. So you can’t expect a teacher from there to be recognized.”
“That’s true!” exclaimed Vulnerability, pushing his left index finger down the dimple on his right puffy cheek to index his acceptance of Hope’s assertion. In ten seconds, four cheeks were set into conspicuous smiles, but Vulnerability’s own two were soon filled up with questions to pour out. Without hesitating, Vulnerability asked, “Why is Mr. Experience regarded the best in that school of yours? What are his teachings like?”
“He’s got pragmatic approach towards things, believing that critical practical and nothing more, is the key to becoming a good student. Mr. Experience would always tell us stories about his own past, asking us to pick up and kick away.” Hope paused to clap, having noticed a huge flying mosquito whose transparent potbelly was appearing blood red.
“Pick up what?” asked Vulnerability in confusion. Hope replied, “His past good deeds we pick up, wrong ones we kick away.”
“Pick or kick? Wonderful!” laughed Vulnerability delightfully. “So tell me now—what are his past deeds?”
“It’s a long story,” Hope grimaced as though not pleased with the idea of sharing the story. “Took a whole school term for him to share—but I’ll summarize it up.”
“Mr. Experience was born to the family of Mr. and Mrs. Evil who were residing in the Hurt huts. He was born just a day after Mr. Evil his father died. Immediately after his birth, his mother and uncle threw him out of the Hurt huts through the Widow’s window for no known reason. Father Sage found him hurt beside the Hurt and shedding tears. He picked him up and took him away to cater for him in the Dotage Cottage where he was christened Experience.”
Experience dwelt with Father Sage until he was six when Mr. Torment his uncle and Mrs. Evil his mother came forcefully to claim him again. Father Sage readily released the poor boy to them to avoid strife.
Experience experienced a great deal of torment from Torment his uncle who did always ensure to clothe him with the Garment of Torment lined with thorns in the inside as a punitive measure for the puny boy’s several attempts of escaping the Hurt huts to live in the Island of Greatness. Experience became a scapegoat, for he was not able to escape being tied down with ropes like a goat.
For years Experience kept on receiving tortures from all in the Hurt huts. Luckily, he escaped their evil treats eventually and spent most of his lifetime sleeping and hanging around in the Abandoned Abode where it was believed that he was influenced negatively by the lifestyle of two brothers—Fugitive and Vagabond. However, Experience didn’t stay forever in the Abandoned Abode, strengthening himself eventually to race to the River of Achievement in order to get to the Island of Greatness. Though Experience saw the River of Achievement with his eyes, he didn’t get into it...
“Why didn’t Mr. Experience get into the River of Achievement?” Vulnerability demanded hastily, being engulfed in the story.
“Because Despair the son of Discouragement, Uncle Doubt and mum’s father discouraged him from leaping into it and led him to the Den of Despair instead,” Hope declared sorrowfully.
“Gush!” screamed Vulnerability annoyingly. “He shouldn’t have listened to our granny—he shouldn’t have—”
“Our granny’s words were too heavy for Mr. Experience—that’s why,” Hope responded. “As you can see in mum’s character, our lineage from mum’s angle seems to be possessing great strength of character—I mean there’s a gene of evil genius passed from generation to generation—from Discouragement to Despair...and from Despair to Doubt.”
“Gene? Evil genius? I’m confused here!” hollered Vulnerability, nonplussed.
“You’d be confused because you’ve never stepped on the first step of the Knowledge School of Thought where terms like gene, genius and lot more were being used. All I’m trying to say is, there’s an evil ability in mum’s lineage which you can’t perceive visually, since it’s lying deep inside the blood. Father Discouragement passed it on to Despair his son at birth and Father Despair passed it to Uncle Doubt and Mum—at birth too.”
“What’s this gene?” Vulnerability wanted to know.
“Negativity.” Hope replied. “Always wanting to act in the opposite towards good things—advising people in the contrary,” he expatiated and silence descended on them. Vulnerability’s voice pervaded the silence as he asked, “I’ve never seen you acting negative towards good things—the Island of Greatness. Are you not from mum’s lineage too? Then you’d be having that Gene of Negativity as well.”
“Well...maybe because I was christened by Father Sage,” Hope replied. “Perhaps the Hopefulness I was named has lamed and tamed that famed evil gene in me.”
“How did you get all these knowledge?”
“By paying attention in Knowledge School of Thought.”
“But why am I always scared—scared of everything, yet you said mum’s lineage possesses strong strength of character?” Vulnerability asked with heaviness of heart.
“Well—I think you’ve got more of dad’s gene in you,” explained Hope without premeditating. “Dad’s lineage feels inferior to others due to its poor background—Mr. Poverty dad’s grandfather and Mr. Austerity dad’s father were the two most cowed people in the history of Happy-Go-Lucky, choosing to leave houses behind to live with horses—an unstable life in a stable—feeding with Mr. Evil’s black horses in the Danger manger. This gene of fear was passed from Poverty to Austerity and from Austerity to Mediocrity our dad.”
Vulnerability got bored of the discussion.
“Hey, Hope, let’s talk about Mr. Experience. Did you say Mr. Experience told you this story of himself by himself?”
“Yes of course!”
“Then he must have learnt his lesson. Why can’t he now venture into this adventure again and get into the Island of Greatness by crossing the River Achievement?”
“He discovered this too late,” Hope replied sorrowfully. “Mr. Experience said that River Achievement can best be crossed by agile youths—not fragile adults—in whose bodies lie the vigour to swim through a wide river. So he thought it best to teach young ones how to make it through the river at their early stage of life instead of whiling it away while they are still tender and agile.”
“Hmm!” Vulnerability heaved. “With what I’ve heard you say, Hope, Experience is indeed the best teacher.”
“You get it!” Hope corroborated and then kept silent for silence to speak. Vulnerability interrupted it with a howl.
“Hope, let’s get going immediately!” Vulnerability was tugging at Hope’s right wrist.
“To where?” asked Hope, not having a clue.
“River Achievement of course!” replied Vulnerability boldly as he forcefully pushed up the Ropes of Limitation. Without further ado the two set out. They found Standaloof outside the house, dancing on a spot.
“Ta, ta!” she sounded playfully when she sighted her brothers.
“Ah!” screamed Vulnerability. “I’m doomed! Mum asked me to carry her inside when she was leaving for market this morning.” Hurriedly, Vulnerability bore her into her room and returned to Hope in a matter of seconds. Then the journey began.

CHAPTER FIVE
THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF HOPE

Hope could not hold up his head straight in the streets anymore because the streets’ children were strictly making life unbearable for him. They were not relenting in poking fun at him all the time. Slander jnr. even beat him up without a reason, Mr. Slander his father, being the proprietor of the Slander School of Thought. The boy was the only son of his father, therefore they had pampered him overly.
“Hope, the son of Mr. and Mrs. Liar,” Slander jnr. slandered Hope when he was walking down the street. “Your father and mother and brother bothered us that he’ll get into the Island of Greatness yesterday, but till today the River of Achievement is still as empty as it used to be. And I’m sure that forever it shall remain that way.” Slander jnr. laughed heartily but Hope nipped his laughter in the bud when he replied, “It shall not remain empty forever because I’ll surely enter in someday.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” laughed Slander. “Someday? Maybe your rotten skeleton will be dumped in there after your funeral. Ha! Ha! Ha!” Amidst the laughter, Slander walked hurriedly to Hope and twisted his arms mercilessly. He threw him at the floor eventually.
“I’ll show you how my dad and mum and aunts and uncles welcome new students into the hostel called Hostility in my father’s school.” At that instance, the boy kicked Hope severely with his hard Sandal of Scandal and allowed him to wallow in the sand until he had swallowed some of it.
Vulnerability did not escape torture as well, for he was accosted by Badmouth and Loudmouth when he was walking towards the Flirts’ flats where uncle Doubt dwelled. Since Vulnerability must need to pass before the Slander School of Thought before he could get there, he knew that trouble was imminent. Unfortunately, the school had just closed for the day and the day students were returning home when Vulnerability reached the school vicinity.
“Vulne, come here!” cried Badmouth and the boy obeyed immediately, jittering like the plucked strings of a guitar.
“I—I’m h—here,” Vulnerability confessed cowardly.
“Are we blind not to know that you’re here?” Loudmouth screamed at him, then Badmouth said, “Vulne, one day your brother will bother your father to go farther to murder your mother.” Instantly, Vulnerability began to weep as though the bad speech from Badmouth’s lips was a whip that was whipping his hips. To prevent being made a laughingstock, Vulnerability quickly began to rub out his tears. But another sentence from Loudmouth sentenced his action to death.
“Vulne, far from you lies the ability to get to the Island of Greatness!” Loudmouth jibed aloud. “Your effort in blowing the Trumpet of Imagination with agility few days ago is in futility today and shall remain in futility till infinity.”
“And dilapidated walls shall remain to fence your abode forever,” Badmouth barged in, someone who had been successively emerging the best student overall in the Slander School of Thought for years. “Loudmouth, let’s begin to torture the future out of this vulture,” added Badmouth and immediately they began to thump Vulnerability’s body.
Hope was shocked beyond measure when he saw Vulnerability shedding tears in the little shed behind the house.
“What are these tears for?” Hope asked inquisitively.
“They b—beat m—me up,” Vulnerability sniffed and stiffened like a baby as he tried to stifle the tears.
“Who?” demanded Hope. He was clearing his brother’s unwept tears off his face. The tears were unusually cold. “Tell me who beat you,” Hope asked again, looking into his cold palm.
“Badmouth and Loudmouth attending the Slander School of Thought. They made fun of me and…it pained me the most. They said they’ll torture the future out of me.”
“They can’t torture the future out of you,” Hope assured. “Slander jnr. also beat me up today too, but I had to bear it,” added Hope, helping to wipe the tears off his brother’s moist face. Just when Vulnerability’s teary face was getting dry, he let them get wet again as his eyes gave way for the release of the lachrymal gland beneath. Hope was shocked.
“Vulne, what again? Haven’t I pacified you enough?”
“You’ve t—tried my brother, b-but—but…”
“But what?”
“Badmouth said you’ll bother my father to go farther to murder my mother,” confessed Vulnerability with deep concern, but was surprised at Hope’s indifference. “Hope, are you not saying anything?”
“Well—I guess Badmouth was only trying to do his homework,” Hope replied thoughtfully. “What d’you mean?” asked Vulnerability.
“You see, in the Slander School of Thought, the more you slander people, the more your score gets greater. I’m sure what Badmouth said was a product of the lessons he was taught today in his School of Thought. It’s a kind of homework, I guess.”
“Hmm!” Vulnerability said. He was now grinning. “Hope, let’s go inside to continue our talks so mum wouldn’t come close to hear us.” Without further ado, the two got into the house through a wide crack. They had not entered in for long when Hope said, “Vulne, you’ve disappointed me. And ultimately, you’ve disappointed Father Sage who predicted seeing you in the Island of Greatness.”
“I was scared,” Vulnerability said remorsefully. His greasy face was creased with sorrow. “I couldn’t stand with mum to withstand her commanding tone, her tons of stony words, her blistering glance of lance and the pains of the rains of the abuses I would get if I disregarded her instructions.”
“You don’t need to be limited by mum,” said Hope. “If you’d performed everything the Sage wanted you do, I’m sure by now Mr. Goodluck had been here constructing the Bridge of Influence that will link here to there.”
“Is that so?” Vulnerability said with a beaming face and Hope gestured in the affirmative. “If that’s true, Hope, then I shall never give up on the island,” Vulnerability vowed with enormous strength of character, but his audacity bowed out for cowardice when they suddenly caught a glimpse of Limitation in the room.
“Vulne!” screamed Limitation. “What have I just heard you say?”
“I—em—er—uh, I—I—”Vulnerability stuttered uneasily.
“Don’t you know that our walls are special ones?” Limitation said critically. “They have ears and mouths—dilapidated walls—they tell me everything you’ve both discussed.”
“Walls don’t have ears!” Hope faulted. “You definitely heard our voices through the cracks on the walls.”
“Shut up!” Limitation yelled as she loosely whacked the jug before her and reached for Hope’s jugular. Then she turned to Vulnerability and said, “Vulne, it’s best to give up on the Island of Greatness today to avoid borrowing the Arrow of Sorrow tomorrow. Be content with the content of the dilapidated garden eggs in this dilapidated garden and forfeit the feat you are not fit for—the feat of getting to the island.”
“Yes! Yes! I’ve given up on the island already before Hope raised my hope just now. Mum—I shall now permanently forget about getting to that island,” Vulnerability promised passionately.
“That’s a very good decision my son.” Limitation hugged him. She soon left Vulnerability and came to Hope to speak soft words into his head. “Hopeless,” she addressed as she caressed his nape as though she cared for him. “There’s no place like home. Your home is Dilapidation and it will be best for you to remain in it. As you know, there are enough rooms here which your future wife can indwell with you. Stay alive here with your mother, brother, sister, together with your father, rather than taking the risk of travelling to a never-existing island where those aspiring to get to have ceased to exist now. Therefore, my son, it’s safe for you to dwell among the Mediocre family in Dilapidation dwelling place in Average Street in Happy-Go-Lucky town forever. Have you heard?” she concluded with a soft tone, expectantly.
“I have heard,” Hope replied sombrely and his mother smiled mildly. “But I’ve not accepted,” he added, sending to flight the light smiles on her cheeks. In a flash, Limitation’s white eyes had turned red and her grinning face green as she held Hope by the neck again, shoved him terribly and threw him at the floor. Then she went low, pinning him down with her heavy arms. Hope howled incessantly and struggled like a camel overburdened with loads as he tried to free himself from Limitation’s trammel. The more he struggled the lesser his strength was becoming. Her attention was soon diverted when Mediocrity rushed in with Standaloof, both of them wearing happy faces.
“Why are your dimples so deep into your cheeks this way?” she asked irately.
“It’s good news, Lim!” Mediocrity replied. “Standaloof can now stand on her own! She just did that now!” Without further ado, Mediocrity set her down and she stood on her feet unaided, to the shock of Hope and Vulnerability. Seeing his sister now standing, Hope rushed to her, crouched before her and pulled out a hand to beckon on her to come closer, but Limitation did not reckon with his idea, therefore she yelled in annoyance, “Stop! Stop! Stop!”
“But why?” asked Hope dauntlessly.
“It’s enough for Standaloof to stand only. As such, she’ll be living to fulfill the meaning of her name—Standaloof, not Walkaloof. Don’t try to turn my daughter into a toddler. I mean don’t teach her how to walk.”
“Hmm!” Mediocrity sighed. “What a wonderful wife I’ve got here! You have foresight!” He was staring at his wife with admiration.
“You’re right, Med. I foresaw the danger in allowing Standaloof know how to walk, so I shall forestall it. She’ll walk aloof aloft the pink river and then sink suddenly, drinking a whole lot of the messy water to death before getting to the brink.” Mediocrity nodded to her statement. However, Hope’s face remained stony. In anger, Limitation said, “Hope is the black horse in this house. He’s trying each second to influence Vulne’s personal interest. But I shall now put a demarcation between them.”
“But how’s that possible?” asked Mediocrity with interest. “Remember, their rooms are linked to each other by the numberless cracks on their wall. So, they’ll always communicate through them.” Limitation smiled and replied, “Sweet Med, trust me. I’m Limitation, therefore trust me to set a limit.”
Before sunset, Limitation had set a demarcation. She had tied some elongated ropes across the cracks in the wall separating her sons’ rooms.
“Don’t cross these ropes to the other side,” Limitation commanded. Little Hope could hardly wait for his mother’s exit before poking his head into his brother’s room.
“Vulne,” Hope called silently. He soon discovered that his brother was fast asleep, yet not covered with the blanket. “Vulne,” Hope called again, but with a louder tone.

“I’ll prove you wrong,” Doubt responded as he made haste to unloose his weighty bag. He unstrapped the bag and produced a big flat stone from it, on whose surface was inscribed a quote. “Lim, have this.”
“What for?” she demanded.
“Read the quote on it,” instructed Doubt, but his sister made a fleeting frown followed by an affected smile.
“Brother, don’t mock me,” Limitation said softly, with a feeling of embarrassment.
“Oh Limitation, how could I forget so soon that you’ve got a limitation, and your limitation is that you can’t read or write, right?” Doubt had just remembered his sister’s challenge. “Since you can’t read, why not deliver it to one of your sons to read it on your behalf? It’ll help Hope to keep shut.”
Limitation’s eyeballs roamed their sockets as she gave her mind to the thought of whom the stone should be given. Hope’s face beamed with audacity while Vulnerability’s own were left to beam out timidity, but Standaloof’s were of nonchalance. At last, Limitation got rid of the burden in her heart and the one on her hands too as she said “Vulne, have this” and handed the stone over to him. “Read it for the whole house.”
“I can’t!” Vulnerability said slowly. “I can’t read or—write.”
“What!” Limitation yelled. “What d’you mean?”
“Em, er, uh, we weren’t taught in my school of thought how to read or write, because our proprietor, Mr. Simpleton, believes that the idea of combining reading skills and writing skills with oral ability is extraneous. Therefore, we only do all our tests, exams and assignments orally.” Vulnerability returned the flat stone.
“Which school’s that?” demanded Doubt, doubting Vulnerability’s testimony, having stared long into those timid eyeballs he carried.
“The Simpleminded School of Thought,” Vulnerability answered.
“It’s outright nonsense!” Doubt remarked angrily. “In the school I shall have here I won’t adopt such nonsensical principle. Instead, I’ll teach my students to read and write. Then I shall have the credit to myself that Doubt’s School of Thought is the best. According to the latest ranking, the Do-nothing School of Thought is the best, and then the Fools’ School of Thought follows…Slander School of Thought, Simpleminded School of Thought and so on. Knowledge School of Thought was the worst in Happy-Go-Lucky since its inception until it was relegated.”
“But what’s it they teach in the Do-nothing School of Thought?” Mediocrity asked curiously.
“Nothing other than nothing,” Doubt replied at once. “Students get to classes and sit around round tables for eight hours without uttering a word. Many of them remain behind for extramural lessons, which would usually span two hours, speechless still, chins in hands, hands on laps. Funny enough, the school is the costliest in this town. The year I sent Idleness my only son there I almost could not afford two triangular meals daily.”
“Maybe that’s where Standaloof will attend too—later,” said Limitation elatedly. Doubt replied, laughing, “I doubt if you can afford the fee. Simpleminded simple fee you couldn’t afford let alone Do-nothing’s naughty fee. So—who’s reading this for us, because I shan’t read my quote myself?” he added.
“Hope can read quite well,” Vulnerability confessed. “I saw him reading a book secretly those days in the Simpleminded School of Thought before he was caught and sent out of class by his teacher then.”
“Hope, can you?” Doubt asked with an iota of doubt. Hope gave a nod in the affirmative and all eyes eyed his eyes with high expectations.
“But how come you could read and write?” Limitation asked curiously. Hope uttered, “Those days while I was attending SMSOT, I do sneak out of school to sneak into another school called KSOT to attend their classes.”
“What’s this SMSOT-KSOT stuff?” yelled Hope’s parents impatiently.
Hope smiled and said, “That was the technique we employed in KSOT to shorten long statements. SMSOT simply represents Simpleminded School of Thought while KSOT means—”
“Knowledge School of Thought, right?” Doubt interrupted eagerly. Hope replied, “Yes.”
“What!” Mediocrity cried. “Do you mean you sneaked into Mr. Knowledge’s School without his knowledge? You should be punished for this. Don’t you know that stolen knowledge is bad? You must return to Mr. Knowledge in the Valley of Ignorance where he’s now abiding to return to him all the knowledge you wrongly acquired in his school.”
Hope smiled and said, “But we were taught there that knowledge is indelible.”
“Enough of your talks father and son. This stone is too heavy for me to bear a second more. Hope, have it and read into our ears now,” said Limitation, utilizing a tone of command, which was ignored by little Hope. To save time, Doubt collected the flat stone from his sister and read it himself:
Doubt all things except Doubt’s words
For if you doubt Doubt you’ll die quick
The Mediocres were overjoyed save Hope and the aloof Standaloof who had been forced to lie on her mother’s lap, which she slapped hard in fury for being hindered from crawling on the floor. Limitation had to hold her tight on those laps since she was nursing the bizarre fear that she would crawl long miles into the River of Achievement someday to sink in it.
“You’ve heard my quote, which is just a quarter of the iota of the quota I have contributed to the good of this good family this moment. Hang it on your walls gently, but don’t wait until the weight of my quote break down your walls before you act upon it. Only allow it to break down the walls of your heart and give you heartache whenever you quote it,” Doubt instructed meditatively. “In conclusion, let Vulne not risk his life at all, else he’ll die briskly. Instead, let him remain and quote my quote daily, because he has no agility to swim through a stream let alone the ability to make it through a river. Have my words.”
“Thank you, my wonderful brother,” said Limitation clasping her brother’s arms after clapping for him, but Mr. Doubt said quickly, wanting to buy time, “Bye-bye to see you by and by.” Mr. and Mrs. Mediocrity rose to accompany him. Standaloof was sitting on her father’s shoulder.
Vulnerability looked sad, fearing the slander he would get from past mates in whose ears he had sounded his trumpet few days back. He had visualized the return of his mother to turn to him and shout, Vulne, I guess you’ve heard what your uncle said—that you shouldn’t make a move to leave this town to the Island of Greatness.
I know already, mother, and I shall listen to my uncle, Doubt, Vulnerability had thought to respond. Limitation soon returned to the house with her husband and daughter, and as expected, she warned the children, quoting Doubt’s quote now hung on the wall, which she had committed to heart already.
“Vulne, take your uncle’s advice and remain all your lives in Dilapidation dwelling place where—”
“I’ve already made up my mind to stay here mum,” intruded Vulnerability. “No going back.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN~~~~

My mother's case was heard in court. She was pronounced guilty, despite all her pleas. I didn't hear her but my aunt made effort to interprete every bit of her speech to me:

"Mrs John Hannah, can you tell this court what you were doing in Olabode's room at exactly 2:30am on the fifteenth of July of this year, 2000?" the plaintiff said.

"I--I was sleeping in my room with my daughter when she woke me up to say that she had a dream."

"And what was the dream?" she asked.

"She said she saw a woman calling Bode's name. We were shocked so we rushed to his room to check his well-being. It was strange to us when we didn't find him in there."

"Mrs Hannah, we want you to cooperate with this court. Can you tell us why you scattered his room?"

"We were looking for him desperately."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because of the dream my daughter had. More so, I was the one responsible for his welfare; his mother isn't living with us in the house."

"Is that why you want to kill your step daughter?" the plaintiff challenged her. "Stepmothers like you are supposed to be put to death by hanging!"

When I saw my aunt's sign, I did what my mouth could do best--screaming. All heads turned around at me.

I saw their mouths moving. Two security men came close to me. My aunt obstructed them. She pleaded with them on my behalf. They understood her. She must have declared my status to them.

"My lord, this is a wicked woman," the plaintiff said, pointing at my mother. "She doesn't deserve to be living among human beings."

"Enough!" the judge shunned the plaintiff. "Are you the judge? Do you want to dictate judgment to me or what are you trying to say, Barrister Tinu?"

"I am very sorry my lord," she bowed her head in respect.

I gave them all some covetous look. How I wish I was the one having those wigs on my head; that woman, Toyosi, would no more be among human beings. She would be right behind bars for life.

I remembered the proverb my class teacher always told me those days in sign language; if a farmer doesn't catch a thief on time, the thief would catch the farmer. Such was the case here--Toyosi was the real criminal here, not my mother.

John was called out to say what he knew about it all. He spoke and my aunt interpreted. We were sitting at the left hand corner of the hall, at the back. Toyosi was leering at us from time to time. Those wicked eyes, I just wished they fell off their sockets.

John grabbed the big bible with a hand. He began to pour his swears on it. I was saying amen inside me because I knew he would tell some lies with his confession.

"I am John Adegbile by name, husband of Hannah Omorodion. This woman is a wicked soul. Right from the time that she knew I have a second child from another woman, she has been trying to kill her son. I don't know why she is as jealous as this. She also has her own child, so I don't see the reason for her jealousy."

"Did you marry the second woman in a ceremonial way or how?" the plaintiff asked.

"Em--not really. It was a mistake; she got pregnant for me and I have to take the child from her. This woman Hannah accepted the child in good faith then, but now she wanted to get rid of him by all means."

My eyes were filled with tears as my father spoke. If I had pebbles I would hail them at him; cobbles would be better, or even a big rock. What a wicked father!

"This is not their first time of attempting to kill my son," John said in a critical manner. His veins had wrinkled his forehead, giving him the outlook of a caricature. His broken teeth was made the cynosure of my eyes. His toothgums looked exactly like a thick black 'evostic' gum.

"You don't mean it!" the plaintiff put up a serious face. "So tell us something about the past murder attempt."

"She has once sent her daughter, Rose to kill my innocent Bode on his bed while having a nap. Rose held the knife over his neck, about to rip off his neck when my innocent boy thumped up from sleep."

Everyone in the court opened his mouth wide at his confession. I believed many had already begun to pass judgment on us. We were just two, myself and my mum, but we have many judges already.

My aunt could no more interprete for me at the back of the court hall. She broke into tears.

"That was not all, my lords," my father said. "She sent her daughter the second time to hang my son in the air. Her daughter gripped my son at the neck and raised him high up until his legs couldn't make contact with the floor anymore. Bode my son almost died that time, and since then he had lost his health. Now my son had to live with inhalers in his pockets every day of his..." Father had broken into tears.

"Do you have anything more to say, Mr John?" they asked my father.

"Yes sir," he said, bobbing his head like an agama lizard. "Please can this court help me ask my wife the reason why she was not beside me on bed that night, because for the past twelve years of our marriage now, we have always been sleeping together at night on the same bed? Can this court also help me ask her what she was doing with a juju calabash I saw with her?"

"Can you hear that, Mrs Hannah? What were you doing with a calabash at night? Why were you not on bed beside your husband that night? Please answer us because the time is not on our side!"

Mother held the top of the dock with her hands. She knew there was nothing to say to get anyone convinced. She knew she was going to be declared guilty in the end.

"Madam, talk!" they shouted at her. "Or is he lying against you?"

"It is true," she said amidst tears, nodding her head.

"So madam, do you now accept that you are guilty?"

"No," she said. "I am innocent."

"Keep shut, woman!" the jury shunned her. "You may not speak anymore woman. The truth is established already. Who else has something to say?"

When I saw the interpretation, I raised my hand as well as my aunt too. We both had some things to say.

"Only one person among you shall speak," the judge said. My aunt asked me to go. I began to move towards the front. My aunt followed me. The judge spoke some words in anger, but I didn't hear him. He struck a hammer against his desk. I wonder whether he was a carpenter. He must have been enraged that my aunt was following me. He needed just one person and not two.

Every mouth in the court was wide agape at our effrontery and defiance. I wonder what was wrong with them all. Two security men in police uniform accosted us. My aunt spoke something into their ears. They passed the message to the judge. I knew what the message was--they had just notified him that I was deaf mute and my aunt was only there with me to do the interpretation.

A policeman pointed at a bible to me. It was lying fallow on a dusty pulpitlike woodwork. I picked it up and dropped it back to give me enough allowance to express myself in sign language. Then I began to do the sign.

I saw the hilarious expression on everybody's face. They seemed to be screaming. My aunt later told me what they were saying;

We didn't ask you to do choreography for us

Is she conducting a music or what?

Is she insane?

It was their last expression that got me angry when my aunt was relaying them to me after.

After all I said to defend my mother that day, she ended jailed for two years with hard labour. I rolled on the floor and hit my head against the hard wood of the leg of a pew. Blackout!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

We remained in the house until 9am when my father returned with some police with Toyosi. They loosed my mother and replaced the rope on her hands with handcuffs.

I screamed. No one paid attention to me. John pushed me out of the way. My mother was led away despite all the gesticulation she was making.

Rachael my aunt came to time. She was shocked when she saw my mother on handcuffs. Her head gear toppled over and fell on the table in the sitting room. She put her hands on her head.

What was the count charge against mother? Who would let me know? My father began to point at my face. His face was coarse. He must have been shouting, going by his Adam apple which was bouncing up and down in his jugular.

My aunt held me by my right wrist and began to pull me out of the house. It was as if my father had instructed her to take me with her. I weep when I saw my mother being sandwiched into the police peacock van.

"What happened?" I asked my aunt.

"Let's get home first," she said.

As soon as we arrived Aunty Rachael's home, she changed her clothes and got prepared to go out.

"Where are you going aunty?"

"To the police station," she said.

"Aunty, what's my mummy's offence?" I asked.

"Wait for me to return," she said and began to hurry away.

I folded my arms. My eyes had seen too much already. To die is better than to live. If only I have my life in control I would rather have taken it.

Tears poured out of my eyes; maybe blood I didn't know. I wiped my tears with the back of my left hand. I felt lonely.

It was getting to 11am before my aunt returned.

"Welcome," I said in haste. "What about mum?"

"She's--she's there..." my aunt said and burst in tears. "Rose, tell me...tell me...what really happened?"

I narrated the whole event.

"It's your fault, Rose, yourself and your mother's fault. I--I told you Toyosi is dangerous, you didn't listen to me..."

Rachael patted me on the back. She told me exactly what the charge against my mother was.

"Rose, do you know what really happened? Your father charged your mother for attempted murder."

"What!" I screamed.

Rachael told the story to detail: Bode saw a woman sitting beside a herbalist and moving her hands over a calabash of water. He said that the woman he saw was your mother. His own image was inside the water they were looking at. Bode woke up and rushed to meet his father in fright.

"Hmm," I sighed with my hands when my aunt ended the story. "Aunty, that woman Bode saw is his own mother, not mine."

"But who in this world will believe that?" Rachael replied me. "It was your mother and yourself they heard your voices in the night calling Bode's name; when your mother made use of sign language to call Bode to death in the spiritual, the boy didn't respond because he is ignorant of the sign, so you resorted into calling his name in the physical!"

"Aunty!" I shouted in sign language. "Do you believe that?" I was in great shock. My mouth remained open wide as I expected a response from my aunt.

She burst into tears and arched her back. She grabbed me and folded me in her bossom. My head was right below her bony chin. Her long hair carressed my unclad shoulders. Her tears fell in drops and then in excess on my body. They were cold. She disentangled. I knew she was about to use the sign language--the British sign language:

"I don't believe every bit of their story, Rose, but no one else wouldn't believe it; indeed Bode had the dream because he fled to his daddy's bedside: your mummy wasn't beside your daddy at that dead of the night, where was she?"

"Em--em, she was beside me on my own bed," I said.

"And what were you both doing in Bode's room in the dead night? They said your mother wanted to kill me physically when he didn't die spiritually, that was why you were in his room. They said you didn't find him and then resorted into searching his room, perhaps he was hiding somewhere in the corner of the room--so you scattered his bed, his wardrobe and everything in there in desperation."

I sobbed. I didn't seem to see a way out of this.

"And lastly, your father said he found your mother carrying a calabash. Rose, what's that for?"

"We found it there," I said.

"Did you people do all these things at all? Why did you go scattering Bode's room?"

"It was true we were looking for Bode, just because of the dream I had; it was the same dream Bode claimed he saw, but it is a blatant lie that it was my mother who did the sign language in it; rather it is Bode's mother, Toyosi."

"Toyosi?" How? Why would she be calling her son's name?" she asked.

"Yes she's the one. She was asking me to tell her my name in sign language; I told her Bode's name instead, remembering that you have asked me not to tell her my name if she asked. Then she was calling her son's name in the dream unknowingly."

"Hmm. Now I understand, my aunty said."

We were silent for some minutes.

"So what next?" I asked.

"Your mother would be charged to court for attempted murder next week."

I screamed and fell to the floor.

Momoh put up a stern face as if he should ignite Yemi's burning cheek the more. Then he pulled him up by the collar and shouted, "You are a warder! You can set Deinde free for our sake!"

"I'll be doomed after!" Yemi managed to utter.

"Who cares?" Momoh hollered at his face. "Now listen Oga Yemi, you have five minutes to decide, else we'll blow you up, you as well as Bimbo and the other Yemi!"

Yemi was dazed on hearing that. How did he get to know his family? How on earth did he know that she was even called 'the other Yemi?'

With eyes looking punchy, Yemi beamed at Momoh as if he would zoom him with his eyes to magnify him far into an unimaginable ratio of image to object magnification in sciences. His heart resonated the fear his brain had generated by palpitating abnormally.

Gently, like a man fed up with life, he asked, "Do you know them?"

"If I don't, how would I have called them by their names?" Momoh said. There was silence for a little while.

Momoh turned his head away when Yemi was becoming slow at reacting. He shouted, "Gogo! Bring the phone here!"

The one who called himself Gabriel earlier rushed in with a telephone.

"Jaycee is online," Gogo cum Gabriel said and gave Momoh the phone. It was ringing.

Momoh passed the phone to Yemi and said, "Pick the call Mr man!"

"From whom?" Yemi asked. His hands were shaking. "He just boggled on like a patient undergoing a serious Parkinson's disease.

Yemi eventually picked the call and then, a voice shouted in agony from the other end:

"Yemi!"

"Yemi!" he replied. It was his wife.

"Yemi, they are here," said Yemi's wife in a cold voice now.

"They are here too," Yemi replied.

"They said they will kill us if you don't... do what they say," Yemi said, sobbing silently.

"Oh my God!" Yemi held his head. "I'm confused."

"Bimbo was..." Yemi's wife said, but her voice faded off at once. Seemed someone had taken the phone out of her grip. Yemi was scared. The incompleteness of the statement put him in a state of confusion.

A voice came up from the other end. It was a type of baritone voice which had been put out of order by the innate ability of marijuana.

"*Ogbeni, b'omo e soro!"
________________________________________
*Gentleman, speak with your child[/hr]

The voice sent cold fear into Yemi's spine. He feared that her 15-year old daughter had been ra*ped by the 'beasts' out there.

"Daddy!" Bimbo squeezed in.

"Bimbo!" Yemi spoke inquisitively. "What have they done to you?"

"Daddy! I'm dying here," Bimbo spoke with a voice so low, as if she had been laden with the burden of the whole earth.

"What? W-what did th-they do to you?" Yemi shivered as he asked.

"They...they beat me up like a thief," Bimbo burst into tears. "A gun is wounding my skull now!"

Yemi sniffed as his daughter said that. His ears were full. He couldn't stand it anymore. The thoughts began to flow now. Bimbo, Abimbola, her only daughter--the only sharp part of his cutlass, the apple of his eyes, now faced with a gun, or perhaps now having a gun on her face.

Yemi imagined the impression the hollow portion of the gun had made on his daughter's forehead, down into her suture joints around the skull. He could not even imagine how the other Yemi would feel over there, facing the horror of the error she didn't commit.

Now the reality had done on Yemi, and perhaps his wife too, that it is not everyone paraded as guilty in the nation of the blacks that is indeed guilty. What now is the assurance that Mr Aluko is guilty? Yemi cogitated.

A tap at the back of Yemi's head woke him to the consciousness of his environment again. He was sweating, yet there was a functioning air conditioning system in the large parlour where he was having his torture.

When the clock struck 8pm, Yemi's heart struck with strong hatred for his tormentors. If he had a machine gun, he would gun them all down and rush home to save his family, but here it was like an impossible mission, only possible to the well famed Commando in American films.

Subconsciously, Yemi had heard his wife say, "They won't leave our sides until you have done it!"

"Get him out quick daddy!" Bimbo pleaded, weeping on the phone.

It was the last Yemi heard of his family. The telephone had been taken away from them.

"So Yemi, you can decide not to get Deinde out if you wish," Momoh said.

"You'll kill my family?" Yemi asked in befuddlement. He was not even sure of what he was asking.

"Not only kill, Mr. Yemi," Momoh said without a minuscule feeling of compassion. "We shall r-a-p-e them," he spelt it out.

"That's it," said the well dressed man who had been keeping silent all the while. "Obey and live, disobey and die, you and your family."

Yemi's head began to issue sweat as if he was in an oven. It was as if the center of his head had cleaved into two to produce the liquid in high quantity like the Ikogosi water spring.

Yemi's mind went back to the halcyon days with his family--such good days which would now be smeared forever, he thought. Now he knew life was not always going to be a bed of roses. Now it is a nightmare, an everlasting nightmare that would not end in a jiff. The faces had set on his face once more, the terror, the grotesque, the fear, the horror, the agony, the perplexity, all heaped on his family members dramatically.

He broke into tears and sobbed.

Yemi received a death knell to his thought when the man removed his glasses, looking straight into Yemi's eyeballs. The man was not even in any way having any facial similarity to Aluko Peter contrary to Yemi's thought earlier.

"Who are you sir?" Yemi gathered much effrontery to ask the strange man.

"You will know me better, later," said the man, picking up his dark spectacles again, lifting it to his face to fix it there as it was before. The man also exposed his crew-cut hair when he uncovered it by removing the big cylinder on it, whose diameter wasn't enough to permit his big head go in further than a centimeter.

The man spoke in the accent of a well educated fellow. He had a cool face. The man seemed to be inconvenient with the smoke oozing out from Gabriel's cigarette stick, which was already almost getting to an unbearable length for the fingers.

The man coughed and pinched his nose close twice in succession to get the smoke away. When he couldn't bear it anymore, he voiced out his mind, saying, "Momoh, tell your man to get that smoke away!"

"Yes sir!" Michael yelled and began to rush towards Gabriel.

Yemi's mouth went wide agape. So, there was not any Michael in this issue. Afterall, his name is Momoh and not Michael. Or does Michael has its interpretation as Momoh? Yemi began to think again. Now he wondered what Gabriel would be, perhaps Ganiyu.

Gabriel rushed out of the room like an ape when Momoh had gestured to him to leave the room immediately. Now the man came near Momoh and touched his shoulder as he said, "Momoh, you have really done a great job here."

"We don't thank oneself," Momoh said in smiles in the Yoruba language. "I'm only doing what I can do."

"How do you even know his residence?"

"Oga, I said I'll do just that," Momoh grinned. "I trailed him daily and finally he took me to his house himself.

"You are a genius Momoh," the man said as he spanked Momoh happily.

Yemi gaped at Momoh and blood rushed into his face, turning it red. If only Yemi had the strength, he would have engaged Momoh in a fight--at least he hadn't discovered gun or any other weapon with any of them.

"What have I done for you?" Yemi hollered at Momoh in annoyance.

"Nothing," Momoh came close. "And that's why I've brought you here."

"Nothing? And you brought me here for nothing?" Yemi screamed. "What do you mean?"

"Can't you understand?" Momoh bent his back and lowered his face towards Yemi. "You've done nothing for me, but now I need you to do something for me--remember, I have done much for you--helped you out in the canteen, gave you a free ride home..."

"What's the essence?" Yemi cried.

"And even now Mr warder, I will give you a free ride to your workplace if only you can give us what we want," Momoh concluded.

"What?" Yemi bawled. Hearing his voice, one would take Yemi for the boss while his tormentors would be passed for his subordinates, since they were not speaking in a bossy manner--only Yemi's voice would have been heard outside if anyone was there.

"What do you want?" Yemi cried out once more when Momoh was slow at speaking.

"My meat," the other man replied instead with his usual cool voice which still had some latent tone that could command respect in it. "You have my meat in your pot," he spoke further.

He wasn't making any sense to Yemi who said, "Sir, please come out clear."

"Give me--Deinde," the man spoke in a rhythmic manner. "Deinde is my meat in your cooking pot. Mr Warder, Deinde is my meat."

Yemi felt his world somersaulting when he heard the demand. The elevation of the floor appeared higher than that of the ceiling to him as sweat buried his forehead. How could he? How could he possibly give Deinde to them without ruining his own life by so doing.

A drop of tears rolled over his face and sought everlasting solace in his open lips. His tongue was bitter instantly.

The man came close and became a tiger, pulling Yemi up by the collar of his shirt and yelling into his face:

"Give me Deinde--tonight!"

Uneasily, Yemi smirked in sangfroid and said, "Impossible!"

A thunderous back of hand slap landed on his face when the last two syllables of the polysyllabic words were just getting out of his mouth such that it made his speech sound like 'Imposable'.

Yemi held the cheek set ablaze by Momoh and groaned in pain. When he raised up his face again, he found himself face to face with a gun. It was directed at his forehead.

Yemi turned to water!

Emeka kon meet me again concerning that mata.

"Guy, you just dey make yanga eh," Emeka tok.

"Wetin I do you nah?"

"Me don play with that Titi head wella."

"Continue," I tok. "My hand no dey there again.

"Chiboy, why you dey fall my hand nah? The girl don dey ask for that 50k since two days ago, buh me just dey scope am."

"Na you sabi," I tok. "Nna mheen, me no dey for this and that again, you hear? The one wey all of una don cheat me don do."

Emeka just siddon kule ontop the mata. Hin no just wan give me allowance mey I take breath.

"Okay nah, tell me Wetin you want," I ask am at last.

Emeka clear throat kon sight wella tok say "Chiboy, e for good mey we teach that girl lesson nah. Mey we catch am give godogodo."

"Hmm, na true," I tok. "But wetin kon be the problem nah? Ride on, I free you."

"But we go need small money take do am."

"Wetin?" I look Emeka like say hin be boss me be actor.

"Na 3k we go need o, Chiboy and we go fit catch that girl collect big money from am."

"How? Wetin you wan use 3k do?"

Emeka don sabi say I don dey fall small small. No blame me, na my weak point be that. I too dey believe people too much. Na wetin make me go give one care taker money for one shop be that wey be say na fake. That time, when I wan kon pack enter the shop, I see say somebody don pack enter. Na soso fight we take settle am that year. In short na police kon quench the matter. Na after that time I kon rent the shop wey I dey now.

"Answer me nah? I say wetin we wan use 3k do?"

"You dey sleep?" Emeka tok. "You no here say we wan use am buy bulk sms?"

I don confuse again. Which one be bulk sms again now.

"Bulk sms abi wetin you call am Emeka? Shay na dat kine thing wey den send give me that year say I don win for the lacasera promo?"

Emeka laugh. Anytime wey I tok that lacasera thing, na so Emeka go dey shine hin teeth.

That year eeh, na #2,000 recharge card waka comot my hand because say I wan collect #500,000 wey den tok say I win. Chai! 419 boku for naija o.

"Bulk sms no be that kind thing joor. That one na because MTN go give people plenty free text messages na hin make dat kine thing boku that year," Emeka tok. "Me sef dupe many magas that time too nah! I make my cool money!"

I just dey look Emeka with vex. Na matter of thief wey wan catch thief now. So, Emeka sef dey inside that kine thing.

E be like say Emeka don see reaction inside my eyes na hin make am tok say, "But me don repent now sha!"

"Repent ke? You wey you still wan dupe me last week for that photo matter before I run enter Titi hand."

"Mey we forget that one, Chiboy," Emeka use calm voice change the tok. "So, as I dey yearn you, bulk sms na one package wey be say u fit use am send message make the thing enter person phone with any name wey you want."

"Azzz in!"

"Az in dat kind alert wey Intercontinental bank, abi wetin be there name now, dey send give you anytime wey you go withdraw for inside their account abi if money enter."

"So, wetin we go kon use am do to take catch Titi now?"

"You no grab? We go use am send Titi message say #50,000 don enter her Wema bank account nah! We go put Wema like say na dem send am."

I begin reason sense with Emeka. That kine thing go make sense die, buh me never still know how we wan take catch am o.

"So, how we wan kon take catch am now?" I ask.

"Simple!" Emeka tok. "We go just send the message like that kon catch am when hin wan withdraw am."

One problem kon show face inside our plan sha. Emeka tok say hin go need know Titi name gangan as she no put her name for the account number wey she send inside my facebook chat.

"Na Titilayo Adelanwa nah," I tok. "You no see am for facebook?"

"You dey believe that name?" Emeka tell me. "E fit even shock you say that girl fit be boy sef!"

I open my mouth. Emeka don confuse me again o. I begin reason with am sha.

"Yes! Yes!" I shout. "The account number wey she give me when I send 4k give am for subscription that time na one Olagoke Adeyemo I see inside."

"En-hen. Na guy name be that nah!" Emeka tok.

"Buh she tell me say no be her account number be that dat time sha," I tok.

"Bring am mey we correlate," Emeka tell me. I rush find the teller wey I take pay Titi that time. The account number na the same thing o!

"What?!" I shout. "So, Titi real name na Olagoke Adeyemo! Na wah for waya road o!"

"I tell you!" Emeka tok. "I tell you say this your Titi na original fake! Now we go catch am, just give me the 3k mey I take buy the bulksms."

I dey doubt say the bulk sms wey hin dey tok no suppose reach that amount. Now I don dey wise small small say mey I no dey rush things. People don show me nah, so na wiseness thing now.

"See, na #1,500 I get o," I clear am.

"E no fit reach anyway Chibuzor!" Emeka dey do strong head.

"Okay then, bye bye," I tok immediately. Me no dey for chere cambia.

Emeka just dey find way to take collect 3k. E tok say mey I call hin friend ask am say hin go tell me say na how much den dey sell am be that.

"E no concern me o," I just dey stubborn so tey Emeka tok say mey I bring the #1,500 first.

"You go balance me o," he tok.

"No problem now," I tok. "First go buy am come."

Me don dey wise now, abi wetin una think? If to say na before before, me go don pay am in full. Make Emeka no go put mind say I go give am chichi later, because me no get any chichi to give am again.

I spend plenty time for the pidgin tory kon say mey I enter another one. This time, the thread wey dey ontop patapata na that LET'S PLAY THIS WORD GAME CALLED LAST MAN STANDING

Mey I even enter there see the thing wey den dey do jare. As I reach there na hin I see wetin the guy dey tok. He tok say den dey find person wey go comment last. But your comment must begin with the last word wey previous person tok.

"Na me go comment last for sure," I smile for my 'title block' mind. Na so I kon begin find where I go post message. When I no see am, I vex drop the phone. When Biodun come back my shop na hin I ask am, "How I go fit comment nah?"

"E dey there nah!" Biodun tell me.

"I no see am," I show am.

"Ah! Oga, na like guest you take enter o. You never register?"

"Which one be guest again?" I confuse.

"Na so you go appear if you no register account for nairaland, oga Chiboy," he clear me.

"So how I go register nah?" I ask. Biodun show me how. "Hmm...Biodun, you too gbaski!"

'Na u o!" the guy wine me small.

Quick, quick, I don do the needful. E no hard me before I open account for Nairaland. Na wetin dey my mind that time be the way wey Titi take dupe me, so I use 'Magawealthy14' open my account. The last comment wey dey the thread tok say 'Today Is Friday!'

Quick, my head don run boot wetin I go tok wey go make me be the last man wey go stand. Oya now, I write Friday na dat wey get many xanxxanxnanx

I relax dey wait for who go fit try that kind jagajaga word wey I write. Na me be champion. Na me be last man standing. Quick I don go back flow dey read hin pidgin tory. But before I enter oga Flow tory sef, my finger don go do mistake click one kind long sermon like that wey one boy write; the boy name na Seun.

I don read am small before I no say no be Man Wey Dey Reason I dey o. This one na HOW TO PLACE AD ON TARGETED AREA I think say that Seun guy wan dupe Nairaland ni, so therefore I run click report, so mey I report the guy for Nairaland say make den be careful o, say I guy called Seun don open thread to take dey siphon people money enter corner o. Abi nah, I nor fit see truth mey I no talk nah.

Emeka come back tell me say mey I get ready to spend more money o.

"Wetin again?" I provoke. "One chi-chi no dey come out this pocket again!"

"Chibuzor nah! Just mey you spend the last money mey we take catch dat facebook girl as e dey hot, you kon dey show yourself abi?"

"This one no be matter of showing any sef, Emeka. Me no just get chi-chi to waste again. Period!" I vex.

Emeka no fit deceive me again. No be now wey my eyes don dey open enter inside internet world. Na ignorance wan kill me die before. No be here again, Chiboy don wise, olote, mey una carry waka enter corner.

Since last month November, na soso Chiboy Maga this, Maga that I dey here up and down street and I no who scatter that yarn, na Segun for sure. Now sense don boku my head, make nobody no think say hin go fit use my head again o.

I enter my dear literature thread again say mey I check that LAST MAN STANDING THING sef. Na like page two hundred and forty something that thing dey that time sef. Na one girl dey rain that time, her name na Babe2sure. She just dey all over the thread that time.

Wetin surprise me be say the 'xanxxanxnanx' wey I post that time no be the last word standing again. Den don dust am pass. How manage! I shock. Mey I look person wey comot me for position. Na one kind Damex333 name I see there o. Which kind thing? I run read wetin the guy post.

Xanxxanxnanx is not an English word, so let's waka pass

The thing pain me enter bone. The guy don push me comot for last guy standing kon still disgrace me. Walai I go revenge. Na ontop revenge mission I dey wey make me quote am dey vex for am. Instead make people begin console me na sosos abusw den dey open like bullet ontop my body:

Guy you blind
Didn't you read the rule?
Magawealthy14...smh for you
Na your name dey follow you...maga
Illiterate on thread
Waste of space
No blame the guy nah

Na the last quote wey den quote me catch my attention. At least one person don take side with me. Quick quick I don click 'like' for ontop hin comment.

"You get sense!" I tok for my mind kon refresh see say the guy never finish wetin hin wan tok:

No blame the guy nah. I know am personally, na garri hin don dey drink since last two weeks. Like seriously, people no dey read rule? Mtcheeeeeewwww! angry

"What?!" I shout. I don provoke pass elastic limit. Quick I don unlike am kon vex click 'report'. E be like say den don use that report do me sef.

I opt comot for nairaland patapata. Me no go come here again for life. Imagine how guys just serious ontop my matter dey run their mouths anyhow.

classiclee:
Bros come write jae

I don come

Hearing lots of lingoes, Henry’s ears were unable to convey meaningful words to his brain—all he heard were balderdash to him. Despite the fact that Henry had found himself in such a strange environment, he wasn’t excessively afraid, since the dean had earlier made it known to him where he was going—the Magic World.

Looking around, Henry saw fanlights, of extra-ordinary dimensions, appearing to be made of crystals, around the four corners of the large hall he had found himself in. He could see through those fanlights, though they were very far from him.

Not knowing where he was, he fixed his gaze on those in there, and each step they took amazed him; it was like everyone he saw moving was running. None was walking. Somebody fled past Henry. Henry was surprised at the enormous speed and the resultant sound produced by such swift motion. The way they fled was to him as the image on a TV screen when being fast-forwarded.

Tired of standing, he took a step, then another, but was shocked at the great distance himself had just covered with those two steps he had just taken.

Another person fled past him again, though with enormous speed, yet he was able to recognize who such was. The fleer was a great French inventor, whose stupendous contraption had evoked much argument in the Science World. They had criticized it for lack of sufficient scientific background. The said scientist never had formal education, yet was able to come out with such great invention. Seeing him, the dean’s first question came to his mind.

Henry concluded in his mind, “Great inventors possess magical power.” He was going to tell the dean that by the time they get back to his office. Henry turned back, aiming to catch up with the scientist, perhaps to ask him some few questions. He was soon side by side with him.

“Sir,” he called, “I’ve once seen you on TV.” The man’s muteness brought Henry to the realization of the fact that not every one in the world understood or communicate in English language.

“I’m sorry you’re a Frenchman,” said Henry in an apologetic tone, turning instantly to go. Just then the man spoke in English, “Young man, who the hell are you?”

“I’m Henry—Henry White.”

“Oh, the Professor’s boy.” The man smiled.

“How d’you know me?” asked Henry in a puzzled manner.

“Check that out,” said the man as he ‘ran’ away.

Observing the celerity of his own paces, Henry detected that those in there were not actually running—but walking. Everything in Gyrus was happening at a great lick.

Walking aimlessly, looking for the dean, he began to see signposts on every aisle in the large auditorium, each narrating how to get to one place or the other. Intrigued by one of those signposts, Henry stopped abruptly and read: WELCOME TO GYRUS. EIGHTY KILOMETRES TO THE U.S. KEEP MOVING.

Henry knew at once that that was where he would belong, since he was a US citizen back in the world he had come from. Taking fast steps, he got there rapidly. He saw ahead of him a metallic cuboidal signboard of gargantuan dimension, suspended from a lofty height by nothing. Yet, many sat underneath, without the fear that it could fall on them.

At that juncture, Henry began to see names written on all the empty seats he did saw as he strode along. Each seat had flat object hinged on one arm of it such that the object could be flipped and used as a platform for placing something such as book if one was desiring to write something. Many were already seated.

Still battling with the thought of what to do somebody came rushing towards his direction. The speed was tremendous, much more than those he had witnessed since arriving the great hall. To avoid collision with the coming fellow of which Henry had felt would be fatal, having fiddled with the calculation of the resultant momentum of the figure in flight directly before him, Henry swerved to the right. Funny enough the figure stopped abruptly beside him. He was a young boy.

“Hello, may I help you?” asked the boy, whose neck was bent downward as if having some spinal cord problem.

“Yeah!” said Henry. “I’m trying to locate my seat.”

“Oh, you must be new here?”

“Yes.” Henry fixed his gaze firmly on the boy and identified him at once.

“Ted!” Henry yelled as he recognized him.

“Surprised!” said Ted, winking.

“Sure. What’re you doing here?”

“I should rather ask you that.”

Henry said, “This is where Professor Wilson brought me to.”
“He brought me here too, two years ago,” said Ted. “D’you know why?” Ted asked and Henry said, “No.”

“My passion for sport. He saw me doing badly in every sport I participated in. Then he told me I can make it if I join the magic.”

Henry revealed without being asked, “Mine, because of my result. He said I can do better.”

“He’s right. How on earth do you think I’ve got to know that you would be coming here today?”

Henry remembered instantly how Ted had said, “Henry, see you in the meeting this evening” back in the school, then he yelled, “Oh my goodness! How do you know?”

“He said it.”

“Who?” asked Henry inquisitively.

“The dean,” said Ted. “Before bringing anyone here you’ll inform the whole congregation, telling the name, age, status and everything you know about such a one—and the day such will be coming.”

As Ted ended his speech, Henry inferred that the French inventor he had met must have known who he was when the Professor was broadcasting it as Ted had said.

“Hmm!” Henry sounded. Then he asked, “Ted, it seems you’ve got the swiftest speed over here.”

“Why d’you say so?”

“The rate at which you got to me.”

“Oh,” said Ted laughing. “It’s because I was running—to meet you—every other person here was walking.”

“The riddle is solved, I’m glad. Glad seeing you here. I’m not going to feel lonely in here.”

“It’s true. Seeing Ken here on my first arrival made me glad too—then.”

“So,” said Henry. “Ken belongs here too!”

“Of course yes.”

Henry asked, “But, I’ve not seen the dean since arriving here. I don’t think he came with me.”

“You came together. You couldn’t have come here alone—ordinary person.”

“So where’s he?”

“Seated over there,” said Ted pointing, though Henry could still not see him. “All members land directly on their seats—new-comers are left to wander about in search of their seats themselves. That’s the situation we’ve got here.”

Ted looked around.

“Wow!” Everyone’s almost seated,” Ted yelled. His face looked worried instantly. Henry was going to ask him why, but Ted hurried him up to get his seat.

“Let’s go find your seat.”

As they scurried along, looking at every empty seat they came across, Ted spoke.

“We get information on whatever’s going on around the world over here. Many inventors get solutions to problems—here. Doctors, lawyers—even some pastors—get their powers from here too…just feel at home here Henry.”

“I’m doing that already—since I found you,” smiled Henry.

Ted said, “When you’re called upon to introduce yourself, you need not stand up or walk to the podium. There’s a screen right there that’s going to show you wherever you are, and every one will see you through it. Also, a fairly large mirror will be given to you when you get to your seat. Through it you can communicate with anyone you wish.”

“What part of the earth’s this?”

“We’re not on earth. We’re in Gyrus—a planet not discovered yet,” said Ted, with a note of sincerity.

“What if some men discover it while we’re in here, ain’t we going to be relayed over the satellite—for all eyes to see?”

“It’s impossible,” said Ted. “We’ve got some astronauts here with us. They tell us the planets they’d discovered, the ones to explore, when and how. Then we give them the go-ahead or say no.”

“Splendid!”

“At last,” said Ted, pointing to an empty seat. “Here’s your seat,” he said pointing to a cushioned seat having metallic edges and a backrest. On its top was written “HENRY WHITE”, in the Lincoln typeface. The Lincoln was Henry’s best font, so seeing it he was greatly attracted to the seat. Every member’s name, before his or her arrival, was written in the type of writing style such was best enamored with.

Ted rushed away, as soon as Henry had sat down, with a speed far far greater than the one he had initially used to get to Henry. But this time Henry observed it wasn’t Ted alone utilizing such enormous speed—many others were doing that too. There and then Henry felt he had the answer to the dean’s second question.
A whistle sounded, and then followed the chimes of bell, of incredibly humongous decibel.

Seated to the left of Henry was a young boy, of about the same age and stature, leering wickedly at Henry at first sight. He was putting on a silky shirt, having several colors, and a panama hat laid fittingly on his head which was only partially covering his hairs. His nostril was extremely narrow, but the looks of his eyes were piercing. His mouth seemed rotund as that of a koala bear.

To the right of Henry was seated a young girl, whose appearance was exactly the replica of Kate’s doll: Her hair was long and white. Her eyelashes appeared artificially glued to her face. Her teeth were the whitest Henry had ever seen. She was friendly, welcoming Henry as he sat.

“Hullo, I’m Dolly, what’s yours?” she said, speaking like a young baby, who had only learnt few words to communicate with.

“Henry,” he replied. To avoid further communication with her (since she was not Cynthia) Henry looked ahead, away from her. It seemed the presence of Henry was gladdening her heart, since she wouldn’t have to be the next to the leering boy anymore (Henry’s seat had only come between them that same day).

Looking lopsidedly to his left, Henry saw the section occupied by the Africans. Their population seemed to outnumber those of each of the rest of the sections in the conference hall.

“If we’ve got lots of them here,” said Henry to himself, “why has there not been much development there?” However Henry got no answer to his question, since no one was able to hear his question.

“I’m going to ask the Professor—when we get back to earth.”
Not long after, a voice was heard calling for order. The Lingua Franca over there was English, since the addressee was communicating with it and everyone appeared to understand it. It occurred to Henry that the French inventor he’d earlier seen, must have learnt the English language over there—in Gyrus.
Henry was able to see the anonymous voice owner through a large screen far ahead at the podium, having a base on which it stood. The Screen was convex, magnifying the image of the speaker ten times more than the way his stature was.

No loudspeakers were seen around, yet the speaker’s voice came out audibly, with ultra-high frequency, synchronously sourcing from the mouth of the speaker. A winged mirror flew towards Henry and hung before him. He grabbed it and its wings vanished instantly.

The speaker on the podium called the names of each first-timers one after the other demanding for an introduction from each of them. At last it was Henry’s turn to introduce himself.

“Professor Wilson,” said the man. “Is your boy here?”

The dean appeared in everybody’s mirror instantly, about to speak.

“You sure know that,” said the dean in a rather boorish manner. Then the speaker called, “Henry White, introduce yourself.”

Henry, about to rise up, was pulled back to his seat by Dolly.

“You needn’t rise up,” she said slowly, putting much stress on each word.

Henry coughed.

“I’m Henry White. I attend the CCUL, in the Physics department, born in 1965…”

At the mention of his year of birth, the boy to his left looked more intensely at him. Henry’s image on the large screen located on the podium, was made the cynosure of all eyes. Henry was shy.

Lots of people were given room to demand whatever they needed. Some, craving for fame, made enquiries on how to make it. Politicians too, asked great deal of questions. What staggered Henry was the numerosity of the Africans who had asked questions too. Their population surpassed those of the other continents—but most of the questions they asked were clustered around personal interest instead of the good of the masses. There and then, Henry believed he had got enough facts to unravel the enigma he was having earlier concerning them.

A very long period after, the meeting was brought to a close. The rate at which Gyrus became almost empty made Henry felt that most of the people were nostalgic, wanting to be home on earth. Not knowing how to get to earth, he was pacing about. All of a sudden, he met himself right before the dean in his office. The man was sitting opposite him, just as they were before ‘skyrocketing’ to Gyrus…

MARCH 1, 1984

Henry walked eagerly to school next day, from the hostel. He saw Ted waving at him distances away. He spoke loudly from where he was:

“Henry, see you in the meeting this evening!”

“Meeting?” Henry thought. “I thought I’ve told him I’m not gonna make it.”

After the day lecture, Susie approached him. If Henry had been aware of her presence on time, he would have sneaked away. She was already very close before Henry was able to realize it. Not that she had a small stature for him not to have noticed her presence on time. At least she was having an enormous stature, just like Kate, Henry’s sister.

Susie wasn’t athletic too, but a bit plump instead. She had frog-like eyeballs, which appeared as if glaring at anyone she had come across. However, it seemed they had functioned like Galilean telescopes, since she did profess that everything she did saw appeared closer to her than they really were. She was so proud of such exceptional ability that she gave herself the name “Mrs. Spy”.

Susie was among the myriad of ladies, who always felt that having Henry as an inamorato would be the best thing that could ever happen to them, believing that Henry, who was the most brilliant in their level, according to a general conclusion, could bring them to limelight, if only they were intimately close to him. However, Cynthia wasn’t in such school of thought. Her predilection for sport, basketball especially, had possibly affected her choice. She loved sport men.

Susie, being Henry’s departmental mates, had invited him to her parties several times, but he had never honored one, giving flimsy and shoddy excuses. Susie was never tired of inviting him and he was never tired of rejecting her invitations too. Susie was not a tetchy type of person. She did showed much level of maturity, beaming with incredible auspiciousness, believing that persistence was the secret to getting whatever one was craving after. But, if her principle was a general type, she might not win Henry over, because Henry too was working with the same principle—to get Cynthia.

“Henry,” she called. She was going to ask him out once again. “I’m sure you won’t say yes.”

“To what?” asked Henry.

“What I’m about to ask—”

“I’ll say yes,” said Henry rashly, not looking up at her face.

It was Henry’s usual practice to frustrate her effort, by saying something to negate her words, but Henry was not aware that Susie could be tricky sometimes.

She smiled and said, “Are you going to come with me—” She lowered her face to look into his eyes, “for dinner at dusk—six pm?” she concluded with a smile.

Henry discovered his foolishness at once. He had earlier promised to say yes.

“Sorry, can’t say yes this time,” said Henry regretfully.

“Why?” she asked. “I thought you said you don’t tell lies and you hate liars.”

“It’s true.”

“Then why changing your words? You said you’ll say yes.”

“I’m Sorry,” said Henry. “I would have loved to come with you, but I’m having a date with someone else.”

“Do you care if I know who?” said Susie. She had never seen Henry hang around with any girl, so she was eager to know who it was Henry would be dating. Henry hesitated.

“With the dean,” Henry grimaced after his speech. Susie mustered superficial laughter.

“Are you guys gays?” she japed and laughed again. Amidst laughter Henry said, “No. just that we’ve agreed to meet… for something important.”

Ending his speech, Henry felt like a betrayer for telling her about the meeting. The Professor had asked Henry not to tell anyone that he would be taking him somewhere, but Henry had just made the mistake of letting out the secret to Susie. His visage was dull instantly. He left her on that spot, striding away with fast and quick steps, usual with a fella, who was ten minutes late for duty.

Henry ideated the Professor asking him if he had told anybody about the meeting. He quickly got it settled beforehand the response he would give.

Few minutes to the scheduled time, Henry got to the dean’s office, but leaned against the door for few moments before summoning the courage to go in, being afraid that the dean, utilizing the said magical power, would perceive his breach of promise.

“You’re here at last.”

“Yes sir.” He gazed on the tiled and glossy floor. Keeping silent, he fixed his gaze on the well-painted wall, then to the glass of coffee, placed on a small table between himself and the dean. The coffee in it was so little that it would hardly satisfy the thirst of a newly born baby.

The man looked earnestly on him and said, “You’ve told somebody, isn’t it?” Henry was not going to let the dean beat him to it. He was going to see if the man was establishing a fact or only asking a question. He kept quiet, expecting him to say it again.

The man felt that Henry did not hear his speech clearly, so he said, “Have you told somebody?” in a louder tone. To give an answer seemed difficult, because Henry’s conscience was actively knocking the door of his heart, as if to burgle the rib cage and get him arrested if he told a lie. To keep it quiet Henry was going to play a trick on it, which should also be effective enough to trick the dean.

“Uh—” sounded Henry as he kept silent, thinking, “Susie isn’t worth somebody to me. She’s nobody.”

The impatient man shouted, “Hey, tell me, have you told somebody?”

“I’ve not told somebody. I only told—”

“Who?” shouted the Professor, extremely curious.

“I only told Nobody,” he said trickily, and the man fell for it, chuckling ignorantly as he said, “You and this repartee of yours…”

Henry had many strategies he used in deceiving people and his conscience too. The one he had just used was only one of those numerous strategies.

“Have your seat.” The dean pointed to a rocking chair directly opposite him. “You’ll see for yourself today in the meeting, the coming together of lots of people from all works of life. Just count yourself lucky that you’ll soon be in their midst.”

Henry coughed. It was a sign to tell the man that he was bored of too much of talks, but was expecting to begin the journey instantly, to the meeting place, not knowing how far or near the place would be, to the campus.

Making his right hand into a cylindrical form, by folding his fingers, the Professor yawned into the cavity formed as he continued:

“You’re going to meet with great men of great achievements. Doctors, Lawyers, Professors, Inventors, Astronauts, Students ...”

“People of different caliber,” intruded Henry.

“What will they be doing there?” he asked.

“Sharing great ideas. That’s why I said you’ll have all knowledge and the ability to see the future.”

“How?”

“Combination of skills from all the represented profession over there will tantamount to power—for you… for me… and… for all.”

Already losing patience, Henry decided to hasten up the discussion. Just as he was about to say something the dean said, “I’m going to ask you seven questions Henry, then we shall leave after you’ve provided the answers.”

“Alright,” said Henry, waiting to hear him speak.

“Ask on.” The man heaved a deep sigh, then he said, “One, what kind of power do great inventors possess?”

“Power of creativity,” said Henry promptly, as if he had premeditated on it. The man nodded in disapproval.

“Two, is any mean of transportation faster than the rocket?” Henry was not going to say anything this time, since his first answer had been rejected. He kept quiet.

“Three, where will you be forty-five minutes from now?” Gladly, Henry said, “In the meeting.”

“You’ll know this later,” said the dean. “Fourth question for you; which is best, making names or living long?”

“I don’t know.” Henry was gutted.

“I’m forty-four, am I fulfilled if I die at forty-five?”

“Sir, I beg your pardon, is it supposed to be the fifth question?” asked Henry, showing reverence for the man.

“Yeah!” he replied.

“I’m not sure,” said Henry as a reply to the question.

“Sixth question,” the man said, pointed a finger at him swiftly, and continued. “If your bosom friend is into something for two good years before letting you know about it, how will you feel?”

“It can’t happen.”

“What if it does?”

“Then such’s no friend. A friend wouldn’t wait for so long.”

“What will you do if such fella’s your friend?”

“I’ll choke him to death,” said Henry in earnest, his facial expression revealing the outpour of rage on the abstract friend.

“You won’t,” said the dean. “You’ll stick closer the more—to him.”

“How d’you know that?” Henry asked baffled.

“I saw into your future.” The man’s face gestured his expression. He looked piercingly into Henry’s eyeballs, sending some sensation of fear into him.

“Seventh and last,” the man said at last. “When will you die?”

Henry answered rudely this time, “How am I suppose to know?”

“Well, you’ve just justified the fact that ordinary genius like you can’t give a right answer to any of the questions. But, they’ll become simple to you by the time you return as extra—ordinary genius.”

At last the dean asked, “Shall we go now?” Henry was going to yell a block letter “YES!”. About to open his mouth, Henry found himself in the midst of thousands of people, in a different ‘world’.

Weirdman:
*FTC*nice keep em coming

I'll do just that

CHAPTER FOUR
THE ADVICE OF MR. DOUBT

On the eve of Vulnerability’s journey to the Island of Greatness, Limitation sent for her elder brother, Doubt, to seek his counsel concerning her son’s departure. Limitation spotted Doubt through a crack in the wall and sent Hope to help bear his duffel bag. Doubt had scanty hairs on his head, being partially bald. The dark horn-rimmed spectacles set before his face seemed to be making his appearance spectacular, since the glasses had concealed the natural scary glares of his face. A wristwatch hung in the fob at the centre of his coat. Doubt would hardly take his face off the watch. Maybe he was doing so to call the attention of others to it. It was the Watch of Despair, which he got from his father aside the many scrolls he had kept in his study right inside the Flirts’ flats. The Watch of Despair was the only asset of Despair that had survived the destruction of the Den of Despair by Mr. Saint. The watch was not only indispensable to Doubt but was also the despair of those worshipping in Mr. Atheist’s synagogue called the Synagogue of Sinners. As he walked, his double chin lolloped beneath his jaw to give his head the shape of the caricature of a well-to-do personage. The orifices of his bulbous nostrils were as wide as the hole on the top of the long pipe in his mouth, whose stale smoke he had just puffed into his lungs. The smoke from the pipe of the moon-faced corpulent man almost choked Hope, who coughed and collected the load quickly. The man was about six feet and three inches tall, fat-faced, with a rotund physique.
“Dang! This load is too heavy!” grumbled Hope, and then he stumbled, dropping the heavy load immediately.
“Hope!” screamed Limitation. “Why did you drop your uncle’s load? Come on, pick it up right away!”
“I can’t!” rebuffed Hope sharply, exiting the room for another—the inner one. In annoyance, Limitation made to go after her rude boy, but Doubt restrained her.
“Lim, my little sister, blame not Hope,” said Mr. Doubt. “My loads are heavy indeed—too much for Hope to bear. I doubt if you’ll be able to bear it yourself.”
“But what d’you have in your bag that’s causing this heaviness?” Limitation wanted to know.
“Stones! Flat stones on whose surfaces my quotes are inscribed,” replied Doubt. “So, Lim, why did you send for me?”
“Uh! Did Vulne not tell you?”
“Not at all. The message was delivered to my son because I wasn’t home when he came. My son only told me that you wanted to see me. I doubt if Vulne told him what it’s all about.”
“Okay,” Limitation whispered. “Excuse me for a second,” she added, raising a fat finger as she adjourned to the inner room to summon her household to the parlour. As expected, they soon came, all of them.
“So sister, why did you decide to send for me?”
“To ask for counsel concerning my son Vulnerability.”
“On what?” he demanded curiously.
“On how he would make it to the Island of Greatness,” she replied.
“What!” Uncle Doubt yelled. “Limitation, I doubt if you’re in your right mind at all. Does it mean you now support your son’s journey to that bloody River of Achievement? So, you’ve been nursing such ambition without informing me.”
“But I sent little Hope to your flat in the Flirts’ flats to tell you about it last week,” Limitation hollered in amazement.
“I didn’t see a shadow, let alone Hope under my roof,” uncle Doubt revealed to Limitation’s displeasure. She turned to Hope and held his head in her hands. Then she turned Hope’s face to face her own face and yelled, “Hope is it true?”
“Yes it is,” responded Hope curtly, having mustered much courage to utter the mutter.
“Why?” Mediocrity screamed at him, but Limitation was dumbfounded already, staring with open mouth. “Why didn’t you—?”
“Because I’m convinced that uncle Doubt will surely douse Vulne’s dream of getting to the Island,” replied Hope audaciously. “More so, Father Sage has warned that we shouldn’t allow the air to blow the news into his ears, else, Vulnerability’s ability and agility shall be deadened.”
“Shut up there!” Limitation vociferated. “I wonder who put those words into your mouth.” Mr. Doubt had frowned in dismay when little Hope mentioned the old priest’s name; the name he would not want to hear all his lives.
“Hope!” he yelled. “Don’t call the name of that gray-head in my presence anymore, because he’s such a cruel man, using force to achieve things.”
“How do you mean?” Limitation asked her brother.
“The old fool is full of himself. He sent one of his nephews to destroy the foundation of my school.”
“Sorry for the loss,” they commiserated.
“I doubt if the Sage is wise at all,” said Doubt. “I also doubt his love for this family; if he’s really in good term with this wonderful family, he wouldn’t have encouraged Vulne to make a move toward the Island of Greatness, since it was on this same journey Alacrity lost his life. Remember, Alacrity of then with is stout physique was by far stronger and more agile than the Vulne of now with his cadaverous look when he left for the Island, yet he died in the River of Achievement.”
“He didn’t die in the River of Achievement,” came up Hope’s voice. “But in the forbidden River of Haste,” he added.
“Keep shut!” Limitation yelled at him and then turned to face her brother. “Old brother, don’t get annoyed with us.”
“Why would I? Hope, listen to me, both the River of Achievement and the River of Haste are the same, since both are leading to your supposed Island. Listen to me, Hope, whether those rivers are existing or not, the truth is this—no one can get into the Island of Greatness through them.”
“But Badmanner scaled through the River of Haste to the Island of Greatness,” Hope responded but his uncle debunked, saying, “Wasn’t that a rumour spread by your friend Gooddream and his brothers? It’s a blatant lie that Badmanner got into the Island. Even if the story was true, I’m sure Mr. Goodluck wouldn’t smile at him for such act. Mr. Goodluck will definitely not agree with someone who got to the Island through the forbidden river.”
“But neither Vulne nor myself will go through that route, but through the River of Achievement,” Hope said. In silence, uncle Doubt stared at the cracked ceiling of the Dilapidation dwelling place, and through it he saw the position of the sun in the sky.
“I doubt if this argument would have been settled before the sun settles in the west to rest for the rest of the day. Lim, I blame it all on you.” Doubt faced his sister.
“Why?” she was shocked.
“If you hadn’t named him Hope, the hope that he could elope with Peace to cope with the slopes on the road to that abstract island wouldn’t have been within his scope.”
“But you shouldn’t blame me for this!” Limitation frowned. “You’d rather blame Mr. Nonsense; you know he was the person who left us and left Hope with us, thereby leaving us with no hope of naming our son the name we crave, allowing Father Sage to christen him Hopefulness instead of the Hopelessness we had in mind to name him.”
Uncle Doubt shook his head sideways to pity Hope. “Well—nothing spoils,” he said. “Let’s just have it at the back of our minds that whenever we call Hope, we’re only meaning it for Hopelessness our boy.” The house burst into a mocking laughter. Hope became extremely annoyed at their teases. He rushed out of the room to an inner one.
“Hopelessness, will you come back here right now?” Limitation was yelling, but her shout was not potent enough for Hope to change his mind.
“Let him alone,” Doubt spoke, hissing. “Just make sure you do everything in your capacity to prevent him from leaving the house, else you’ll have another child drowned in the river.”
“I’ll do just that, my brother,” she responded humbly. Surprisingly, Hope entered the room again, feeling awkward, and all eyes went gawking at his direction as if he was a hawk in search of a-day-old chick. They could not conjecture his gesture. The boy bent to carry Standaloof into the inner room so he could teach her how to stand, but Limitation screamed at him, having detected his intention.
“Hope, drop that poor girl right away!” she cried. “I know that you know that I know that you want to take her away to teach her how to move, isn’t it?”
“Yes of course!” Hope replied without a trace of fear. “Or is it crime to teach someone how to move?” Hope was expecting to hear his mother contradict him. However, this time it was Doubt who responded, “It’s big crime for that matter. It is good aim that Standaloof should remain maimed, lame and tamed here in accordance with her name instead of letting her walk out of Dilapidation to be dead in those evil rivers.”
“It’s not good,” Hope debunked rudely. “If it’s crime then Father Sage hadn’t composed the poem: step by step, such is life...if one do not take a step forward, then another person running forward will see the stagnant fellow as though he’s taking a backward step. That’s what the priest taught us last week,” Hope spoke earnestly.
“You’d better doubt the priest,” Hope’s uncle said. “In fact, you’d better doubt all who want you out of this house.”
“I can’t remain here! I can’t remain here!” Hope cried with all his soul. “How can I remain in a place like this where bed bugs and mosquitoes wouldn’t stop bugging my toes? They would not also cease to seize the blood in my sinews and suck the little red liquid in my buttocks because of these holey walls that would permit millions of them in at once. Also, rats and cockroach of reproach approach and encroach on my meals every day before I’d had the chance to feed on the meals myself. I’m tired of this dungeon whose beauty could only be compared with the ugliness of that hideous hideout called Dungalow bungalow.”
“Quiet!’ Limitation scolded. “There’s no room without mosquitoes. I’ve been to all houses in Average Street, and in them all, there are bed bugs and mosquitoes. I’ve been to the Dotage cottage, Pottage cottage, Dungalow bungalow, Flirts’ flats, Flatterers’ flats, Hurt huts, Duplicity duplex, Hostility hostel, Castration castle, Abandoned abode, Innocency inn, Unstable stable and more, yet none of them is free from mosquitoes. So what’re you saying? I’m sure that in your said Island of Greatness mosquitoes abound, biting the islanders’ toes.”
“Not just mosquitoes in the islanders’ rooms alone—” said Mediocrity, “But bees on bed too, as well as termites in garments and worms on roofs.”
“And I doubt if there aren’t centipedes and millipedes in there too,” said Doubt, laughing jokingly.
“It’s not true!” screamed Hope. “Father Sage said the island is free of all such impediments.”

Yemi felt four hands bearing his weight away. His mind was far gone. He had no hope and no strength. Perhaps, if he knew Gabriel would land a bantam weight blow on his cerebral cavity, he would have been at alert. Now the pain had gone too deep into his coordinating system such that he almost had stroke.

It was like an earthquake. Seemed the damage at the epicentral part of the blow receptor had come to stay. Yemi got saliva running down his mouth uncontrollably. He had shut his eyes as though he would die.

Yemi was dumped in a room. By then, he had passed into comatose.

Yemi woke up to reality quite soon. His face had just been baptised in cold water, a chilling one. As he opened his eyes, he saw Michael standing in front of him.

"Ha! Michael!" he yelled and then became dumbfounded. If anyone had told Yemi that Michael was going to betray him, he would have doubted it, since he hadn't seen any reason why anyone should do these to him.

"What have I done?" Yemi stared up at Michael with a confused face.

Michael gripped him by the chin and jerked him up. His legs were off the ground. Then he spat on his face and threw him at the floor.

"What's happening to me?" Yemi was weeping.

"You'll soon know," Michael said and walked away lackadaisically. Yemi began to experience whirlpool. It was as though the whole room was turning around like a turnstile or a rigmarole.

Yemi had to lie on the floor flat, since he thought the turning experience was real and he could fall down.

He saw Gabriel smoking cigarette at a corner. Gabriel came close and offered him a stick.

"Gentleman, smoke St. Morris," Gabriel said.

"I can't!" Yemi replied. Cigarette smoking was totally against Yemi's moral standard of health. He hadn't smoked all his life.

"You can't or you don't?" Gabriel asked in a voice so deepened by the effect of continuous hemp smoking.

"I--I don't," Yemi said and soon had some tears on his face.

"You'll smoke by force today, or else I will smoke your head," Gabriel threatened, laughing. Yemi was scared. If only he had his hands free now, maybe he would have tried them at something to escape, but he had been tied up with a strong cord.

Gabriel lowered himself after lighting a stick. He was going to force it into Yemi's mouth. Yemi tightened up his lips against each other. Never would he allow it, even if it would mean death.

Gabriel's attempt to force it in was a sheer waste of time since Yemi was turning his mouth away all the time as he maintained the firm cohesive force between the lips.

"Are you mad?" Gabriel shouted at him when he found his three-minute effort in futility. Repulsively, Gabriel landed a heavy elbow blow on his spinal cord. The shock travelled through Yemi's body as he yelled "Yeee!"

Gabriel was not done yet. He was coming to do him more harm, but at the sight of an opulent newcomer, he halted and paid obeisance.

"Oga sir!" he saluted like a soldier. The face of the newcomer was critical. He looked on at Gabriel with disgust as the smoke from the cigarette circulated the air. The newcomer had seen Gabriel drive the heavy blow into Yemi's back earlier.

"Hey Mr man, what are you doing with him?" he shouted at Gabriel at last. His voice commanded authority as Gabriel shook like a leaf tossed to and fro by the wind.

"I am very sorry sah!" Gabriel managed to speak correct English since the man had communicated to him in English too.

"Are you going to kill him before we use him?" the man frowned.

"I sorry so much sir," Gabriel released a grammatical blunder at last. The man then began to walk close to Yemi. He croutched before him and said, "Mr. Yemi the moralist, or am I wrong?"

Yemi could not say a word.

The newcomer was in a robe, expensive robe. He was light-skinned and fresh as if he hadn't lived under the heat of the belligerent Nigerian sun all his life. He had a dark goggle on his face and the cap on his head was long.

The newcomer's body structure would remind one of the famous dunlop elite cartoon for advertisement in the 90's where the likes of Michelin tyre service and so on were the reigning motor tyre service company in limelight back then.

Going by the man's dressing, one would call him a millionaire. His shoe could even be worth more than twenty thousand naira in the market. Yemi was afraid of the man, perhaps he was going to be sold to him for ritual.

Yemi hadn't seen much of the face of the man standing over him because he was having a dark pair of eyeglasses glommed to it, but going by the side view, he looked like the moralist himself, Aluko Peter. He had seen him in posters and pictures earlier, but in 2D.

Michael roughened his already roughened hair in anxiety. It was as if he wanted to meet a deadline.

"Sir, are you not already late for work?" he asked Yemi at last.

"Well...what can we do about it?" Yemi said in a relaxed manner. He had already resigned to fate.

Yemi was watching all the gestures Michael was making. If it was for his sake Michael was shaking like that, then indeed he had his love at heart.

As if Michael was a mind reader, he said, "Sir, as for me I have nothing doing apart from this, but for your sake I have to find a way out of this mess."

"Thank you very much mister Michael," Yemi was impressed.

Michael began to pass by the brink of the road, just to see if he could go out of the jam faster. The car was bending in such a way that Yemi thought it would tumble over. They had to beg other drivers every now and then before they could get back on line.

"This country sickens me," Michael said.

Yemi's bones and muscles were hyperactive in response to the kind of talk Michael had just introduced.

"Yes o, my brother. You're not the only one. Sometimes I just get bored and asked myself, why am I born into this nation?"

"Our leaders are crazy," Michael said.

"Yes, it's the truth," Yemi accepted. "Democracy is a demonstration of craziness."

"Where do you get that statement from? I love it!" Michael said with an excited face.

"From the book, Politics, A Poison To Black Nations, wtitten by Aluko Peter."

"You don't mean it!" Michael exclaimed. "And that man is in jail now, isn't he?"

"Not yet," Yemi said. "Not until his accuser has been fully proven right."

"But what do you think sir? Do you think the man did what he is indicted for?"

Yemi grinned. He had heard such question from at least a dozen mouths just within a week--a newscaster, journalists on TV, his wife, his daughter, his half-brother, his colleague im his workplace and now Michael was asking too.

"I was Mr Aluko's fan until this debilitating news came up few weeks ago, but my stance is that nothing can't happen in politics, Nigerian politics," Yemi divulged his opininon.

Yemi didn't even realise when the road became free, being highly engrossed in the political discourse with his newly found friend, or guardian angel.

"Sir, I'm stopping here briefly to pick up that passenger I told you about," Michael said as he made the taxi slowpoke going towards the side of the road. Yemi watched an obese pregnant woman scamper out of the road with her baby. She had one strapped to her back, two held to her grips and a load on her head. Seemed she was waiting for a bus to board. One would have to trust Lagos drivers, they wouldn't pick her up, just because of the delay she would constitute in getting settled in their buses.

Fat people, let alone pregnant and heavy laden 'labouring women', were always denied space on Lagos commercial vehicles. If at all they would get in, they would have to pay for double space.

Yemi pitied the woman.

"Hmm," he sighed.

Michael pulled up in front of a man who had a long face cap over his face. He was young and seeming to be bequeathed with ebullience. His eyes sparked out life, being in his early youthful age.

He seemed to be in his mid-twenties. However, he was looking rough too.

"I've been waiting for long Michael," he said as he got into the cab.

"There's one big go-slow around that T-junction, Gabriel," Michael said.

"And another traffic jam is waiting ahead," said Gabriel. "I was just coming from that way now. "Can we just change route?"

Michael introduced Yemi to Gabriel.

"Geebu, meet Oga Yemi, my friend in recent time."

Gabriel bowed his head for Yemi since he was old enough to be his uncle.

"How are you?" Yemi greeted him like a VIP.

"Fine sir," Gabriel answered.

Michael wanted to be sure of the news Gabriel just brought, so he asked him again, "Do you mean we should leave this main road?"

"Yes o, Michael," he said. "There's a heavy checking point ahead, causing a stand still. We will just fall headlong if we are not careful. I hope Mr Yemi hear isn't in a hurry," the young man turned to Yemi.

"In fact I'd be late if we get into another traffic stand still," Yemi blew out his mind. "Are there still other route?"

"Routes abound Mr Yemi," Michael said. "It's just that they are within streets and they could be longer, that's all."

"Then let's try one of them," Yemi said, seeking a respite from the continuous traffic jams on such part of the road.

"Let's go there!" Michael said in a funny way and then manoeuvred his way into the street abutting the expressway.

The ringroad was messed up with dust since it had never been tarred as it appeared, perhaps for donkeys years. There was no street lamp on the sides of the street, Ajetunmobi street. Just few houses were on it.

Yemi watched as the taxi went down into the street, then to another and to another until hr wasn't able to count. The last one they entered seemed to be a close which was culminating into a bush.

Yemi was surprised. He was about to raise a brow when a terrible blow rocked the centre of his forehead. Yemi went with his side down in the bus but was remaining conscious.

For such a devastating blow to have come from Gabriel, a twenty-five to twenty-six year old stippling, he must be under the influence of something.

"W-what's happening?" Yemi whispered with all the strength monetarily left in him.

Michael had parked the car to join Gabriel at the back. When Michael came around laughing, Yemi raised his head in disbelief to look into his face and then said in a cold voice, "What have I done?"

Michael didn't give a reply. He had begun to blindfold him with a red piece of cloth.

My facebook Titi don ping me 'hi' like five times wey I no respond. She send me 'Are you there,Chiboy?'

Me wey I don dey rage already. Me nor go fit marry woman wey no dey honest o. My vex don hot so tey if you cook ontop am, e go fit boil water. Chai! See as this girl use my head!

Na Emeka peep inside my phone see say I no answer the messages wey hin dey send since.

"Chiboy! Wetin dey worry your head nah!" Emeka tok. "Sebi I don tell you say make you no worry say we go hayaj am by surprise. If you stop talking to her, we no go fit catch am o.!"

"Wetin you mean?" I ask Emeka.

"Bring the phone jare!" Emeka shout snatch the phone from me. "Iti mpataka!"

I just dey look Emeka. I no kuku sabi wetin hin wan do with my phone. I don taya sef, anything wey hin like mey hin dey do ontop am. Wetin concern me? Wetin I know be say no money go comot my pocket give anybody again.

"Take your phone back," Emeka tok. "I don respond am."

"Why nah?" I shout for hin head. "Why you respond that kind person nah? I don leave am for life! I go go continue with my real world Titi instead of that flirt wey dey inside phone!"

"You too tok Chiboy!" Emeka tok. "Check your phone first!"

I check the phone see wetin I no believe. Emeka don speak with am at length. I begin read their tok tok:

Titilayo Adelanwa: 3:30pm
Hi Chiboy
3:31pm
Chiboy! Chiboy!! Aww!
3:32pm
What happened?
3:32pm
Are you there Chiboy?
3:33pm
What's wrong sweetie?
3:34pm
Please talk to me, I'm getting scared!!!
8minutes ago
Chibooooyyyyy!!!

7 minutes ago
Chibuzor Orizu:You wan call person name die ni?

6 minutes ago
Titilayo Adelanwasadsighs) You scared me! Why aren't you answering my chat since?

6 minutes ago
Chibuzor Orizu: I be dey take my bath ni o. No vex dear.

5 minutes ago
Titilayo Adelanwa: Hey! Come off that dirty pidgin thing Chiboy! I can't understand it.

5 minutes ago
Chibuzor Orizu: lol...

4 minutes ago
Titilayo Adelanwa: You can communicate in that Queen English of yours Chiboy! I love your English.

3 minutes ago
Chibuzor Orizu: hmm...you is fun-making me abi? Ride on...

2 minutes ago
Titilayo Adelanwa: I'm saying the truth Chiboy!

2 minutes ago
Chibuzor Orizu: Okay...you has no problem...your head is there.

1 minutes ago
Titilayo Adelanwa: (frowns) Chiboy, seems you're very fast on the keyboard now. Wow! Your typing skill's becoming awesome!

1 minutes ago
Chibuzor Orizu: A yam laerning... hey, let us leave that talk first. Titi, I love you.

1 minutes ago
Titilayo Adelanwa: Sure, me too...

30 seconds ago
Chibuzor Orizu: Send me your Account Number, I just feel to sending you #50,000 to buy fine fine cloth for yourself. I want come your place soon.

20 seconds ago
Titilayo Adelanwa: Thanks a lot Chiboy!!! Account Number: 012185334, WEMA BANK, no need
sending branch nowadays, they'll forward it to my account straight. I'll be expecting. When are you sending it Chiboy?

Just now
Chibuzor Orizu: "9am, tomorrow!"

Just now
Titilayo Adelanwa: Wow! I'm blushing!!!

"Chai! Which kind message be this nah, Emeka!" I shout for hin head. Where I wan see that kind big money, 50k!"

Emeka look me hiss.

"You no even sabi coding sef."

"Wetin you dey code Emeka?"
I tok.

"You just sidon dey look wetin I go do that girl," Emeka tok.

Na that same day I see person dey use hin java phone dey browse one site wey I never hear before. The boy just dey laugh like say dem dey tickle am for armpit. I ask am, "Biodun, wetin dey make you laugh like this sef?"

"Na tory o! Chai! Omo, see tory," na so the guy tok burst enter laugh again.

"Tory?" I never hear say person fit dey read tory for phone before. Na so I ask the boy, "Which kind tory be that nah mey I see am?"

"Na one pidgin tory o," the boy tok.

"For Facebook?" I ask am quick, wen be say na only Facebook me sabi for phone. Nothing dey sweet me for Yahoo joor.

"Facebook ke? Wetin concern me concern facebook? Mtchew!" Biodun hiss bury hin head inside hin phone dey laugh again.

"Hey! If you wan cre, no be inside my shop you go kon do that one o! Comot for here now now!"

The boy look me begin beg me.

"Oga Chibuzor nah, please nah! Na because of this tory I run comot house o! My mama pursue me comot with turning stick when she tok say mey I carry elubo go kitchen wey be say na inside toilet I go land."

"Chekwe!" I shout hold my head. E dey possible? How come? How person go forget hinsef ontop phone go enter toilet instead of kitchen? Na lie joor.

I begin dey reason with am. E fit be true sha! Like that day wey I dey chat Titi facebook for road wey be say na small e remain make bicycle jam me. Anyway, I just free the guy kon ask am wetin hin dey even check sef.

"Na tory I dey check o," Biodun reply me.

"Tory for where?" I ask am. "You mean say English reading book dey inside there?"

"No Chiboy, na nairaland I dey o," I tok.

"Nairaland? Wetin den dey do for there nah?"

"Den dey read tory noni," the guy tok enter another round of ogbonge laughter. This time I just provoke snatch the phone from ram look wetin hin dey do sef. True true I read small lines kon see say na pidgin story as he tok.

"Oya, help me do am inside my phone mey I dey read sef," I give am. Me too like pidgin that year sha. Sharperly the guy give me the address where I fit go. He tok say www.nairaland.com. I no waste time, I don reach there. Tekinology sha.

Na literature section me enter straight. Wetin concern me concern all the news wey just scatter up and down? As I reach literature section na hin I see Man Wey Dey Reason

Quick I don click am dey read. Chai! the tory long die o! The thing don even enter page 108 before I start dey read am. E go even better for me sha. Mey I just read am direct instead wey I go dey wait mey OP update every now and then.

Before I enter inside the thread sef, I don bypass many many threads when be say readers dey hala Op mey he kon continue hin story, else...

I see thread like Everybody Is A Genius, like that like that sha! Wetin the guy wan yarn for there sef? Which kind yeye tok be that? How everybody wan take be genius for this world. As much as e take concern me, na only me be genius. Any other genius na original fake.

I even see one thread sef. The title too long jare; na only who write am I sabi! Who write am sef, one guy wey hin username be Ericomoto. Mey I try remember that long name sef? Em...em...okay I don remember: LET'S PLAY THIS WORD GAME CALLED LAST MAN STANDING! I run enter the thread vex come outside again.

"Which kind thing the guy dey yarn for inside there sef?" I begin tok to myself. The guy dey tok say hin dey find person wey go comment last. "Why everybody wan even carry last sef? Mtchew!" The name wey I see last for there that time na Sammy Hoe. I shake my head say chai! this guy don carry last last last.

I waka comot there enter my pidgin tory again jare. Na Flow1759 dey reign o!

Emeka kon meet me say wetin I dey do sef.

"Me don get another website o!" I tell am. "This one sweet die!"

"En-hen! Mey I help you feel am too nah!"

"No problem," I tok kon bend my phone say mey hin sef dey enjoy am.

"So, Emeka how far you and Facebook Titi don go nah? Hope say she never kana say you no be Chiboy."

"How hin wan take kana? Impossible!" Emeka tok like person wey get confidence boku! I laff one kind laff wey make my guy shout, "Chibuzor! Wetin be your problem nah?"

"Na Flow wan kill me o!" I dey tok laugh. "The guy too flow abeg!"

Emeka see say I no even get time for ram sef, so tey hin waka comot my shop. Me no even mind am. Mey he carry go with Titi for facebook chat nah, abi I don kuku give am my username and password.

Emeka don run waka enter my shop back. Chai! if u see the guy face eeh! E just dey use vex waka come. Which kind palavar kon be this nah? Wetin dey worry Emeka sef? Wetin be hin problem sef? Na hin get the money wey I spend ontop my Titi ni?

"Chibuzor, you be correct mugu!" Emeka tok siddon my side put hin laptop down. "See wetin den dey call photoshop for here!"

I no wan even listen mey I hear wetin hin dey yarn. Na by force? Emeka disturb me so tey I look hin side. Hin run use hin camera snap me kon connect hin phone for the laptop.

"So, where the thing wey you wan show me now?" I ask am. I don dey lose my patience already.

"Get patience smallu nah," Emeka tell me. I soon see myself inside hin laptop.

"Guy, how you take do that?" I dey look am with surprise.

"Simple tekinology," Emeka tok like ibo boy. Na the way wey hin dey take call 'August' na hin dey funny me pass. He go tok say 'Ogosu'. Hin January sef na 'Jenuwari' hin dey call am.

"Eewe!" I shine my eyes dey look the thing. Wetin shock me na one calabash wey I see ontop my head suddenly for that picture. When hin snap me just now, nothing dey ontop my head. How that calabash kon take get there? E kon be like say I wan go do sacrifice take give Ekwensu.

"How come? How you do am?"

"Na Photoshop work be dat," Emeka tok give me. "You never see nathing!" hin tok like those Agbero for Ladipo Oshodi.

The second one wey I see na him make me shock pass. I just see say one woman back me for back like baby. Na only my big head dey show for ontop the wrapper wey the woman take tie me.

"Emeka! You be winch?"

"Na still photoshop, oya make I show you how I take do that one wey police kneedown for civilian."

Emeka begin drag picture up and down. Hin get one picture wey one person dey kneedown. Hin get another picture of one police wey dey collect bribe for express road. Before I know am, he don cut the police uniform comot kon go gum am ontop the guy wey dey knee down body. He do many many other magic wey I no undrlerstand and then the thing don ready.

My mouth don pave way tey tey. Den don sell me wey I no no. I don begin dey bite my lips; my head don scatter.

I no believe say my Titi fit do that kind thing for me. I wan vex text am blast am immediately, but Emeka say mey I no do that.

"We go fit catch am redhanded," Emeka tok. "She go fall enter our trap."

"Hmm!" I sound kon dey look ground like person wey dey hear smell of mess. No be the fact say I lose my money ontop nothing dey vex me, but the fact say my own facebook Titi wey I wan marry fit dey give me that kine big lie lie.

"So, how you kon think say we fit catch Titi redhanded nah?" I ask Emeka.

"Na simple thing Chiboy. Just relax! Pesh!" Emeka dey rub hin chest say make I nor worry.

Chai! My mind don begin shift back go the real Titi now. Soldier go soldier come na hin be this matter wey dey ground o.

Titi chat me, "Hi, Chiboy!"

I no respond.

I dragged myself to my mother in the dark and leaned my weighty head on her laps. My hot tears ran down my eyes into her laps—the cleavage in between them I guess. She lowered her head to my neck. She was weeping too. I knew this when a hot liquid ran through my nape.

The night was lengthier than ever. The last time I checked the time, it was 2pm. Now it should be 4pm, I thought. But then I had to wait and wait and wait. Sleep couldn’t graze my eyes. Mother was not also sleeping. We couldn’t communicate since everything needed for communication was under bondage; eyes dim, hands tied; no way!

A poem began to form on my befuddled brain. I would rock the world with it in the nearest future. I hated lie more than anything in the world. Why should we deaf, dumb, lame and blind people keep deceiving ourselves by giving ourselves hope that we are able when actually we are not? We say that what normal people can do, special people can do better. They tell us stories of Nick Vujicic who was born limbless in Australia. They tell us the story of a headless chicken who survived for eighteen months after its head had been chopped off its neck; the story of one Spencer West who climbed Mount Kilimanjaro without legs and many others. I don’t believe any of those craps. They even showed us pictures of those people to back up their claims that we are able. That chicken, I could remember, was named Mike the Headless Chicken.

My class teacher would not let us rest while telling us those stories to motivate us and keep us away from thinking of our predicaments. She would say, without a head, Mike the headless chicken could run about for eighteen months, how much more you who have heads?
I could remember challenging her that day by asking, “What is the essence of a piece of bread without butter? What is the use of a house without furniture? What is the use of a head without functions?

“What do you mean by all these?” she demonstrated in annoyance.

“A head with useless lips, mouth, tongue and ears, what’s the use?” I replied her that day. She was speechless.

So where is that specialty right now? We deaf and dumb can’t communicate in the dark, yet we have something called mouth. Why at all am I even born with a mouth when it isn’t speaking, or should I shift the blame on the tongue? We can’t enjoy movies because they were not designed for we the deaf people. How could we hear their speech? No way!

If only I have an ear that could listen, my mother was ready, even now, to tell me to detail everything that had transpired between herself and her husband. Why should I even need her to tell me what happened when I would actually have heard them myself during the heat of the brawl?

We spent two months in the dark. Actually, it wasn’t two months but it seemed so because of the torment we were passing through. Maybe we had a shorter day and a longer night, who knows.

The day began to dawn gradually and the blanket of darkness left the face of the wall clock. I checked the time; it was 5:25 am. The door flung open and three souls trooped in, Toyosi, John and Bode. They were leering wickedly at us. We are dead!

Toyosi began to unleash the content of her mouth. She pounced on my mother and then came to me to do the same. She taught me a lesson I never learnt. She smashed my head on the bed wood. She was pointing at the smashed calabash, the scattered bed, the opened wardrobe and every other thing my mother and I have scattered during the course of our search for Bode. My common sense told me that she would use them all a evidence against us in the court of law.

By 7am we were still in bounds, only that we could now see each other. They had shut the door once more but our hands were still tied. My father tied them purposely to render us incommunicado. I leaned my back against the bedside and raised my legs up in the air to communicate with my mother. I managed to ask a question with my legs. She understood me vividly and she was shocked. Now how would she give me a reply? She couldn’t demonstrate anything with her own legs. It was a surprise to me when she nodded to signal to me that she wasn’t able to do that. She couldn’t control her toes to make any sign, but I was finding it so easy to do. I used my knees as my elbow whenever it was needed. I could easily fold all four toes and let the fattest one lie straight, but my mother couldn’t dare it.

INITIATED

“Henry, I’m a club member and I’ll like you join me in it,” Ted said.

“Club? When d’you join?”

“Two years ago.”

“What’s it all about?”

“All about getting the best in all aspects of life. Academicians of various calibers are there.” Ted said. “I’m sorry I’ve not told you this long ago.”

“Why?” said Henry, face looking a bit disfigured.

“Why’re you just telling me now?”

“I’m sorry; It was because I had erroneously thought you won’t have interest in such.”

“Why d’you think so?”

“You don’t like meeting people, do you?”

“You’re right,” said Henry. “But I’m already working on my social life, since the day I set my eyes on Cynthia.” Ted frowned because of the name Henry had just mentioned. Then he said,
“That’s good friend. A hundred percent social life will do no harm to anyone. ”

“Okay, your club, where’s it situated, California here?” Henry asked inquiringly, already developing interest. For a reply Ted said, “Just come to my room 6pm—tomorrow. I’ll take you there.”

Henry Exclaimed. “6pm! Oops! Ted I’m sorry I can’t make it.”

“Why?” asked Ted.

“Cos I’ve got to go somewhere with another man—same time, same date,” he said coolly.

“Maybe another time,” Henry concluded.
Ted was nosy, so he asked, “May I know who you’re going with and where?”

“Never worry,” said Henry. He wished Ted would not insist on knowing it.
Ted said, “When did you begin to hide things from me? Is it Cynthia you’re dating tomorrow?”

“She’s not,” said Henry point-blank. “She’s adamant.”

“No problem if you don’t want to tell me.”
Henry could have told Ted, but he was not going to. However, Ted smiled and left Henry alone. As Henry walked towards the lecture room, (he was an hour late already) he met Cynthia.

“Hi Cynthia,” he said, already having the thought of forfeiting lecture to spent some time with her, but she was in a hurry.

“Hi Henry,” she replied, leaving without saying more than that. Professor Wilson was already in the class when Henry entered.

“Henry, you’re an hour late, why?” he asked.
“I- I…” Henry stammered and every one laughed. He overheard someone say that he had seen him in the library studying. Another shouted, “Bookworm!”

“Henry, you’ve got to see me after class,” said the professor. Henry’s eyes bulged on hearing it. The students laughed.

Actually, Henry was in the library all the while. He was coming out from there when he met Ted. He was not studying in there, but was reading some novels instead. Since he had the ability to read very fast, he was enamored with reading novels, which had eventually become his hobby. He had read many of Chase’s books and had begun to write his own too.

Henry soon went to the dean’s office.

“I’m sorry I came late to…”

“Sorry for what? I’ve not called you here to discuss your lateness. The early comers what have they got to show for it? Nothing!” He looked at Henry’s face and smiled, “Henry guess what!” said the dean. The expression on Henry’s face on hearing the words had passed a message to the man’s brain. Henry was scared of guessing.

“Okay, I can see you have phobia for guessing, isn’t it?” said the man and Henry nodded pretentiously, in order to let the dean say what he had to say. Henry was only trying to save time by his deeds.

“Well,” said the man, smiling. “It’s my birthday—today,” he said. “It’s special to me—happens only once in four years.”

“February 29, it’s true,” said Henry.

“I have never remembered to celebrate it. Since it is once every four years, it skips my memory.”

“Really!” exclaimed Henry. “It’s creepy.”

“Funny too. Last year, 1983, on February 28, I informed family and friends about my birthday to come next day, February 29. They all agreed to show up at the party. The party ground was set early enough as planned, the next day, but no one showed up.”

“Why?” asked Henry, pretending as if he never had an idea.

“Well, asking a friend later, he said that he checked his calendar the day that was supposed to be my birthday, only to discover it was March 1. So he felt there was no need for coming to my party anymore, since February 29 had decided not to surface.”

“Wow!” screamed Henry, amused by the short story, then the dean changed the mood abruptly.
“Hey, I called you here—” said the dean, “to remind you of tomorrow’s schedule. You still remember?”

“Yes sir—vividly.”

“You’ve told anyone?”

“No.”

“That’s good,” said the man. “You need not tell any one. Is that okay?”

“Yes sir,” he replied, but got some instant formation of questions in his brain, to ask the dean.

“Sir, where are we going tomorrow? Is it by rail, air or road?”

“Don’t worry your head,” the dean said. Meet me here tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure sir.”

At night, Henry could not sleep. He was overworking his brain, giving it lots of thoughts. Such had been his manner whenever he was curious about something.

What his parents’ reactions would be was part of what he was ruminating.

“Will they disown me? But Kate wasn’t disowned when she became a musician eventually.” At the thought of Kate, Henry’s countenance metamorphosed into a gloomy type. “I hate her. I’ve never prevailed over her.”

When Kate eventually joined herself to a professional music band called ‘The Lioness’, though secretly, Henry discovered it and divulged the secret to their parents. Kate came home one fateful day with her friends. Henry had kept a voice recorder somewhere in the room. Though Henry was not home when they came, yet the device recorded their speeches. In the course of the discussion, the friends spoke about a cassette, which they had kept in Kate’s school bag. Henry was able to locate the cassette as a result of the information he had got from the hidden device.

Henry played the cassette. She was performing on stage in it with her colleagues. Henry was almost carried away with the music, which was played andante. Kate was the lead singer in it, with an angelic voice. Henry was already nodding his head from side to side to the rhythm when he suddenly came to himself. He stopped abruptly and frowned.

Henry kept the cassette. He was not going to let her know about it; else, his plan would go awry again, like the one that had led him to prison.

Henry showed his parents the cassette at their arrival. They saw Kate in it, dazzling in front of many spectators. She was caught red-handed this time. Kate was shown the cassette. She was taken aback by it.

Henry was patiently waiting for the verdict, disownment, but he was making a mistake. Mr. and Mrs. White said, “What did we tell you Kate?”
“I shouldn’t become a musician,” she said, looking miserable.

“Then why this?” They pointed to her image on the screen, which was twirling in rigorous dances.

“Mum, dad, you can’t understand—I mean that’s the only talent I’ve got in the world,” she said, weeping solemnly.

“But we want you to be a doctor,” Mr. White said.
“Unfit. I can assure you lots of lives will be lost,” she said. Everywhere was silent after her speech. Henry was leering inimically at her, but she took no heed, probably because of her sight being blurred by the accumulation of tears dropping like dilute acid from a pipette, in drops—then in excess.

After moments of thinking by her parents, they said, “Kate you know what?” she could not answer, since her voice had become hoarse by the incessant weeping. “As long as you’re not going to join magic cult you are allowed to be a musician.”

Hearing such, she jumped from her seat to hug them. They received her with open arms. Wiping her face, she made eyes at Henry. Henry was jealous. He was getting prepared to leave the lounge when his father suddenly said, “Henry, please can you just raise the volume of the music, so that we can clearly hear its lyrics?” Henry ignored them in embarrassment and walked out of the room, abashed. Outside the door, Henry hit hard on the floor as if to artificially generate seismic wave from it—the type that would result into intense earthquake, which would swallow him up. Since the floor was the reinforced type, it did not pave way for “Henry’s wave” to pass through.