I’m a good sister. I tagged along.
She met the lady in the guy’s home.
And just like that, the two babes
started a wrestle mania, while the idiot guy ran out.
Yes O, he ran out, leaving them to
their show of shame.
My sister was incensed that the
lady, not satisfied with sharing her sugarcane, dared and had the effrontery to
get pregnant for the guy.
Jeez! Some ladies are so stupid! Why
would any lady in her right senses get pregnant for a Casanova?
While the fight lasted, I stayed out
of harm’s way. I went back to my Papa’s house ojare!
When the invisible referee blew the
whistle, my sister came back home.
She was sporting a terrible black
eye. When I mentioned it, she smiled proudly and told me that I should go and
see what she did to the other babe.
Do you guys know the worst thing?
The guy had another babe stashed
somewhere…the cherished one…whom he finally got married to!
Are babes’ stupid or what?
Back to telling babes to hide inside
closet or under the bed. Sorry for the
digression of course.
So now, you finally show interest!
You now want to know why that guy
asked me to hide under the bed.
The guy started chasing me like a
dog in heat since my undergraduate days. But for reasons I don’t know, cupid
arrow simply refused to bite my arse!
No matter how much he professed his love or
every little he did to prove his love, something just didn’t click in my heart
for him.
Moreover, I was heartily in love
with someone else. We graduated and moved on with our lives. I bumped into him
one day at Ojota and it was catching up of all friends and campus life.
He asked for my home address. I gave
him. He started coming to pay visits. He even asked for my hand in marriage.
But honestly, my heart still refused
to dance for him. Another thing, the guy was too stingy.
Kai! I never see person wey stingy
reach that guy!
He had visited me several times and
most times when he asked for a return match, I always find excuses not to.
One day he asked again; I
reluctantly accepted. When I arrived, the first thing that hit my sight was the
picture of a lady on the top of the television.
Naturally, I asked. He said she was
his own flame. He bought me a bottle of malt. I was sipping the drink, when the
loud banging came.
He jumped like someone stung by a
bee.
I said to myself: “Sho! Na wetin dey do this bobo?”
He started begging and forcefully
started dragging me into the master’s bedroom, saying I should dive under the
bed and hide.
Thunder fire am!
Why should I hide? What crime have I
committed?
Of course, I didn’t need to be a rocket
scientist to know that for him, yawa don gas!
I could be very stubborn too. I said
No! No hiding for me! He knelt, begging like he was begging for a good balling.
You know how a guy used to beg when agro don hold him and he badly
needed to plunge into his babe’s warm crevices.
While all these theatrics was going
on, the volume of the banging on the door increased. I had a feeling the couple
had played this scene several times. That’s how womanisers operate.
I stubbornly sat down on the
cushioned settee I told you guys last week about. He finally went to open the
door.
I heard: “Ayo, kinolode ti o fe shile ekwu? Iwo ati tani lowa le…”
She was asking the question and
storming into the room. She sighted me. We stared coldly at each other. She
came and sat gingerly beside, she had already shown that she’s the lady of the
manor and the guy asking me to dive under the bed, proved she’s the chosen one.
She asked me: “Who are you?”
I replied in a huff: “What sort of
question is that?”
I carried my handbag, with my head
held high; I sailed out of their room, with my tattered pride dragging behind.
To cut to the chase here; I
got married, he got married. They had a baby, somehow, something happened,
leading to hospital and DNA and before you know it, the baby wasn’t Ayo’s.
They parted.
The shameless idiot had the
effrontery and temerity to come asking for my hand in marriage again.
Nawa O! I never see that kin thing before. He beg me like no
tomorrow to leave my husband.
Keep a date with us next week
08189679439…ebere20@gmail.com
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