Short Stories

Let me tell you a story.

This happened many years ago…

Iwas about 11 or 12 years old and in junior high school — Federal Government College, Ikot Ekpene in Akwa Ibom state. I was in the boarding house system of that great institution and it was the first time I would be leaving my parents’ abode.

One of the rules of the institution was to observe a 2-hour study time between 7 pm and 9 pm every night, Monday to Friday…. we called it ‘prep’. For some, prep was fun, because it took place in the classroom facilities of the school… which was a mile from the boarding facilities where the hostels, clinic and other facilities were located. So those unserious ones relished going for prep every night to play, gossip, sleep… whatever. For very serious students like me, I went to prep to study every night. I always went to prep with my school father, a lothario called Femi Fashanki.

So my story begins here…..

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Have you heard the story of Elizabeth Short?
Many years ago, a lanky man walked into a house stealthily, under the cover of darkness. It was almost 2 am, the road was quiet but for leaves rustling on the breezy night. He left the jimmied door ajar as he entered the small house because he wanted his getaway to be swift. The floorboards creaked as he made his way towards the landing; he wasn’t sure if this had roused his prey sleeping upstairs.
The house was unassuming and sparsely furnished. There was a folded Californian style beach chair resting against a steep staircase. At the bottom of the stairs where he stood was a small table just beneath a cheap oil painting of a cottage beside a lake.
He stood at the same spot for a few minutes trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness in the room.

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I sat up on the side of the 4-poster king-size bed and looked out the French doors which I left open all night. The white, silky-thin curtain arched gently inwards like a sail and I felt the gentle sea breeze that accompanied it caress my face.

After a while, my mind went to breakfast, and as soon as my feet found the black suede Versace bedroom slippers, I got up and stretched almightily… I roared loudly like the heavens was pulling my hands. Then I blessed the ocean-fresh air with a satisfying morning fart, it wasn’t silent, but I wasn’t bothered.

Talking about mornings, as I stretched I felt the wicked morning wood in my Hilfiger lounge pants – it made me imagine the damage woody could do to someone’s daughter. Unutilised wood is one helluva waste, isn’t it?  Read Full Article

Let me ask you a question . . .

There were 3 men , let’s say their names are Daniel, David and Ezekiel, yeah? Ok. They were born on the same day, same month, same year… same hour. They are 32 years old. These men live a perfectly healthy and spiritual life. As Christians, they pray regularly, attend church every Sunday, give to charity (in equal measure) and live as sin-free as possible. They follow Christ’s every rule, and God loves them, they are indeed the apple of his eyes.

Daniel, David and Ezekiel take good care of their homes and families…love their wives unconditionally, avoid temptation, both physically and spiritually.

These men never said a cross word to anybody, never raised a fist and always turned the other cheek.

Are you still reading along? Good!

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Let me tell you a story…

A few years ago I was in Lagos trying to get the attention of one shiaman (chairman) to endorse or even invest in one of my ideas.

Having a sit-down with this guy was like cracking coconut with bare fists. While trying my hardest to catch the attention of this shiaman, I was introduced to this lady. One of those ones that you love to call ‘big girl’… the type that call themselves ‘slay queen’.

Apparently, she knew someone who was connected to this shiaman at the time. I’ll take what I get, I thought …. beggars can’t be choosers right? Fast forward to a few days later, we met at a popular Lagos Island hangout, my brother was also present. I was eager to meet Slay Queen.

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