The hunt.

The chairman slowly surveyed the room critically. He was extremely crossed-eyed which made it seem as though a pair of Cyclops were ardently scrutinizing you. Furiously scrutinizing you that is!

Despite his weird appearance, uncanny similarity to the Frankenstein monster in size and tendency to induce nightmares in the children of the group, especially after the christmas party which was celebrated every year at the lake side mansion reserved for Cabal business, he was deeply respected and in fact held in reverence by the members of the Cabal and thus when after his conspicuous head swiveling and intense eye contact with each and every member of the group he softly cleared his throat an instant silence replaced the hubbub that had broken out before he had finish the motion he had placed to the group roughly 5 minutes earlier.

“I know this is surprising and hardly the norm for us but think back over the years. If any of you can tell me one instance. Just an instance in which I’ve ever steered you wrong. One instance in which my foresight and acumen for evil hasn’t made us lots of money. Let the person speak now and I will immediately withdraw this motion.”

After softly drawling the above speech to the group the chairman lean back on his supple leather clad Lazy-boy and bowed his head as if in prayer. He knew the plan was on as indeed he had never once steered the cabal down the wrong path. He abruptly uncoiled his huge frame from the chair, gathered the papers on the vinyl topped desk in front of him and walked to the fireplace. As he dropped the documents and notes into the flames and watched them burn he could hear his members, his people behind shuffling up to shake his hand and also drop their notes in the fire.

It was time to alert The Enforcer and the others. Phase one should begin immediately…… Operation Thirst Quench was a go.


Josef has always had what you would call err…. a penchant for attracting trouble.

No, Josef has always had what his mother called a penchant for trouble, what Agatha Christie calls “a nose for it” and Sherlock Holmes, after a lot of scoffs, harrumphing and throat clearing would call pure undiluted talent.

Yes. Josef had always had an uncanny ability for hunting out clues, logically reaching conclusions, an unshakable belief on his hunches – which always turned out to be right – and the instinct of a bloodhound. In fact Josef is what you would call an investigative prodigy, if anything like that existed.

The only obstacle between Josef and the bright future so clearly waiting for him in the field of law enforcement and criminal castration was indeed the long time menace to the better offs, and the longer time foe of the downtrodden. Poverty. Josef came from a poverty stricken home and if the fact that his school fees was paid by the women’s guild, books bought by the men’s guild, what few clothes he possessed presented to him by the youth union and meager pocket money as provided by his church all resident in his village didn’t explain why he was determined to focus on his studies and get the best result possible from his course of study – Snailery – as selected by the tribal head of the said village then you’re a dummy.

Josef’s first inkling as to the existence of a problem had happened on a friday – of all days – he had a very strict dietary timetable which he had to rigidly adhere to. This timetable wasn’t prescribed by the doctors as it is for some of you sick and diseased fellows out there, nor was it suggested by a personal trainer as it is for those bloated and obese folks anxious to shed as much fat as possible. His meal schedule of bread and tea in the morning, pawpaw stolen from the school farm in the afternoon and garri and ground nut in the evening – all carefully measured out and weighed – was in fact necessary due to the fact that the total amount that he could afford to spend in an entire week was 200naira.

We have now succeeded in introducing the evil Cabal, input the Hero Josef who is talented, dirt poor and has so far managed to elude all traps and schemes as concocted by the farm manager of the fruit farm who found himself missing the biggest and juiciest of his pawpaw fruits when he came back each monday from the weekend.

It had been a very stressful day for Josef, well fridays were always stressful given the fact that he had back to back lectures from 8 in the morning to 6PM and as we all know, pawpaw can only take you so far. He had a plan though…. I had almost forgotten to mention that. Josef was in love with plans. He’s actually one of the few humans I know who make plans to plan and given my very elevated position let’s just say I know a lot of humans, about 6 billion I believe.


Lemme just talk true.

I actually started writing this story to lament the fact that I went to school today, was totally broke with just 10 bucks in my pocket and couldn’t get 5naira pure water to buy.

Yes… You’re right.

The complete title for the post is “The hunt for 5naira pure water”

And I don’t care how paranoid you think I am but there’s something amiss here. There’s a conspiracy to force us into buying bottled water by these vendors in my school. How I go trek round the full campus dying of thirst and be told that there’s no pure water? Here’s the kicker though. They all use the same exact phrase to introduce le bottled water. “Although there is bottled water available”

Even the old lady by the engineering faculty who understand not even a single word of english and you have to carry out your transaction by sign language suddenly could fluently tell me “Although there’s bottled water available” in perfect english.

I may or may not have gotten to yet another shop and be given the line “Although there’s bottled water available” and I may or may not have told the attendant to bring it in spite of the fact that I had just 10naira and I may or may not be phoneless now as my cell may or may not have been confiscated until I bring the 50naira I owe.

As I walked away in disgrace, I may or may not have vowed on all things holy – the Zobo at my junction, Okija shrine, the Ayelala chief priest’s staff, Sango’s headstone – well, all things holy to get to the bottom of this.

I probably won’t, but I just had to console myself.


Whips & Chains

The bite of the cowhide lash brought me out of my stupor with a jerk. Its stinging pain sharpening my groggy eyes which immediately looked around, frantically trying to ascertain my current coordinates and altitude and more importantly the source of this “sexual harassment” as the whip had being laid across my bare buttocks.

But all I could discern around me was a horde of white robe flaunting humanoids each holding a koboko which they flapped against the their not-so-white robes as they stared at me, swaying and slowly chanting in unison;

“This new year… no go craze again”

I was on a hard, cold cement floor. Legs attached by chains to a bolt in the ground and hands hog-tied with my belt; the last piece of my clothing left on me.

One of them wearing a yellow sash, long tufts of grey hair sticking out of his ears and sporting almost waist-length dreadlocks, shoved a large clock almost up my nostrils and said: “Na just 15 minutes for us to enter 2013. No worries Jah Almighty go don heal you by then!”

As high priest ‘Ear-Hair’ dropped the clock by my face, raised his koboko and stepped backwards to carefully place one stroke across my nether regions, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Is this hell?”

This last thing I could remember was hanging out with my new friends across the street. I had come to Benin to visit my aunt for the New Year celebrations and it hadn’t taken up to a week for me to discover like-minded boys in the vicinity. We had being chilling in Nnamdi’s house since his parents were out of town and finally after days of continuous arguments, Hakeem had come through! The “Ukwani Igbo” was now available for me to prove my LasGidi bred prowess in smoking weed.


This woman’s scream was the combination of a Banshee’s shriek and an Elephant’s labour trumpeting. And it was always a precursor to a flogging spree. I managed to attract the attention of high priest ‘Ear-Hair’ before they started the chanting and flogging, and struggled to push the words out of my chapped lips “Oga abeg, I no dey craze”

Before he could reply, the banshee/severely constipated elephant woman screamed once more and blows began to rain on me again. I managed to get a glimpse at the clock in between my screams and pleas for mercy and it was 10 minutes to “Happy New Year!”

In retrospect, being in Nnamdi’s house wasn’t the last thing I could remember. The actual last thing I could remember was bathing in the mud puddle in front of the community market, after proving my worth to those dull Benin boys and walking out of the compound with my Gidi swag down to the market to meet my aunt, a series of weird things had begun to occur. First, for some unknown reason my voice sounded like that of Enya – high pitched as fuck, my head felt as big as the overripe water melon the Aboki in my street junction always trying to sell to me and boy, was I hot!

I was virtually on fire!!

So I decided to do away with those restrictive clothing and take a dip in the cool and inviting flood water on the street. On second thought I can begin to see where things had gone wrong:

I may or may not have entertained my “audience” of little children with very committed and passionate Azonto dancing.

I may or may not have invited a beautiful girl passing by to join me in my “Jacuzzi” and,

I may or may not have… on second thoughts never mind.

For a second time this New Year’s Eve I was shocked out of my trance-like state. This time with a bucket of ice cold water… in this Harmattan? According to the clock, it was now 7 minutes to the New Year and the horde were getting set for what I think was the final exorcism of the demon in me.

My mind once again went back to my actions of some hours earlier, I had really in the words of any unknown but very profound poet “shat the pooch”. It wasn’t that bad though, I just hoped aunty had conveniently forgotten to mention this to my parents. After all, the worst I had actually done was… to stumble on High priest Ear-Hair and two members of his congregation trying to discreetly move a corpse out of their temple.


Things made far more sense now. How the hell am I supposed to get out of this?
Beg and grovel?

The pungent odour of fuel filled my nostrils and I opened my eyes for the third time to find one of them standing over me with a receptacle apparently filled with the incendiary. High priest Ear-Hair threw me a look which contained a ting of regret, a wallop of pain and for some strange reason a hint of excitement and gleam of anticipation as he nodded for the man to begin dousing me with the fuel.

He finally deigned to speak to me for the second time, “My boy 2013 don reach oh, Happy New year! You get new year resolutions?”

As I closed my eyes and settled down to wait for the inevitable ripping sound of the match stick striking, my thoughts were simple; a New Year was supposed to be a chance at a better life, an opportunity to make a change and do things better. And what was coming, was obviously a big life change. If I had a chance to do it again, I so would not have stepped into Benin.

The match-stick scratched through the rough side bar and the phosphorus ignited with a whoosh. I opened my eyes for the last time, glared at high priest Ear-hair and happily announced in the best English accent I could muster;

Happy New Year Plonker!


The Director just had to ruin the moment….


*First posted on The Urbane Mix


On the wings of eagles and scales of serpents.

On the wings of eagles and scales of serpents.

A Story of the British Invasion of The Great Benin Kingdom.


I glared into his eyes, this hateful white pig that had come into my home, my beautiful city and in less than 2 days reduced it to rubbles. It still amazed me how they had sacked my beloved city with frightful precision and mindless ruthlessness. Was it not this same white people that had sent the yellow robed priest to my king? That smelly man who had ranted and raved about animal sacrifices and human sacrifices….in short, all types of sacrifices. I wonder how he would justify the lives of my people that have being sacrificed to their gods today.

They just stood there staring at us, glaring with hungry eyes at the young and supple girls in Omo N’Oba’s harem, daring us to make a move.

In my mind I could feel that this was it. I had trained my whole life for this day. Prepared my heart and soul for the day I would have to make the ultimate sacrifice. Lay down my life for Omo N’Oba.

But I had always dreamed it would have a great effect, maybe even change the course of our destiny as a people. I dreamed that my name would be sang through all the villages of the kingdom, epic songs of bravery and courage in honour of the warrior who had given his life for the Divine King.

There were just three things wrong with that dream now. The first was that there were no longer any villagers to sing my praises; the second was that I was going to die here and these white pigs were going to capture my Oba and defile his Olori as they had done to the commoners in the town square. Even more disheartening was that I knew I would be unable to strike them before they killed me with those oh so wonderful fire-sticks they used with fatal precision. If only we had those when we went to war against those infidels at Ida, my brother Obaretin would be alive today.

Very slowly I dropped my short throwing spear; it was obviously of no use now. Slowly still I withdrew my left arm from the strap of my leather shield. A strong man with a well balanced spear could pierce it talk more of the dreadful fire-stick. Like father had taught me, I continued smiling, staring at the white pig’s face. Intentionally, I ignored the horde around him and continued staring at his face, smiling to conceal the turmoil in my mind and the ache in my heart.

The wind whistled gently through the forest, bringing a breath of fresh air to my face. Nearby, a bird chirped in a nest amongst the Irokos and my heart was filled with nostalgia. Longing for the days when father had instructed me in the ways of the warrior, longing for that special time when we had taken a trip to the Sacred Hills at. Udo. Just father, Obaretin and I. But now they were gone. Obaretin forever lost at the bloodsoaked hills of Ida and father, just an old man struck down in his hut by the white devil. This incarnate of pig dung.

I could tell they were getting restless and I couldn’t help but smile wider, I will not let you rush me to my death, I thought. I will die in my own time and definitely at my own pace. I smelled them from 60 spears-length afar, already celebrating and congratulating themselves for their capture of my Divine King. Surely they were doing this for some sort of profane reward. But all I cared about was taking the white demon with me when I died.

It went against the entire fabric of my being and grain of my existence for Omo N’Oba to be taken while there was still breath in my lungs. I had not sworn to protect the him, I had sworn to die for him, and today, Esu had come to collect his prize, the spoils of war.

There was a crash and thunder and I could feel it in my bones, this was the moment. Sango had dictated, and who was I but his warrior? I had to obey!

I turned to my king and stared at him. We had come a long way together. First as little boys and then as trainees, initiates into the warriors’ ways and finally at the death of his glorious father he had chosen me as the head of the royal guard. The highest honor to ever be bestowed on a warrior from my village.

He gazed into my eyes for a little while and nodded. As a man of war, he understood what had to be done, but as a kindhearted king he knew the futility of the gesture and almost rebelled against it. I sighed with relief when he nodded once again and looked away. Omo N’Oba wasn’t going to dishonor me with an order to stand down.

On the wings of eagles and scales of serpents, my breath misted in the cool evening breeze, I could feel the blood of my ancestors coursing through my veins, and I could hear the drums of Sango pounding in my head, a beat of courage and death. The dance of the dying ones it was called, a song of pain heard only by chosen ones – a sure precursor of blood and gore.

My sword made a zing as I drew it out of its sheath, I saw the white pigs stand straight and lift their fire-sticks. They were in for a surprise. I had one thing other warriors they had fought didn’t, the blessing of Sango – having being struck by a lightning when I was twelve.

With one last look at the sky I flexed my sword arm and launched myself at them screaming my battle cry at the top of my lungs;


Domo Arigato!!-*in Brymo’s Voice*

‘Tis the season to be jolly, people!

*dusts shoulders*

Were you expecting someone else? Yels itz me, in the flesh!

This here today was written under duress folks! Itz the Ramblings of an effing high niccuh with a slightly crooked approach to life.

Of cos my approach to life is slightly crooked, are we not Nigerians after all?

**DJ now slamming: Ice-prince: thank you**

“Awon fyn boys, looking for a fyn gehs”

“*thansk yhu*”

This one here is a “sperra shalla” to all the dudes and dudettes out there that are the numerous source of motivation to me!

Thansh you!

I know wah you’re thinking: itz the end of the year and it gonna be one of ’em mushy post’s, where I “thanks” my family and amazing friends n what not…..naa, way too early for that. When I’ve being on this blogging shii for more than a year, No worry. I go thank una wella!

Todae’s “thansk you” is directed at a special group of peepz….lemme expatiate!

To all them girls, those I’ve toasted and that have made me feel like crap! ( By not being overwhelmed by my awesomeness I mean), I say thansk yhu
»»»….you’re just one another line on the very long list of reasons I’m gonna be on Forbes list in the next forty years! ( check my memopad, actually there).

To all ’em gals who friend-zoned me for no just cause! did I say I wanna be your friend?! You just look me up and down begin think say I’ll make a wonderful bestie? *Thunder fire you*

»»»sowie…….thank you!

To all them niccuhs who, by no fault of theirs, just happen to have more swag, more followers on Twitter*lolz* – and more importantly more money – than me, I say thansh you. By now una suppose don code say I be hater. Bro no be your fault oo, buh you’re still a very strong motivation. When I don get money eh,

»»» I go bloody! I’ll be like Captain America with a 12 inch D! Cool, calm, collected and without an ounce of fuck to be given out or wait – I’ll defo be James bond with the cool suits. Ruthless mofo!! Or maybe Mandela with a Cape on, Chocolate killing Vanilla with a theme song. Yea, I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself if you don’t act right. Yea….you know yourself.

Hold up, let’s not get too emotional. Lemme give you niccuhs a piece of very sound and mutated advice. You know those awkward moments when she ain’t acting right, or those more awkward ones when she dey use you play? Or the even most awkward one when you’re being oppressed and set on the path of depression by some more bucksed up niccuh?

Yea….those ones. Well don’t wallow. Get angry. Its one more reason why you gatz be bucksed up in life. One one reason why you’ve gatz haff a Rolls Royce Phantom; please tell me you’ve seen the new Range Rover stretch! One more reason why you should get to the level wey you get the chiques n the P without even trying. Just imagine youreself, being chased down the Hollywood boulevard by a horde of pretty models and wanna-be’s. Lie and say you haven’t had that fantasy na!



Obviously you need more Alomo to loosen up

Some of ya may think of this as being weak and shallow….I assure you, IT IS!!. You expect me to be motivated by charity and philantropy n those kinda shii?


Cool story tho’

If you’re one of them people, then I’m impressed, it shows that you still gat an aorta of human decency in your veins.

Emi?……Ko sii!

I’ve since learnt that humans are motivated by very funny reasons. I chose to be motivated by the slights: so called slights, and even the imaginary slights directed to me by people.

You can be a youth, young adult, old adult, near death adult, even dead people are even slighted by other dead people. Why else do you think ancient Egyptians buried their dead with lotta gold n precious stones? Na so that some stupid yahoo boys no go fall their hand in the after life jwo!

Lemme continue with my appreciation sef
To all them dudes who make me doubt meself….Lemme explain well. You know wen you don dress for class finish, looking trendy and fly, with your 1500 jeans, 900h tee-shirt and 4k shoes and you finally enter skul only to see some guy that looks so cool that he makes you feel like crap? *you see wah I did there? C-n-C?*

Yea…thatz wah I’m talking about.

Well to all them dudes like that, you’re exactly the reason why I’m gonna haff 250 very expensive, very original pairs of shoes in my very large and very extravagant closet and…..

wait for it…..

»»»»»»» never wear one of them!

Gbam! You didn’t see that coming, did you??

I no go wear any single one of them. They will be for my viewing pleasure,-I’ll be like that Silas Marner niccuh with his bags of gold- and I go use them score too 😀


I can’t laff on my blog post again?

Go look bush….or munch on one if you prefer

Lemme tell you a story( not mine tho’; heard it frm a friend, who heard it from a friend). Anyway amma act as tho’ the story is mine sha.


You can’t do nuffin bout it!

So sit back and continue reading


…..So I went to a club on a very nice faithfully “everywhere good” Christmas Eve.
No worries brah! Your niccuh was bucksd up!
Had me like 10gees in my pocket and I was feeling cool.

The night was one ’em cool night where you just had to remember them BEP song ” I’ve gat a feeling, that tonight’s gonna be a good nite….”

Any ways, we went to a bar first of all: me, two dudes of mine and two gehs.
Sharrap joorr…nuffin pervy was going on. I was in it to get drunk, nuffin else. Not especially to score.
So any ways after a vey nice time in the bar, niccuhs were feeling high and girls just a wee bit tipsyso we decided to adjourn to a nearby club.
*At this point, lemme insert that this was the night I decided on my life’s motto; Any which way na way……as long as it brings the cheddah in*
Any way….no be wen we reach club gate wahala enter?

‘Twuz 12:32 and obviously there was no cab or nuffin to enter, so me and my niccuhs logically decided to make use of the next available resource: keke.

*dont judge*

You weren’t there.

Fuck! I hate niccuhz who judge!!

We got to our first port of call….well we didn’t actually get to “call” there. As soon as the keke slowed down in front of the club, the bouncers at the gate start to laff, Wah came outta them mouths I will neva forget in my life. ” Keke abi!….hehehe….no just bother stop oo”

Well,we didn’t.

You still think I’m shallow?

Movin’ on. After our not so welcoming welcome at the first port of “call”, we decided to try somewhere else. Mehn, twuz like lucifer had it in for us that day oo, see fallin’ hand everywhere! When we got to the next club the following ensued;

The gate was packed full, with many lame niccuhs and gehs tryna get in. Since I was pretty sure of meself and still gat approximately 8k left I felt rili good about my prospects of getting in.we walked up to the bouncers with puffed up chest and wildly beating hearts.

    Two gehs with us: check. You can go in
    My “fair in complexion niccuh”: check
    Me…(Lemme not blow my trumpet): check
    My rili cool and awesome dark ajebo ni kneggar? Hell no

The bouncer decided he didn’t like the look of he’s face, and since we didn’t come in a Range Rover, Camry, Lexus or onna ’em cool cars, he actually had the right to make that call. To cut the story wey still long for front short, we spend pass 2 hours dey beg this guy oo. Up till now I’m not still sure why he wouldn’t let him in. Maybe he was intimidated by your awesomely awesomeness mahn. I know you’re reading this…..korrect guy!

Anyway, while we were outside begging the bouncer to let our guy in, the 2 girls had managed to disappear and reappear on the balcony above us like one of the other “cool peepz” sympathizing on our plight

*comment reserved*


After 2 hours of pleading, the bouncer plonker finally let my dude in oo.
We hooked up with our companions and set course for a fun night….

Funny thing is now wey I don reach the moral of my story, I don tire to type sef. Lemme try and finish the story sha….when we enter the club ehn….see oppression everywhere.

Me and my niccuhs manage “gather” buy one bottle of hennessy, bought some soft drinks for the ladies to mix them shii and we were feeling cool.

Next thing we hear, the DJ that was jamming me deaf before started pum pum pum……you get? As if queen of England show.

Pumph phump phump…..then I see one junky-like looking local boy stroll past me towards the VIP section,with his wallet in his hand,cigarette in his dry lips, 2 tush looking cream chicks on either side of him and finally a waiter trekking behind him with two bottles of Nuvo!

And You say make I no pursue money?

    Sango the god of Thunder punish you gan!
    May olukun shrink your penis ni and make it Wither!
    Ebo fie ekun leluwe!
    Or just simply drink cement and die!

Sowie for my outburst once again; thansk yhu


Mehn that was the sound we heard all night oooh. No be small tin ma mehn….pumph pumph pumh….there goes another bottle of nuvo towards the vip…..God punish devil for my life.

Shey you’ve heard the proverb “seize the divine opportunity?” Well peepz….there’s no such thing as a “divine opportunity”. you gatz make it for your self ooh. Rick Riordan said that “Fairness is when everybody gets what they want, and if you want life to be fair to you, you gatz go out there and take it”.

Be proactive. Speaking as one of those hustling for the 2:1 CGPA, if thatz wah you know will help you, make it happen! If na music you feel will make the money for you, mehn pursue it…..if na football, *abeg I fit be president of your fan club wen you don blow?* Even if na blood money……..

*judgement reserved once again*

Abeg who know where I fit join Illuminati?

Mehn I can’t feel the buzz no more, where the hell is the mofo’n waiter na?!

Lemme just go to the bar myself joor buh if I don’t properly mention such actual “Proper” motivations in my life then I’m #Losing!
First of my big bruhs, Korolle, Aigee, Aikay, Ozedy and @NegroDankaro….just a glimpse at yousa tells me I gatta be my best!

At my real niccuhz, partners in the hustle for academic excellence, @Shittuspringus, Kul_Fm, el-pynoh, @Atere10 (study partner ni)…..menh una too much, no worry, we go soon graduate. Five years no be beans!

At my Editors and partners in all this writer bizness we carry for head,@itzEDK, @tshyka and @oVunderkind, lemme be honest, wen I see stuffz you guys write, makes me strive to write berrah.

Once again, to all them girls, those I’ve toasted and that have made me feel like organic fertilizer! ( By underestimating my potential for success) I say thansk yhu….you’re just one more page on a very large ledger of reasons why when I’m president, I’ll make all the gehs shave their heads and outlaw the use of make-up!

And err….I FINALLY got to win an award today from a “Toh Bahd” rated blogger for just being my awesome self.
Just clickhere to read

Thank you!!

Who else?

Of cos itz the naijadude!!

…..and so i renounced chivalry

As I stared in despair at the textbook on the desk, a funny quote I had heard earlier in the day popped into my head: “fuck education, I dey go learn work”. It wasn’t like I was dumb or didn’t understand the Crop physiology I was reading; it was just that the textbook was freaking large! It was just 3 days to the exam and I was just on page 23!

At times like these, I ascribed to the philosophies of the ‘little man and the big dude’; “Hakuna matata!” At that very moment some holier-than-thou preacher dude decided to come and disturb the little concentration I had been able to garner into tackling my academic chore. I decided to fuck it all and go outside for some fresh air and sight seeing. Call me a perv, but I kinda like looking at the many fine gehs who parade around faculty under the guise of reading when all they had actually come to do was, according to the Russian saying, ” to see and be seen.”

So here was your guy outside, jobless, cold and babeless (straight face); with the fact that I was ill prepared for my exam choking my mind. Let’s just say I wasn’t feeling fly.
So I said to myself: “Okkie mahn lemme just get my pee on and get my black arse into that motherfuckin’ class. I’m gonna fuck that CRS 511 in the ass. (No Homo!).” Ok, moving on…

Shey you guys know that corner for faculty na, where everybody… well almost everybody goes to pee?

Yea, that the place!

My bulging bladder emptied, I was about to go do my anal tai-chi (seriously, no homo :|) on the textbook when I heard a muffled scream. Now after years in Ekosodin, let’s just say I’m kinda adept at ignoring cries for help from fellow students (don’t look at me like that!). But I guess my crappiness had caused an engineered surge in my metabolic testosterone level which subsequently urged me to risk my life for a strange babe that I had no idea if she was beautiful or not… or should I say I just felt like fighting. Yes, I think this is a reasonable moment to let you in on the fact that I’m a green belt holder in karate *dusts shoulders*.

So I decided to put my hard earned skills to use and investigate the source of the scream. So I told myself: “stealth mode on!” And sneaked into the orchard, hoping to catch a glimpse of my contenders before I bit more than I could chew. After a few moments of sidling and sneak peeks, I finally located the damsel in distress. The tableau before me was straight outta a Bond movie, the one we all know so well…or maybe it was outta that extreme porn video clip I saw on pornhub. Kinda confusing tho’. Anyways, I saw two hefty guys… wait ooh, three hefty men trying to get their freak on with a non-responsive babe, and from the way she was dressed I knew she definitely didn’t ask for it.

“Hakuna matata,” I told meself…”aal izz well.” Talk about bringing a knife to a gun fight! I thought I should sneak back and alert the security men… not like I’m scared or nothing… I wasn’t you know… I just decided as a sure boy to go call security. I didn’t wanna get my faded night class jeans stained with blood. As I was about to sneak away, I realized that they were on the verge of accomplishing their mission; one of the dudes had hit her so hard on the head that she went limp. This definitely put a cramp on my plans. There was no longer time to go get the security men.

Once again, I shouted “Hakuna matata” in my head, stepped out from behind the tree I was hiding and calmly told them in the best British accent I could muster: “Unhand that lady now!!!”


Long story short, I woke up three days later in UBTH. I suppose you can deduce the subsequent proceedings of my rescue attempt.

PS: I’m too hungry to finish writing this story. Abeg, use the remaining part act film for your head, the illustration below would help…….and errmmm as to the English, you know the usual na!