In Everything is a story written by Saviour A. Willie and was published three years ago. Bible had unveil to us that whatsoever our hands findeth to do, we should diligently do it well to attract divine blessings. Please do well to comment after reading this story. The story contains 11, 542 word count.
In Everything _ Good Days Will Come
“My name is Ubangiji I am an ethnic Hausa Muslim from Kano state, born on 10 April 1957 into a well-to-do Muslim family. Inside me is my father, uku. We reside in Port Harcourt. Orhorwara'mother - of - pearl' died as an administrator of high status in armada. Bambatikoti, my father subsequently became bothered of me. later than my graduation day in Uniport. He service my success in methodical sexual brutality and coercion not in favored of women and girl and I became stunned. Ignominize.
I hate pink and wine-colored men
stuck-up in the axle of corrosion and shady nipple,
stupid and hassle, eff and blind. Men without je ne sais quoi. A jolted swagger even”.
1
In the swing of things I lean further the scavenge trail. I glimpse blistering conflagration burning titanic from colorless kaput pot. Disgusting whiff of pit latrine. Bambatikoti was the culex and anopheles dilemma inside my skull.
‘Wet_ting go craft me dey.... broke?’
Things were bumpy and hard-hitting in my life. Hard and precarious. fussy and disreputable. Dehydrating and Overheating. Creating childish distractions. Pleasures gave no prospect to facilitate my evolution. I had palpable hindsight consequential to penury and lot trauma. I wasn't bubonic but as a graduate I was in midst of coniferous forest where lives are trackdown by fur-bearing animals, hunters armed with modern automatic rifles, where the rewards are impoverished if the 'harvest' are bad. It was an ignominy I wasn't investing treasures. And wither; my primary schema was speaking matrimony. In keenness of, bambatikoti's voice hound in dark tumult! He seldom stifle and sooth in the vein of a duck
Last night rain in the morning, fen had letter to submit in firm twigs. However, Prior to reaching this time juddering I'd walk numerous firm twigs for employment - no single panacea and I remember before any boss give you work you must past your interview. Equally speaking I was interviewed and asked to revisit the firm if my phone rang but for years now I haven’t receive data. Over and over again, I'd snivel and lying face down to prayer, it seems things are getting worst. My colleagues having turn sharply have turn out-of-the-way unto vainglory and worthless babbling becoming
Tax collectors.
Dogmatic men moochers.
Perjured sorcerers.
Injunction Patrollers
And unadulterated inventive writers.
Extremely, I recall mama's occurrence and how apparition she'd labored to boost my caliber but my hidden was horrific of cruel and moped. In retrospect, I sense I was off beam. Professor Illabuchi reawakens me to free lethargy idleness. And I didn’t. Laziness has wrapped my pride. Orhorwara make younger of me to learn craft. And I assumed bambatikoti's wealth will nourish me forever.
Across the length, I was chloroformed but boulder cracker crippling the rivalry. I wanted miseries and chaffs of machination to reaped out of me lethargy laziness and because bambatikoti was gashed realizing I’d miss the brittle terra firma; where scoundrels sneeze. He quickly phoned indentured bureaucrat over the territory at pinnacle and likely within seconds I was chained over my cadaver stock-still and was taken into the van were custodian are and kept on shahada chaise longue.
Inside the van anger in me was at hundred atmospheric stress and some chocoholic black servers wrinkled in queues. I wanted chundering like the tongue of a sucking kid cleaved to the crown of his mouth for dehydration and at jolted swagger I heaped like ostrich frowned in spite that my lips are conserved and didn't think for a time of anyone clawing my back. I was served as head child. Howbeit I be worthy of it. It was local bouillabaisse and airy bottles of drink. Changeable fu-fu found a way to my table later than I’d arrange my back on shahada chaise longue. My dribble was splitting out like a slow-moving brook and within me senses of machination of hearing were out on blue. Just envision bambatikoti thrust to my sit to baloney my long-batted ear like cross legging but I turn non-living element. I stretch out my head over shelf to pick out a mirror. My face was bright and dim engulf my tongue as I found wearing great many legs and bambatikoti was seen in an old ramshackle dumped precinct where cob webs hung on frozen windows. I know I weren't a prisoner so I stretch out my leg feeling relaxation but subvert, some tangible prisoners were shouting and contraventing scanty bottles all over the van "" some spoke out evidence and non could prove their innocent, Including the leader of the pack - hanged and my mind became down trodden, so surprised. After I had finish cupping my gorge with water I sprung my hand to reach out for bambatikoti and another voice behind me startle. I squash my face betwixt the door to spot whose voice was startling. Van was highly speeding up the highway. A man's head looking dorsally I saw. An exact description of pagoda. It was aromatic and chromatic, bizzare and convoluted. I got into a terrible rage and wanted shifting but my shackle foot slammed over the Jacky carapace. A collision of shaitan was rustling my wrist so I began wobbling.
"Can a graduate like me be in jailbird?"
Forthwith after last trump great buzzing there was an extreme brightening of the night sky by street light I sneezed back my gorge and bambatikoti towering from his self incurred plight catapulted a bewailing mime and the pagoda beset.
The van had a break, and a ring of diamonds and rubies felt on a belted rivulet. He and I struggle out the doorframe and screech - the air glitter and the palm tree stood upright in the sun while the van moved in ascension and bye and bye we wave our hands.
"Everything will springs wealth good days will come".
Bambatikoti was singing pleasurably, strip of sun began to sink and we could take Atilogwu, bata, ekombi and Gada walk to our home to and join our siblings. His winged friend was a great chattering and laughing. And suddenly great amalgamation, strict horror conveyed the land and ray of light trivially passed through surmountable chirp confronting us. Hairless. I thought it twice "inestimable times" if I reach home money will block up my barrel. Bambatikoti cut-off and across the rivulet were dirt aroma stinking but I stick my tongue elsewhere. Bambatikoti would always say: marriage is the final decision man's take heartily but money is first chore - everyone escape doing. Partner with wealth and you will be rich forever. Predict, I can't endangered myself by possibility of crocodiles risking life’s in waste. At times, I will feel badly disorganized and I'd rather agree to join street huggers instead of my B.sc degree lavishing in dusty isotherm - half bread is better than none. I never knew what bambatikoti was short listing me was to join prostitution engineering so I became aggressive and steadfastly offensive in contemplation and my hands clap-found on air.
"Must bambatikoti be mad?" linger.
"Do I look like unremarkable virgin?"
"Why should bambatikoti be sounding foul and worrying".
In retrospect, I know it my burden ~ right from time orhorwara has warn me to be charge, focus and give attention to my study and stopped patting frivolous girls and will full-trust myself on bambatikoti's riches.
Hardly ever bambatikoti want me corrupt. He ate me. I mean news are unscarced on air. How can I wreath my sanctuary with a diva, an unpronounced temple doddering like blubbers of a running pregnant pug; How can I transgress against my own body concealing heavens ideology. I know holding all this pains down here in my heart isn't advisable. It's precarious. I'd only ogle at the glistening auburn hair winding up softly before falling in curly bun on his broad shoulders concealed in ivory apparel and a coral jasmine.
Strip my shirt and bambatikoti thought i was halve. I began air-scaping my tone of voice and it singed through many ears like waves. I know the whole subject of prostitution is full of ambiguity and hypocrisies. I know it is the business - wrong practice of engaging in sexual activity. I know it is the systematic sexual violence and oppression against women and girls but I can't admit it - for I am a circumcision, which worship God in the spirit, and express joy in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in soft tissue. I began mentioning zonal location this shouldn't be tolerated. Bambatikoti jovially frown and likewise marvel ‘Are you mad?’ T’hen I shelter my ear as if it struck me to rub babe and set out in search of adventures. Bambatikoti's eye became amplify and ears make bigger to listen all I could say. Alright, all I could say was to maltreat prostitution.
"What! How dare you?" Bambatikoti.
2
My people I know prostitution is a business of engaging in sexual activity in exchange for payment and is full of ambiguity and hypocrisies but that shouldn't thrust to tell it's good girls born of women should wax-naked themselves all-nights and men that will scurry by will be ache. Who will see an ugly fly ragamuffin and pass without killing it. "fixation" What about men, brawling women, won't they get frustrated. Bare girls should be buy slaves and shouldn't enjoy dark streets on night; they shouldn't be put riding men's heart with theirsqualoring lips and cussing eyes. This are the things rule should frowned at and not closing down stores where unemployed workers manage to supply changes in their children's academicals life. Why should we be dancing inn club on night. Can't it be hold on day time. It's weird what doses’ thou over there isn't fair - always black and filthy. I know that worldly musicians laying ins and outs behind the hill up city's rear will team up. I know rich blood men: will espouse their eyes and tongue for seduct. HIV export will click and if any man penetrate a friendship it'll broadcast………. You got HIV. You got death. I got Prevention. I got life.
Where are the department of state services - if they are the primary intelligence agency of Nigeria.
Where are the independent corrupt practices and other related offences commission that was established with the mandate to eliminate corruption in public life.
If we fight against corruption; it shouldn't be inverted. Women nakedness should be covered and frowned if not two thousand and thirty Nigeria will be overbad. How will old women and men be leaving their houses, telling their children they have night duty in office while they have a barbecue outwaited. Because they want going out with balustrade babes, LGBT girls and daughter's of eve babes whoes fingers look like witches and wizards and faces becoming Satanic identification number, Satan poster card (SPC) and affliction canal member (ACM). If our street is corrupt, our schools corrupt, our churches corrupt, our offices corrupt how will future leaders be raised, how will they come to existence or how will they condoles cases in peace. Little boys carrying guns in many countries today are fraudsters already. Young girls kissing old mens lips are prostituted. Those men stealing and kidnapping daughter's of Jerusalem are false preachers. Those that propagate: we use money to get money can delved into ritualist or murder. Those ceasing government budget or properties into their own account are learning how to be traffickers. Hard drugs explorers behaving nonchalant are betraytors. Those discriminating female sense organ with condom are bad influence to the society. Those fudging good names for their ministry while they got power from ritual pot are destiny's destroyer.
Prostitution must be stop. It should be a frowning sin and not self welcomed sin. We announces, publicizes on radio's, tele-stations that men should stop hugging women’s head in Ghana must go, that women should stop hugging men's head in their shoes calabash. Yet, it increases, that tells me - Are rule playing their roles. Are they telling me they haven't seen all this mishappening? Haven't they aware that sugar daddy's are swallowing their own lovers. Haven't they seen that sugar mummy's are changing snakes overnight, are eating their private part.
Girl went out on night with her ex daddy's for one billion cash and after the night she came back to her hostel and before sleep's her left breast had disappeared. She died and died self blame.
Those involved in this formidable scene of discriminating women’s awful night and men's Kipling night won't they let clear minded ones put stop. They prefer killing themselves. That is why we keep publicizing corruption not in my country but they re-emphasizes corruption is in their country.
We are Nigerians. The world recognizes us as great giant of Africa. As unique Personnel. As unique Masses. We should've be the one influencing others how positive we should enroll and not them teaching us. We suppose to be leaders and not slavers. Foreigners love our culture but we don't. Our great mothers carried us on their womb for nine complete month before delivery. Why should we be daughter's of eve. Men of adam apples. Why should we be letting men rudder hands inside our private part. Even if they touches your clitoris you maintain silence. Why?. Why can't your voice be louder than they?. Why should you be letting women playlaugh with your penis. Why should their hand link to your website - the testicles. Christians don't do this except they aren't a true one. Been a pastor or an evangelist can't make you a christian. What makes you a christian is repentance. Those boys that will give you piginnames can't they see you're different.
my sugar in the sky
my butter from lace
my only abandon heart
my all in all
and you smile, you appreciate, andliken.
~
Corruption is not in my country. Bambatikoti shouldn't be in support of this. I've seen parents that will be obliging their daughter's to marry blood money mutineers because of riches. Give your children to who are God fearing, who aren't thieves and ritualist.
*
Bambatikoti want imitation. I must imitate his character. His beautiful and ugly character. There was an inscription rubbed over his face speaking itanife. I know it is the story of love and that's why folks of prostitution is ruddering a paddle in his eye's. Sometimes I would be wondering if possible I can make wealth out of this and sometimes I would get ignored from my conscience. Can my glory be quite different from his; I know Ichabod has departed. Blood can be blood but am sure attitude can't - despite how fluent I neglect to refrain indolence. I know bambatikoti is right but am doubting. In this condition there's no means I can have wealth without proposing to bambatikoti desire. Out there my friends are progressive - having led out of poverty. Am dumbfounded. Perhaps; How can I trod over churchyard as my friends car drove by? Even I. Even I. Even I(sigh).
Oneday, He invited me to his guestroom and I left all doing went to meet him. I led no complaint from the start but bambatikoti's face becoming initial was a smile. Notwithstanding a car was behind me, huge and colorful but I must asked - bambatikoti how come this money; how could you buy such a car when am at floodplain (I creak on the car it echoed a noise). Bambatikoti want to persuade me to accept his policies that's why he giggle. I almost remove my tended belt set in girdles and felt the giddy heights of hit-squadding him but I remember he's my first and my father. Betraying him even if he refuse to commiserate, isn't the best so I claimed to be calm and give ear to his eerie livelihood and so called respond. Bambatikoti moved with passion and said "My son, I once told you how I use to earn money. Why are you always trouble? This car, beside you was given to me several years ago as an awarded manager of prostitution industry but I refuse to let you know, I didn't want you heist I wanted you to enjoy the little cash I had then". Just imagine bambatikoti said and remain silent. In me I was furious - I felt lacerated and strong feeling of hatred was mourning.
Orhorwara was a famous person - I still resound the tone of her memorial holocaust and I wished I could see her sepulcher so I can tell her all this.
Bambatikoti was staring at me and I remember how lion watch night the forest when there's a prey. He moves to say "where is that idiot". Tears volunteered to sprinkled my cheek. I didn't bother to respond but I stood as pillar of salt. He hitted my chest thrice and lend on my hands indescribable millions - big bucks only if I'd anticipate his policy. The guestroom was a loud peal of pains and hot ache and was moving oscillatorily. "What must I do to reject this money; millions for that matter" I guest and remain unmovable. Taiwo was outside long-peeping his eyes. Makanjuola was inside the toilet reading novel. Mummy olamide was inside bedroom cleaning curtains.
Bambatikoti laugh - the house became hot. He frown - five lightening sparkled the roof. He scrammed - two wolves oblige the horizon. "What else will a beggar do?" I questioned myself.
I call myself a beggar because of my indolence. When sweet mother whom many are looking looking for today was coaching me to refrain indolence, to stop patting girls on their back I felt pompous and look down on her. I never knew idleness was pealing my wealth. After all this consideration, yes stood in-between the pivot of my heart and bambatikoti was happy to see my hand shooked with his. He moved to peck.
On next: I and uku wored gorgeous suit. We dress with big big shoes followed by his lieutenant. The lieutenant was there to safeguard his car. I was expensive and for a girl to snog my lip she must be normal. I stick to that within my heart but I didn't allowed uku to know. Howbeit we move into the car and move the car. I began dribbling against my dimpled cheeks. Bambatikoti got to ask. Son, why drib?. I eke I shouldn't get idle, case over. No panicking. No shock. Getting to Rumueme bridge behind school of health college we veered driving towards Ignatius Ajuru university the day began to sink - sink and sink until it get darker. There was a pitfall at the branch. It was enclosed by a circular cult. Black devil and Black devil. I saw that on the banner. And I was asking papa like a child will ask his father for fish. Bambatikoti, what's that on the banner. Many cars behind us where languishing, hugely in common job io. It was a pitiable moment. Bambatikoti had nothing to say but to lured his lieutenant and we manage escape. He's being so capable incognito was the only pleasant thing about the whole dreadful day.
Like hot-dog we found ourselves inside the club. We move to the scenery and sat on wheel stool. The stool was like a vehicle transporting people to hell. I look on to papa's face dimple cheeks and fat thigh were ripening. He want to tell me something. Huge and severe. Rumple and roughly. But his voice is deeped inside his belly hiding on despair. Again he whisper "there is never a life darkened hopeless unblest, but this........". Son! I looked him. Bambatikoti what? I asked. I want to teach you how to handle a lady and get this done. "How possible is it" I asked. Ablaze. He answered and uncrop his hand beyond my hair. This was how he speaks:
All trader make a joke - quote them jokes. They'll laugh, utter smiles.
He finish addressing me and we move to the main scene.
"Something expensive is here" bambatikoti tapped me and I smile. "However,...... abnormal" I shook an look up to him.
We walk to a limit and separated "stay here a while I'll fetch you, a girl...." Said bambatikoti.
Hmmmm........... (I groaned and immersed my head across the check point).
As bambatikoti left, something aromatic was coming closer. Maybe. Uptown from glories.
"Hello!" She hails me
There was a gravitational skype escalating people to the next floor so I decided to flipped-round the boo. I didn't know she followed me up. It was when I wanted to phone Taiwo - my house help to locate B.P with his bus. It when I saw her wearing kilt. 'Hi! I became fresh. You once hail me. I said to her and stand erect. OH! You look handsome. she twisted her neck. You look pretty too, I refund. Am shanti and you? I look behind, bambatikoti wasn't there so I fastly quench the tongue. My name is ubangiji - Are you working here?. Her face rises above the chariot fancying her physique. No, money brought me here, she responded.
I remembered what bambatikoti said
But I didn't say that - we were just discussing. Everything we exchange sounds pleasurable. I was conceived to say she is normal so I shared my address with her and ask for her phone number which she did.
Bambatikoti arrived after shanti had left with an abnormal girl wearing lowered kilt. Though she had a beautiful color in his eyes and am sure it isn't isn't in mine.
"Son,.....this is your's - take her, take a look at her" said bambatikoti.
"Wow! You mean this is mine? I mopped my perspiring face with a handkerchief.
"That's exactly your size" said uku.
(I cleared my throat) you don't mean it".
You have to manage this one first, after now and here after you'll get another. He said and grip some grunge away. I started crumbling making myself perturb and the dating girl was up and doing. Must I take her. My voice' faceoff, an obvious and embarrassing mistake. At this time I notice her facial express-bill had nullified. Her rusty and darkened accents ripped out like knuckles of transquility.
'Happier to meet youo.....u'.
She greeted me and I didn't know how to dauntlessly interpret her accents. I thought it mad. But I tried catching up the funny-tongue and I remember that a word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver. An impulse. Fortunately, it was the language-english she wanted me hearing inspite of her vivid obstacles.
"Happy to meet you"
I don't know if she thought speaking accents could be heard by many. Of course, I was led.
'Happy to meet you too' that's how my voice went intonating and my hand shooked in hers.
"Buma Buma! what about you?
I was looking the roof top and wondering if we'd met before so to relent. As she normally speaks - the accent inside her was a dunghill.
"My name is Shadow"
I fabricate and remain unsaid.
Actually, I didn't like her - her rough accents was a buzzing petrel an can disgrace me Infront of multitude. But I just hope she'll soon begone.
Tell me (she clobbered) that man that left is he your father? She said with her hands on my shoulder.
What's wrong with that? I frown.
Nothing Nothing Nothing I wanted knowing. She clattered - a clock rang.
Breeding cat with long hair, short legs and a round face moved quickly into a dim bijou residence.
Know by yourself - not me you'll gossip. I resend and stood chill
Sorry.........sorry" she apologized.
You know I hate people smelling, begging me to love them, asking me for friendship, I hate when they speak rough accents. Behind I hate her. I wanted leaving but she held me back and stood confronted.
You won't just leave like that.
She said and I gaze at her it look annoying. What do you mean? I frown as never before. Look how this environment is (she unlace my shirts) - Everyone are celebrating love - atleast show yours.
What love are you talking about? I questioned her.
Stop asking me such question. You know the kind of love am talking about. What brought you here was to rape a lady isn't it! Then go on, go on and rape me, snog me.
God forbid. I only came as an escort to my father and not to do such.
I delved my hands into my pocket as she keep threatening. I will shout! I will shout! if you divert. I can't consent. I keep ringing while loitering in silence.
You must or I'll force you to do it.
Obviously I realise that shanti is more better than buma, she was just abnormal. Our discussion linger. I stood there for some seconds before I react to her collection.
I moved by pretends, flirting an flailing my arms and her face return in laughter. But each time she try to snog me I'll use my hand to engulf her mouth.
Her voice will move for ejaculation and I'll enjoins too just to make her look chill. Marvel.
I came to understand that if you sleep with them you are not earning money from them but from you. And the reason why uku enforce me to join this Industry is because if I managed to sleep five girls a day and pay them; such amount is going back to his wallet. He'd be the one to pay them. But I had no money with me. And she was at pant for bread.
We started strolling over the floor until we delved into a foresight edge where bundles of money skip eyes. Buma was unconscious and self-pneumatic. All I could do was to sit her down on a chair and moved to pick the money. I pick the money and we shared it equal. And she wave her hand on me telling me cheerio.
Later, He came - I discussed all with him but I refuse to show him the money. All he could say was "
How fa - Have you make a move?
Because I have spoke two girls I said yes. Smart boy. That's how he describe me.
I claim I was smart and taught after a business like this bambatikoti will pay me but all he could do was to say let's go home. I wish I was deaf it'd have being better than this. Anyway, I nodded and moved in the car.
Inside the car I receive an alert sent by shanti. An inscription indeed.
It reads:
" I wish I could have you tonight - but love is not a smelling game - it is a precious gift, I missed you". She tag.
Yes! She's acting normal. I said to myself and switch off. Bambatikoti turn a face to me an ask "Son who was that and why are you crying?".
I never knew, from car rear bambatikoti was watching me and even, water is moving on my cheek. I said.
"Nothing, just a mere dream".
Bambatikoti smug and set by.
3
Monday morning as scheduled we move into the car and the car move us. Getting to Rumueme Bridge behind school of of health college we veered driving towards Ignatius Ajuru university the day began to sink - sink and sink until it get darker. There was no pitfall at the branch. It was not enclosed by circular cult. However our vehicle moved inaccordance to other vehicle behind and towards the club. He decided to pack the car at extreme but strange lieutenant who hint against his ordeal gave an ultimate injunction and bambatikoti had to dislocate the car to another.
We came down and moved to the dance floor where superficial musician were and some wealthy fans that knew bambatikoti came to welcome him. I was like a guard accompanying him with shaft. But I had another imminent thought. Something was telling me something will happen tonight.
Along the walk we separated as usual. Bambatikoti went to his office and I was left behind.
There was a huge plasma TV hung over the galaxy where footballers shown and many spinsters, bachelors, married, widow and widowers were uplooking! I got to cheer up myself. There was nothing I could do. Only to sit and watch, watch, shout goals when it shattered. My eyes sometimes will delved an depict buma's image and I'll try to dolge. Nobody will understand I'd just be acting as if my phone collapsed.
I decided to walk round the hall to check shanti's present. Along, buma trapped me talk and talk her lengthy skirt and all of a sudden shanti came and droved me away. I never thought such will happen but I was grateful. Nevertheless buma will be insearch of me and she won't see me.
We walk to an extent inside the club and after I had finish discussing with her quack criminals bombed the air devastated with bullets. Everyone ran helter skelter looking for where to hide themselves. I don't Know about bambatikoti - he can magically save himself. They shut the air again and again - all entrance were polluted with missile. Rich men ran into oily hot cauldron but cauldron could not contain them. Some jump into the river and fishes refuse to swallow them. Some ran to bambatikoti and bambatikoti neglected them. "Gunshot Everywhere _ Gunshot Everywhere" They call police and police rejected the call. Many things that led to the destruction of the club happen. I and shanti manage to skip through the burning forest, we manage to run as faster as possible without a look at the back until we get to a narrow track seeming to be lens of miracle. The activity of going to night clubs became a disease. We ebbed out and scarpered until we arrived at university of Ajuru junction where we took a drop to Ibeto, Port Harcourt. This was where I had to to relieve her to go. While I travel to Lagos state to hustle. To make money. Cheap money. Though I had no where to lay my head except the little shop where boomerangs sleeps. Sometimes, my phone will ring but I would not pick. I know it He - violated tricker. I don't want him to know where I am. I want him to enjoy his Prostituted money.
I started by selling halal meat. All throughout the day I'll be wearing necklace and boiled trousers. I'd be accompanying market women with my wheel barrow to their homes and at month end they will pay me ransome.
I'll be fetching water in trucks to give people and they will pay me ten per each.
I will be knitting women's hair when damage while they'll pay me ransom. I continued in this saving aspect until I opened a shop and was selling sugar, tomato paste, macaroni, mowa water, spaghetti, ziza milk, dansa juice, Indomie noodles, etc. I was technically and economically earning fifty thousand each and was able to bandanna my culture. In the past, I remembered years have been spent and liquor of shareable penuries were lingered.
This assured me that I can still do better if I work hard. I decided to sell the shop to fashil an interested customer and took a flight with my visa to Canada to practice orchard farming - my interest laid back on Mediterranean fruit.
Over there, bambatikoti was a killjoy. Desperate how epitome of cool bandanna at nape of my breath lies. My phone had no rest. Minute on minute an alert will squawk..... I know it's never the boulder cracker - the flounder - the jet airways but bambatikoti that has dislodge life on me.
I struggle with perseverance I must get there inspite obstacle pitfalls stress and waffled. After my Long-term learning I got spy into agricultural produce. Canada became the toppest exploit in business administration. After whiles I decided to payvisit my country - a strip.
When I was 15 and 16 I was bad. Bad and tiny. Orhorwara was an equilibrium reinforcing me to detox smoking. I know it had always been my favorite. If I don't smoke I don't feel comfortable. He sometimes will try to put mouth so mama won't say he's a bad man. Nobody like it then more than me. I can swear nastily to backup my friend just to portray the cash. I was like news read everyday on newspaper. Cigar was my Jollof rice. Without it I would die.
Plane land me on Lagos field. The real city of Ikeja. The first ape that welcomed me was Papa followed by his hordes agent Making him look shivered. At this stage I was curious and disgusting I didn't expect him welcome me in such crowds. I wanted him come alone maybe get him some biscuit to chew. He was thirsty but look eighty, with pale skin, hopeless eyes and an emaciated body, covered in sores. I know the eye He use to look me before has change. It isn't. It's isn't. Really if I might've nod mama's advice earlier I'd have been responsible. I taught I taught it cooled. Where is He? I searched and found him. We lodge a spacious restaurant where Nigerian native food are sold and bought He twice. The way he swallowed the garri tell me he hasn't eaten for days... Obvious and palatable.
The next couple of days I phoned pastor Jacob confirming my return. I discussed all I had to discuss with him both of entrepreneurship. He prayed over me with phone and I switch it off.
I ebbed out to the riveting zone where unjumble mud corrode to flaps and bought three plot of land and immediately employed qualified engineers to foundationalized the plan, fixed up construction.
One year later; I brought the motive I had empowered right over in Canada to re-establish another. Some white who had anticipated with me over there came down to meet me in Nigeria and together technically and scientifically I had a success. I started having branches in different locations and security officers to safeguard cars from guest.
In less than two months financial exploit I formed an association through which it title Business Association of Nigeria {BAN}. Wealth was now becoming the other of the day.
4
Come tell me bambatikoti want me die. Death is sting and perilous. Horror. Hopeless and Unblest. Ambiguities and hypocritic. Raffles and Perdendosi. Blame and Feathery. Dark and Beyond vent natural. Choke and Blackmail. Facial but lost. I know it something far distance tickled with plight. Walkthrough aisle. Fall as autumn seeds. Bloated in Basket. I know it all day long journey. But I'll run to pastor Jacobs parish. I'll run to pastor
Jacobs parish. He will deliver me. He will stay and picture my life ultimately progressive. It will irk him to fix my burial to smog me with his feathery convention. I will stand his leg struggle in my chest and browse his inner conscience. From sheen the chill wind of severed limbs will clasps him bronze. I will sacrifice him better and ever.
My messenger will go to his house blows - popped his knuckle. Pistle the wiery smoke. And will tell him Fashil want to see him.
From the god's he'll rise to intimidate me. My life will be baked and smitten. Pills and dusty. Dark and Crimson.
I know Jacob's power is expensive too huge to understand. Brave and winsome. Unhindrance and Undirty. Supreme and Supercilious. Great and Giant. He will cover me in his feathers. Tears won't smelled my eye's. My arms won't sickness peeled. I'd enjoy the sheen of my sweats. Negative won't speak on me.
I will not pray He die. I won't pray him sleep sluggish. I didn't oblige him to risk his life with buck-naked women and gay men. I didn't force him to kill mother because he needed richable income. It was his choice. He chose it. He deserve to face the penalty. He suppose to confess to macied his life.
But I know yutongi people rage and racial. Hush and eerie. He won't live unless he confess. Yutongi and always bisexual in customs. Craft and sensible. You can't bisect their rules and get free.
Bambatikoti knows the rule. They know him by all eyes. A prompt business man. A manager in prostitution industry.
He seems to be another being in natural. A shimmering.
How can yutongi people rise but against him to banished his life and I went to him as a son to talk him most things strange and difficult to browsed. To tell him pastor Jacob sought to be hosting his vigil in his house and bambatikoti frowned staring ablaze. I left him and return back to Lagos. My mouth weren't sufficient to outspread how ignominy the wind was gathering momentum. I wasn't able to bear. It was unbearable. Pastor Jacob had severally phoned me and I wasn't able to pick because of the insult He passed me. All through out that week I kept my phone on silent. Sometimes, pastor Jacob will come to my house and people will tell him am half kip. A day came when pastor Jacob couldn't condoles the plight. He had to drop of bow behind my door edge and left for work.
I came home and found the treasure a ghetto lying flat behind my door edge. I pick it up and over it was a red letter inscripted inromanstimes numeral.
I tried to cross-checked each word typed and I couldn't. But a voice screaming inside my head making me go rumple. I pick up my phone to call rochard my admin and ask him hw fa. And he said all is well....
Immediately I had my phone dropped call runs in. Bambatikoti's name appeared on the screen. I became fright if something terrible had happen. And before I pick his call pastor Jacob had arrived. He has agreed to our plan. My hand found shooked pastor Jacobs paw. In haste, we rush down the village. That day was exactly the day yutongi people gathered at Rumueme Bridge and uku was to confess before the People. We droved in his compound and found doors lock. The gateman was slewed. I began to shed. Shed tears strange an wondering, screaming at girdle of my loins. It's something I couldn't laid back my conscience. Pastor Jacob tried to settle me witheverything is in God's hand. He try to make joy runs my cheek. He couldn't. I capt him rushed into his car and pick up his weapon, the bible. Hot fire sealed the sky. Earthquake turned the cloud. Wrinkles of Chimney's spy the land. Storm raging. Thunder Clapping. I wasn't hearing his slangs but I believe hotspot was within. The guardian angel was with him. Third person in the trinity was wrecking. He spoke until life came into me. He spoke until I was revived.
From the junction crowds were engulfed like an hair of Chihuahua hailing the so-called god's. We droved in and park at side of other cars. His Ex were completely shell shocked and they came to us and bash me inquisitively and I stare in suspense. From an angle we found bambatikoti hang like goat with tether and an anchor of kolanut present in his eyes. Tears like pale of flour bake down his chin and we couldn't recognize it. He was mutilated. He has been beaten. He has been stoned but our prayer sustain him. Item seven was at the dunghill. People were gathering to eat his burial food. funeral. Yutongi love sacrifice. Another festival. They want the world to know that evil practice is a crime and should be blasphemed. But they aren't doing it in a godly way. Men wearing black and black attire were stripe of the same feather looking wild salmon. I and pastor Jacob just stood as fool but inside of us were unquenchable wee-wee dribbling, were unquenchable firing satchel burning, consistent and relentless prayers knocking and squawking heavens gate of brass.
We stood for some hours upon the sand of the earth, as normal burial are conducted with music. From the caravan, musicians were all lined up with their flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer and cornet to split their unexpected rap's. To rappered songs in a foolish carnal. I know one of them, he's part of uku. But bambatikoti can't recognize him he see's him as a bald eagle eye. After their rap's an oracle having database powering his eyebrows came out and read false biography about him. People thought they had missed him - their eyes leapt tears. Some men at the conduit of the upper extreme wearing babisha haiku hat like ravenous beast were sworn by the excellency of the oracle. Bambatikoti's eye-flip were like approaching the throne of heaven but a substance of mole were dangling in it making him look worried. The oracle moved and moved round the pivot and about giving him an oat thunder strike. It romance the sky. We believe God has intervene. People started running. The hanging robe over bambatikoti neck loosed. All the men on black coat strike dead including the oracle.
"Who will judge bambatikoti's sin - for he wrought evil!?" I exclaimed and look forward to pastor Jacobs appearance. All the idols gathered by the oracle burnt by brook of the thunder bay droved into the league between me and him.
There was glamourification. Bambatikoti's eye glint with greed. He was angry we shouldn't have save him. We should've allowed yutongi oracle to struck him dead. We should've allowed the oat to consume him. We didn't bother to waste our energy talking cus we know uku's mouth run sharp when he sees a samaritan. In less than hours, police and federal road safety corps came with hospitalised ambulance and took them to the mutuary..... They thank pastor Jacob for doing a great job and fidgeting him for more successful background.
'Ubangiji' He look me and smile. He savoured the moment with obvious relish. Pastor Jacob understand his smiles and fold him in bonds. We prayed thanking God for his restoration. Bambatikoti felt there was an adamic mole stuttering his cybernetic mechanism and rush for acknowledgment. Before we took him home pastor Jacob had laid hands on him and confirmed freedom. Since then a branch of pastor Jacob ministry was casted on his house.
On the Morrow I left for lagos. The patio door creaked shut. Bambatikoti manage to exchange his account details with mine so I can pass him some token. I welcome it.
*
I'm not jack the lad. Bambatikoti live me alone. He was ninety and nine when I left home. Home of indolence - idleness - laziness - prostitution. Inspite the precarious and badly incident occurring. I took glory of other kin and crasps myself industrious. Pastor Jacob had not divulge to him that we are balanced equation enclose by circular vessel and fly cannot perch on it. Why is He so troublesome why can't he engage himself in little little business. Always Jamboree. Jamboree......... That is why in my childhood my late mother preferred an igbo man than any. Because they're I . G . B . O. Not idle. Not frustrated. They Prepare their meat in the summer and make houses in the rock. they go forth all of them by bands and take hold with their hands. Consequentially bambatikoti prefer sprinkling wine on the floor calling for the gods to give him manna. He prefer groping in the dark without light and maketh himself stagger like a drunken man. He prefer sauntering from one neighbor house to another in-begged of food. And some that have decayed scandal will evasively somersault the request and bambatikoti will dithered.
People are struggling with hopeless opportunity and fundamenting igloo buildings to ensure there is diplomatic excellence and corrosion is resisted. To ensure iguana bite them no more. But bambatikoti own is a curse, a peepling curse. He can't be a single panacea and try to raise income for himself when he hasn't been able to purge out cannabis and other illicited charms that will effete ignominy.
I had a dream about He still injuring my wife's womb inside a loo. Two blazed lights from the wetted shadow unleash it ravenous event. He was coded with heavy horns, clothed with shabby coat, unkempt grey hair, black colored shoe and a whimple wrapper like women. He was the metaphor, the shortest dwarf with long redded nose. He blench down to my slumping position dazzling with sharp fiendish knife and want to smashed my head with it not knowing I had heard the clump of his feet from the wetted floor. I sprang and squabble. He was now pretending old-fashion like an alcoholistic.
This move me to broadcast - tell the world how He is strangling rod on me all because my wife is barren. It is appalling that Machida is being discriminated on the disease called barrenness. My people barrenness is sweet and it is a non - communicable disease but it is quite shocking to observe that am living in barrenness and am treated as untouchables. I'm deprived of my inheritance and medical care. People in child miracle centers (C.M.C) in waterside have garnered several misconception about me living in barrenness. There's need for government to create awareness and educate
5
My mission to phalga was to unfettered the unpredictable engagement with Emaridal royal daughter. Betrothed and consecrate. Beloved and beatific. Unbewail and Biddable. Blameless and industrious. Unclown and cladding. Her hair piled high on top the head. We meet when we were little and yet in class one. Bambatikoti was working in zenith Bank and was a security then. Mother just left college. She was a fiancée and a friend I love. When I was in need of pocket money - she provide.
I was a pilgrim on this mission and bambatikoti wasn't inform. I know he will act cruel. I know my name will appear on his ba,nana republic blacklist.
Maidens were heading towards my direction. I needed an help. It being long I visited phalga. I droved to an extreme and found a park. Maidens came to me and greeted me. It shooked me but I have to say how are you chilling?. I didn't call but they came. Some where even welcoming me as a prince. Obvious, I wasn't a prince. I stood and smile. Shafts of bright sunlight clues the sky.
"Please where is your throne!?"
I exclaim and shuffle across a stand. They swift an swirl
straight and their faces compass the track. .......
"Can we join your car?"
'Yes' I reply promising I would be led to the throne. I propel to my car and opened the rear door through the wing mirror and all the compell in. Inside the minivan I prefered asking them question and both all answered.
It was an interesting zone. I never thought I could live such a place. Houses were built of jasper, pure gold as clear glass. We keep moving until we recycle a brown gate with lengthy buildings. The foundation of all the buildings were garnished with huge precious stones. Stones made of Jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, emerald, sardonyx, Sardius, chrysolite, Beryl, topaz, jacinth and chrysoprasus. The gate were as transparent glass.
"This is the throne" I stop the car. The maidens came down and walk down the sky..their voices squeal and whacked my ear.
Guards securing the gate where perturbed and unacquainted to ululate. I try to cajole smiles on their faces but their compound eye puerile envy. How they were starving eyes on me was making me loose flesh, muscle and strength. Non sent for the king. I kept on standing folding my arms and looking the sky for help.
The king arrived and meet me by the gait.
"Why should you be standing.........under this pressure alone?' He spoke in such manner because I had thirty-six firm in Nigeria.
"Guards!" He ordered. Why didn't you open this gate for him to come in. He turn to me and Squawk. "Why didn't you ask the guards to open the gate for you?" I condone the reasons and vividly became intimate. There was a great reverberation from the palace. And am sure it'd be Machida. The girl in my heart. But I didn't rush towards it - I followed it little by little.
We moved into the whispering palace and sat on discuss. Long discuss. Lingering and Lingering. Guards were all-round the door edge at the rim. We discuss to a limit whereby the king had to call his wife, the queen. The queen came out and join us on discuss. Actually I was tingling with my phone - the so-called Facebook design to disrupt my attention. Ultimately they concur. It was a proposition on marriage. I wanted everything to go smooth that was why bambatikoti name wasn't in my agenda. I settle everything with the king and promised to revisit.
Meanwhile Machida had an ex obviously begging her to marry him. A pretended ritualist. Her parent weren't aware. All she would say was that she is heading to the stream with unbreakable maidens to fetch water.
On this day - bambatikoti and pastor Jacob had concur to join me and revisit the throne. We went there with all kinds of food and table it on their footstool. I was condemn already in my heart and I had to divulge on ears of pastor Jacob but comfortingly he commiserated and poked my elbow. I understood. We began to venture with the king and his wife. Bambatikoti made his own suggestion. Pastor Jacob laid his. The queen complemented. Suddenly, we heard a pit - a - pat of feet in the corridor running toward the palace with a piteous cry. The king rose to ask. "What is the problem?" Immediately an ambulance came in with two injured bodies completely black. I try to piss myself I couldn't - I couldn't go to the toilet because of this misfortune.
We and the king move to the conveyed ambulance to capture the image of the unbetenoire and we found Mathilda and the pretended ritualist soaked with blood.
I love round the kings eye at rage - the Queen's eye annoy. I fainted.
I woke to see myself in the hospital. Bambatikoti and pastor Jacob was sitted. The doctor was carrying out it experiment. My employees were a weeping willow considered to be kind. Each time pastor Jacob want to talk to me I'd be asking him is Mathilda okay? Is she sound. He would try to palliate me and reduce tension but I will walk away my eye.
Three weeks later after I had being relieve from the hospital. We went to the house together with bambatikoti and laid consistently on prayer concerning the life of Machida. We prayed and prayed until we clattered and prevail.
Following the next day we revisit the throne. We met her sitted on a wheel chair inside the palace. The king beside his chamber and the queen on concrete floor. All were thinking I won't marry her again because of the incident. Nevertheless she is my will I mean the one I see night in night. I went to her as cheap and humble servant. Knelt before her with my pairs of ring in a saucer and present it to her. And said "will you marry me?" It marvel her. She didn't know how to express her feeling. She look Godawful both to her father and mother; wipe the sheen of sweat from her face and said yes I will marry you. I was excited joy executed my face and made me handsome. "God will protect your marriage" king and the queen rose clapping supported by my father and pastor Jacob.
I thought all was beautiful and we arrange the exact fix day for the wedding. I left to Lagos with pastor Jacob ro inform my my employee's.
Not knowing; bambatikoti was angry with me. He was angry that I have display, act badly. Knelt before her to ask for her hand in marriage opposing that she would've being the one doing that.
He want to recall yutongi's culture whom we have put asunder. He want to replace me with death in this enjoyable period. He want me die so he can bequeath my sweat. He had optout my plan in his mind as he besiege me.
I laid this complaint to pastor Jacobs heart. I think towards it and he convince me that all will be well. I shrugged over.
A day to the wedding we descended in white and red gowns - my employee's followed. It was bambatikoti house we were heading to. Reaching: we found the gate lock. Pastor Jacob didn't bother calling him because he knew where he's gone. And so we piped down the vehicle.
Bambatikoti was seen us inside a mirror kept in the shrine. He wanted to cause painful cease of breath. But his power where overwhelm by another external forces. Remember, unquenchable fire was burning inside pastor Jacob's mind. And great was God protecting the marriage.
Each time he want to strike us with waving thunder. God will resend unbehalf. The shrine will chide him under a shield. He kept on trying this until a flash of light with abundance siren struck him dumb. News ce to our ears after we had return to various destination that bambatikoti is dumb. That he has bleary eyes. The whole earth shooked.
6
There was a greater intensification of orchard bowl grazed from kaput meadows inside my house. It's the reason bambatikoti keeps visiting. Styling as prima ballerina. I don't feel comfortable if I don't see him and he comes with trouble. The heavy burdened I never aspired to face. At times, how he will dressed will look tattered an the hair on his head will look tousled and my wife will battlecry. He Purposely do it to irk her.
I woked in a strange world encumb with emerald golds and crafted diamonds. It was a decayed convoluted strap daunted with black black black sheep dung - a royal holistic ballerina saturated with hot whack spicy juice that make one go dangling. The aroma was curious. The smell was like chimney of an old roger is dead and gone to his grave. On - the - go was a gathering of black cult duplicating humans picture in bows. Bambatikoti was among..... plushing me to escape the world. Terrible. It was an attack. They didn't want me - he wanted me to know that my wife will soon depart.
In this world if you dare shout you are a dead wolf. Tigers and wild cats will find you. Lioness and chimpanzee will chase after you. It was a place where different festival are celebrated. The most of all was the miro - moro festival established in Argungu yam parks. It was mean't for barren spoused. They call it miracle centre. Home for conducive deliverance.
My wife was casted on the bowl - the unadjustable wrapper tied round her waist was beginning to drop. Her faith was old enough that they couldn't elucidate her nakedness. I witness the scene. I couldn't forbear despite all their tortured. My voice was at the speed of hollow. I scream - shout inexplicably. Men with green eyes and red pants went round the world to rummage fat golden beast to chop me off. I know her location was available - she was in-between hotspot and wifi. They try all their possible outcome to trapped her life in bowl and couldn't.
Bambatikoti and his hordes agent came to me and roasted a barbecue paw over my face if I'd divorce then I'll be free. Threatening. I didn't bother to answer. I know they were fools. Fool at forty. The whole quest was curled up like pregnant pug. The odour of their mouth were like men of insanity who never had time to wipe away crawling snake - clear away the coniferous forest growing as weeds and yielding devastation.
Bad man is still a bad man onslaught; no matter what you do for a badman he will never appreciate. Inspite of my love for bambatikoti bambatikoti whisk as if tower of grace is over. How can He in his nonagenarian characteristics betray me.
They move me into a round facilitated dark building where silly angels were like vampires oozing gnat and the top rodent of their teeth were Kalashnikov of darkened fibres. It chokes me. All the moochers were scrambling while some bereaved. The odour ventilated and I forbid the nature of He a moped.
Out of curiosity a guardian appeared from the branch looking thunderbolt and whisper. Bambatikoti and his hordes agent began to shift moved by the vibration. A shimmering. My mind began to cool under temperament of joy.
Meanwhile - at other strange times He was a cruel. Try to kill to bequeath my sweat. I know angels are working working to ensure am safeguard. That's why my rest life I want living it in webs of pastor Jacob.
Certainly I came out save and sound. I glorify pastor Jacob in the fires even my wife in the isles of the sea. Bambatikoti and his hordes agent that manage to fleet the violent exile of the guardian fell into the trench. I stood folded to study the map of how large that world is _ it's shaking as reel to and fro like drunkard and was removed like a cottage.
The moon was confounded and the sun ashamed and the constellation dim. The city of confusion was broken down. There was a crying for wine in the trench; all joy were darkened, the mirth of the world was gone.
I know bambatikoti's kaput is smitten with destruction and his hordes agent had uncovered the shield. I will weep bitterly, labour not to comfort him, because of the spoiling to girding with sackcloth.
The guardian left me after I had risen in the natural world. My eye was blasting off the shadow like mirage. Timbre and caliber were round the brambles and nestle oozing eerie sound like vultures of an exotic trinity. Pastor Jacob and my wife were facing each other. My eyes skip flip and flop until I got a clear vision. Sprang. Pastor Jacob, men of timbre and caliber rounded up and brought me to a bench. I sat and relaxed. Later, my mouth move as channel of testimony and quickly I carried away captive - I exposed bambatikoti's inner intention concerning the family. Everyone believe and shooked head.
Obvious, He chronicle was of trouble and anguish, trinidad, breathtaking and provocation, tabret and dim, languish and stricken. He never want anyone to tell him what he's doing is wrong. He will be telling me to provide him a grand child as if am God that gives children. Otherwise, if I were God he would've not been rich I'd have ensure there's chaos of precariousity.
Recall, in my childhood mother told me that before she gave births to me - it was twenty years after their marriage.
"Crux!?" I exclaimed. The reason why I haven't gotten a child is plain and understandable. Pastor Jacob understand. My wife understand. Doctors understand. But bambatikoti is a myth he doesn't even want to know - he want me to open my wife womb and give him a child. And I will never do that. I will wait until my red letter day come.
Bambatikoti wasn't the only miscarriage sleeping in my house - my wife family where roses of charcoals obliging me to react fastly and pregnant their daughter if not I would be sent pack. I'd be a rejected persona-non-grata. However, angles of matter were rising like intonations and dispute raging as storms. There was a radiant reflection between them and my wife. Often, my subconscious was becoming perturb and the bone in it dry. I was fixed and handle with sob ecstacy. It seems I was just living but no attachment; the capability to invoke joy into my wife's life wasn't there. Chuckles and disgusting moved in. I was afraid to visit pastor Jacob for counselling. There was a time he cordially invited us to worship with him in his ministry I wanted going but my wife was an upthrust pushing and pulling me with her self congested stories......
This is beyond human understanding. I mean wine bibers. I am not a big difference bambatikoti knows that. I know he has being struggling mystically to neglect unreasonable fumes burning huge in his neck. But he doesn't want to relieve cheroot - cigar with two open ends. Cultism and prostitution. Pastor Jacob remain my royal personage. Also if bambatikoti repent it'll be the greatest profession and pastor Jacob will rejoice. I was as serious as never. But in the case of childlessness I attempted to secretly put mathilda away and a voice in me whisper as loud as audible.
Probably, I scuttle to the foundation of pastor jacob where his tent dwells and found him sitted with midwife I thought since I've offended him he's going to reject me fortunately tension relieve him and we became friends. But I notice something ' each time I do go to his house he'd welcome me with wavelength, but this time he was decompose to say bambatikoti is the cause to my problem.
When I realise this I frowned staring gashed, hashed and labyrinth. Pastor jacob had always been a true friend and this saying 'A blind man cannot lead a blind man' bambatikoti is the dilemma inside my head but he won't tell me all this while he is the reason why am childless. But how he will pressurize me it will seems he's an innocent.
7
Why is death traumatic? Why it bring severe emotional shock! Why should the death of my mother be shattering? I smirk a yelled with the rain pounding. Bambatikoti can't be a breadwinner when he doesn't know how to breast_feed a child under scream. Risking my marriage shouldn't have being the reason why he'd aimlessly hardened his mouth.
I know He is strange - having mansion beyond blues'. Everything about him are strange. If he loves cucumber and knows it'll intimately irk him and emerged him from being a breadwinner can't he redress it? What's that thing that bliss his heart? Mopping the love away; tilting his eyes.
I am a shield. I'm the best famous ever. I had left cock-eyed home that rumbles in Lagos and sail through the squally sea to live with him. I've seen nothing wrong in this charitable service am rendering.
He'st be mad. He was the man that confesses to pastor Jacob in that vinyl tiled floor never to yield to immorality. He was peeling the lip in fierce almost to leap him when the police came and inserted a shout like ruddering the roof of pastor Jacob lips in mounds.
He was the one that said for the rest of his life he'll be with God. He'll never forsake him. In sickness he'll stay by him. In trials he'll hung by him. But now God is treated as rag in his eyes. Often I ask myself why is this amniotic cavity acting as buffer on him?
I go to him sitted on terrazzo pavement casting the image of a yutongian who died mysteriously in his eyes with pastor Jacob to exposed him the secret and he would adjustably snubbed me shook his head as if anticipating a blow. I don't use gun, to me gun is for uniformed cowards and at that interval of audacity i don't want any police officer to aid me. I would've blow off his head.
Beside I didn't want my marriage to be broken down despite usurp alternative flopping my mine, that's why i want rendering my wife a present perfect tense and not a past perfect tense.
A little after four o'clock, bambatikoti call us back and to the ghost of our God we handle the butocks with absolute care. Bambatikoti was listening our mouth and expecting us to say something, the pizzeria window was open and I was afraid our voices can be traced to our forefathers. But the feminist movement has vehemently canvassed and bambatikoti had depict the sudden magnanimity of how a girl speak to tell us about the cause. Father. Pastor Jacob roved his eyes. I know I'm not educated, but I've been around a while. He squeezed his hand - a slight - very slight - almost sardonic smile curved round his lips. It is unfortunate that you've misuse the life of your son for a purpose and we have come to know the purpose. "What purpose have you come to know?" Said bambatikoti. Our eyes drifted back to the horizon and pastor Jacob reached out and gently took his small fist in his large one. "What you did to Ubangiji when he was young" said Jacob. Bambatikoti cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes were intense. "Is that why you should've come to my house to insult me? No but……. I know you're responsible and if you refuse to confess now, count yourself out the living!
Bambatikoti look round - very left - and right again. Please don't take my life I'llmake a clean breast I'llmake a clean breast I'll tell you what make me faul’ty. My voice left my mouth. He went inside his house and brought out mortar and pestle.
And lo...., my picture was inside the mortar and a teaspoon of water's edge salt had pulverized the front shadow.
Amazing! Amazing! I sounded.
"When I was about to say "I do" your mother - I was pitiable and in her way of life if you aren't rich you can't say "I do". As a bachelor I had to employ myself with little business. Weeks later there was no improvement. Friend of lagosian located my house from an outskirt eighter and hour. Welcome him with nothing but a basket of biscuit. Really I love your mother. Beautiful. Her smiles tragically entertaining, sweeps one out nasty condition. Friend gave me a form to fill, I accepted it as if he was an assassin that had studied my lack. He said it's for employment. He never told me it blasphemous until I'd dialed word on the form. He then say it's a club - that provides millions in lest much, make poor rich. Nodded. Before he left mouth move and ask when is the time. He would phone me when he arrives home. I walk him off.
Twelve pm my phone rang my little dog bark. Barking as if its ghost. I pick the phone and glance who's calling. Friend. Escaped. But receive.
I took my nightgown and manage my skin out of dark till I reach the horizon, a pavement of waterside. Water was blue, black at same. No human was found but voice of thunder lightening. Friend came the water, showed me the club. I was afraid to jump but he force over me. What I saw next was a building and a sky like blue a new world. Men gathering. White with red. Hailing the master. Ushers padling like boat without captain.
Dragon was their idol whom they call master. But having human face and tale. Everyone inside apartment welcome me and pass sit. I sat and was ask to donate blood. Cut off my flesh with razor blade, blood in me wrestle as satchel water. I enjoy the way they presented a kiss to my mouth. Nevertheless everything went err 'shading' like unripe plantain. Corpse lined the ground - black white.
My hand bunt over the masters face and a corpse entered my hand. Lagosian open the corpse three spoons stood up and down. They told me to bury inside and whatever thing I pronounce will be ascertain but my impending offspring would not flourish. They say and believe. Absolutely that wouldn't have happen or I didn't agree. It's money that shifted my bones to say it a good fad. Inside the corpse I sleep and found myself inside the house. House was filtered with money. This is the end of my confession please my son, pastor Jacob forgive.
The way we glance bambatikoti face as memorandum was like we should hug his head inside our clothe. We had mercy. Had mercy. Had mercy. Only mercy overwhelm the whole scenario. Pastor Jacob but stood up and laid hand. He move into tragically comedy
. bambatikoti said he was the one that sham cement, electricity, phonograph, railway, engine, pen, microphone, aeroplane while it was Joseph aspdin, michael faraday, Thomas .a. edison, George stephenson, Lewis E. Waterman, Charles wheatsone, Wilbur and Orville wright. I know of Mrs. Folake solate as the first female lawyer to be honored as senior advocate of Nigeria (S. A. N) but he'll tell us that his late wife was that
