After a long hard day yesterday, nothing could have prepared me for the
drama of last night. It wasn't something so terrible as you might fear.
It was actually amusing.
Picture this: You are at home on one of
those rare evenings when power is on so there is a total absence of the
racket that comes with the sound of generators; especially when you live
in a large compound of about four flats of which you are one of the
occupants and believe me, every occupant owns one of those big noisy
generators. Just imagine the ruckus when they are all in use.
Let
me deviate a little; I grew up in a university campus when things were a
lot better than it is now. From the early 90's when I moved there up to the early 2000's, the campus was so well
run. We had constant power supply, security, water and other trappings
that come with what is expected of an academic environment. It was quiet
and sane because we could count the number of people who had power
generating sets. At a time, the school purchased a power plant that
could power the whole school so no one really needed a personal
generator.
However, as things deteriorated as they are often
want to do since we lack a culture of maintenance, there was an
overnight change. We could suddenly count those who did NOT own a
generating set. The bottom line is, I was so used to that peace and
quiet, that tranquility that comes with an academic environment so
adjusting to the "outside world" was a bit problematic but I did it.
Where
was I...? Oh yes! So I was having a rare moment of tranquil last night
and was doing my night reading before sleep comes when power went off.
The silence that accompanied was deafening. This was at about a few
minutes past eleven pm. I decided that my neighbours had all gone to
sleep because after about five minutes, I didn't hear the rumble of a
generator in the compound. The weather was cool so I sighed in
contentment. It was going to be a silent night. How wrong I was.
 |
| See Matter O! |
I
first heard sounds...funny sounds. I jumped up and checked around my
house. Not here, I thought relieved. I settled down to attempt to sleep
and this time, there was no mistaking it. Sounds of love making...at
first, then sounds of rough, hard core sex! It was like listening to
just the audio of an adult movie. The violent bed rocking against the
wall, the rhythmic clap of body against body, the unhinged howl of
pleasure and pain, the sexually explicit encouragement from the girl's
lips...It was loud...too loud for the silent night!
One of my neighbours pinged me on my blackberry.
Neighbour: "U dey sleep?!"
Me: "How I wan take sleep with this kain noise?! I'm not sure they know how quiet it is outside."
Neighbour: "They know. They just don't care! See my kid is awake now."
I
decided to go outside and as I stepped out, the volume of sex
amplified. Choi! See audio mojo!! My neighbour was so angry because his
four year old daughter was awake and you know kids of nowadays, very
impressionable. He wanted to bang on Sex Lord's door but I stopped him.
What is the use? Na you dey pay him rent? Put earphones over your
daughter's ears. It will be over soon. Soon was about forty five minutes
later when they both screamed like banshees, piercing further the
silent night!
In civilized climes, my neighbour with the four
year old daughter would have called the cops and they would have
intervened in this...domestic nuisance by probably issuing out a warning
of some sort or something. But in my country Nigeria, don't even think
about calling the cops. The matter fit just get "K" leg from there.
Anyway,
one thing is certain. The girl is going to be a regular visitor because
my other "good ol' neighbour" put up a good show! I'll just have to
advise him to at least, use that monster generator of his whenever she's
around. It will help everybody.
Malcolm O. Ifi.
Photo Credit: The Internet
It was a friday evening; a long awaited one for Ibukun, Damilola and
Chikwelu. They had worked their butts off for two straight weeks,
traveling from state to state. They were IT personnels for one of the
largest new generation banks in Nigeria. They were an envied lot in
their offices as they were the only staffs of the bank that kept
irregular work hours and were not mandated to keep to a particular dress
code. In fact, watching them now, you would have trouble believing they
were staffs of a bank. Ibukun was wearing a blue jeans trouser with a
blue T-shirt with an angry smiley and the words inscribed, “Boys Are Not
Smiling.” It was ironical because right now, his laughter reverberated
the empty banking hall as they strolled towards the exit. Damilola had
on a plain white T-Shirt, soiled with pepper sauce, the cause of
Ibukun’s bellow, and combat shorts with the pockets bulging with tools.
He was munching away at a lap of peppered turkey they had ordered
earlier. Chikwelu was a couple of steps behind, talking intimately to
his girlfriend on the phone. He was dressed in a well starched and
sparkling white shirt and light blue jeans and a pair of blue sneakers.
He was the most dressed of the trio.
Their itinerary began on Tuesday last week with a trip from Lagos to
Enugu. They were there for three days working on a crashed server in two
of the bank’s branches when another call came in. They headed to Benin
where they spent two days. From Benin, they headed to Kano where they
spent a day before boarding the morning flight to Port Harcourt. They
had been in Port Harcourt for almost seven days now and were due to
return to Lagos the next day. The back-breaking work they had done for
two weeks without break had taken its toll. There weren’t too tired but
they just needed a good time.
“Have you called Tony?” Ibukun asked, suddenly reminding Chikwelu who had joined them after he got off the phone.
“I haven’t o. Make I call am now sef.” Chikwelu said, whipping out his iPhone and dialing.
“I hope Tony won’t dull us? I’m stressed out man. I need to cool off.
I just need one fine yarinya to keep me company tonight.” Ibukun said,
with excitement.
“Which kain useless man you be?” Damilola asked in between chomps. “Nor be you just do introduction last month?”
“Ehen?! Nor be only introduction? I never marry yet jor?” Ibukun replied, dismissively.
“Even when you finally get married, I know you won’t stop chasing women.” Damilola jeered.
“You don be seer now abi? This one when you don see my future
finish.” Ibukun retorted, throwing a soft but unexpected punch at
Damilola’s shoulder. His half eaten turkey lap fell from his grip and
bounced on the beautiful marble floor of the banking hall.
“You see wetin this fool don do?” Damilola complained to Chikwelu,
who remained behind, talking on the phone. Ibukun burst into laughter as
he dodged a kick from Damilola.
“Abeg Dami pick you meat jare. Anybody dey look you?” Ibukun
continued, laughing. Damilola shrugged and picked up the fallen piece of
meat. He blew on it with all the force he could muster to dislodge any
dirt that might have stuck to it from the marble floor. Ibukun continued
to laugh.
“I nor blame you.” Damilola said as he resumed dealing with the big
chunk of peppered meat. Chikwelu joined them again as they approached
the revolving doors.
“Ok, Tonero has three hot girls. They are all bankers and they are looking to have a good time.” Chikwelu said excitedly.
“My nigga! I knew you won’t fail!!” Ibukun said, raising a palm for a high five which was smacked.
“Three girls? I told you guys I’m not getting involved in this one.” Damilola said.
“C’mon man! Don’t be a pussy. We are in PH man. Its Sin City!” Chikwelu said, chiding Damilola.
“One bad experience is not enough for you to…” Ibukun began to say,
but a fast kick by Damilola on the knee made him buckle as Chikwelu
roared in laughter.
“You want to say something?” Damilola said in mock menace to Ibukun.
“Bros, abeg! Na joke I dey o.” Ibukun said in mock fear laughing.
They stepped outside the bank premises and the warm air outside was a
welcome change from the low temperature room where they had been cooped
all day. It was a little after 10: 30pm and they waited as their driver
drove up to them. Chikwelu went to speak to Jonah, the head security
man briefly before he joined them in the car. They always left him the
passenger seat because he was the taller of the three.
“So, where to now?” Damilola asked.
“The hotel. We need to freshen up and meet Tony at that club we went
to last time.” Chikwelu replied. The driver started the car and drove
out.
“Abeg, make we find where we go buy condom first. I’m out of stock.”
Ibukun said. The driver, the man they called Eliri, courtesy Ibukun
because of his diminutive stature laughed.
“See Eliri dey laugh o. I know say una PH girls no good so I must protect myself.” Ibukun retorted.
“I’ve got some in my bag in the hotel. Since I’m not joining you guys tonight, you can use my supply.” Damilola said.
“So you’re really not joining us tonight? Na wa for you o!” Chikwelu exclaimed from the front seat.
“You won’t understand. The kind of relaxation I need is just beer!” Damilola said.
“Dami, you too like drink sef! Ah ah!” Ibukun chipped in.
“And you too like woman.” Damilola retorted.
As they drove into their hotel, Chikwelu’s phone rang again. He spoke briefly and hung up.
“Its Tony. He’s at the hotel bar already.” He said.
“That’s my cue. My drinking starts now.” Damilola said as he stepped out of the Toyota Yaris.
“Ok. You keep him company while we freshen up.” Ibukun said to Damilola. At Eliri, he said, “You dey with us na, abi?”
“I dey with una bros.” Eliri replied in his characteristic squeaky
voice that matched his stature. The last time they were in Port
Harcourt, they had kept him supplied with enough booze. Eliri was a
champion. He seemed to have an unlimited reservoir for alcohol without
ever getting drunk, despite his diminutive stature. “Small but mighty”
Ibukun had called him.
A few minutes later, Chikwelu and Ibukun emerged from their hotel
room, having changed their work clothes and strolled to the bar, where
Damilola, Tony and three ladies were sitting. Tony had already taken the
liberty to order a bottle of Jack Daniels and Power Horse, on
Chikwelu’s tab which he drank with the ladies. Damilola remained loyal
to Arthur Guiness and was on the second black bottle. The ladies were
cute but heavily made up and were almost identically dressed in the
skimpiest dresses you’ll ever see. They were plump and they all seemed
to have big jugs. Chikwelu paired up with the fair one while Ibukun
rubbed his palms together in satisfaction. It was going to be a long
night. In fact, they had no idea how long a night it would be.
They all rose and bade Damilola farewell, asking him one last time to
join them but he refused. He just wanted to drink till he was high
enough to go to sleep.
“Don’t forget our flight is for 8: 30am. I don’t want to miss it
because of you guys.” He said. Ibukun made a funny face at him and they
left.
………………………………………………
It was 7: 15am before Damilola stirred. He’d drunk himself aground
last night and couldn’t remember how he got to the bed. He felt groggy
with a bad hangover. However, all that cleared when he glanced at his
watch.
“Shit! Shit!!” He exclaimed as he jumped out of the bed and rushed
into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, he was out of the bathroom and
was fully dressed when he decided to call the boys. Chikwelu’s phone
was switched off; Ibukun didn’t answer his.
“I hope these boys are not still sleeping o?” He muttered to himself.
He arranged his bag and then went to search them out. They had taken
adjoining rooms. He knocked on Room No. 23 and 24.
“Chikwe! Ibukun!!” He called. “We are already late o. Its almost 8 o’clock. Our flight is in thirty minutes.”
No answer.
He knocked harder, yelling louder but apparently, they weren’t in the
room. He strolled down to the bar while dialing Ibukun’s number. The
phone rang without any response. He changed his mind and went to the
reception.
“Did my friends come in last night?” He asked the uniformed lady across the counter.
“Your friends? I’m sorry sir but my shift just started a couple of minutes ago.”
Seeing how troubled he looked, she asked, “Is there a problem sir?”
“Not really…” He said, unsure of himself. “If I could only get them
on the phone…” He continued, more to himself than to her, his phone
pressed to his ear.
“The doorman’s shift is done but he’s still around sir. Perhaps he could help you…?” She asked.
“Perhaps, he could…” He was about to hit redial when a call from an unregistered number came in.
“Hello?”
“Oga…” The voice on the phone said breathlessly. “Na me.”
“Eliri?” Damilola asked.
“Oga wahala dey o.” There was a voice in the background that said,
“focus on your driving” distinctly. The phone exchanged hands.
“Dami, we are on our way to the hotel now. Get your bag ready, we are
leaving this town now!” The urgency in Chikwe’s voice was shocking.
“What is going on…” But he was cut short.
“Get the spare keys and check us out immediately. We are getting
close to the hotel. And withdraw plenty cash from that atm terminal
close to the hotel!” He hung up.
Dami sensed something terrible was up and instantly he rose to the
occasion. In a few minutes, all that was required of him was done while
he waited impatiently at the reception with trepidation.
Shortly after, the glass doors slid open and a dirty, bruised Chikwelu with
tattered, blood stained clothes stepped in with urgency. Damilola rose
at once and Chikwelu went to meet him.
“Why are your clothes tattered? Why are you bruised? Were you guys in
a fight? Where is Ibukun? What happened?” All these questions gushed
out in one breath but Chikwelu remained silent and picked up the two
bags on the floor containing laptops and other tools and headed for the
exit. Damilola followed suit, half expecting an explanation. Every one
at the reception knew something was amiss and the gossips started. It
was only when they stepped outside that Chikwelu spoke.
“We were mobbed outside the club. Ibukun is barely alive!” He said with a shaky voice.
Damilola was shocked beyond words and stopped in his tracks.
“Come on! We have just a few minutes to make it to the airport. Its
not safe to remain in this town for one more second than is necessary!”
He shouted angrily.
Damilola, totally confused, hurried up as they strode to the now
battered Yaris. Chikwelu entered the back seat and motioned for Damilola
to enter the front seat. Even Eliri was not spared. His clothes were
torn and he had a nasty gash on his fore head. There were shards of
broken glass from his door window all over the car. He came out and
hurriedly put the bags in the trunk while the engine was running.
It was when Damilola entered the passenger seat that he saw the
bloodied and limp form of Ibukun in the back seat. Tears welled up in
his eyes and his throat dried up. Ibukun had a bandage around his head,
his chest was bare and bloody, with multiple stab wounds, which were
bandaged. Some of the exposed ones were deep with a tinge of purple,
others were just lacerations. His eyes were swollen, his nose was
bleeding.
“We have to take him to a hospital.” Damilola said hoarsely when he found his voice.
“No.” Ibukun said, weakly. “Let’s just go home.”
“We just dey come from clinic.” Eliri said.
“No airline will allow us fly like this.” Damilola insisted.
“We’ll clean him up and change when we get to the airport.” Chikwelu
said rather calmly. “Before we board, call the office to send an
ambulance to the airport.”
Damilola nodded as they rode in silence to the airport.
………………………………………………
Ibukun died two days later in a Lagos hospital while in the arms of
the woman he loved but never had the chance to marry. The details of
what happened that friday night remains in doubt as they are sketchy. It
was gathered from the party goers in the club that Ibukun was trying to
rob someone outside the club when the mob descended on him.
Chikwelu was in the rest room when it all began and came out to find
his friend being mobbed and joined the fray to save his friend.
It was Eliri who saved them from the irate mob. He drove into the
thick of the lynching with horns blaring, knocking down some members of
the mob when he saw his benefactors being beat up outside. The mob
cowardly stepped back and Chikwelu, thinking fast, forced a half dead
Ibukun and himself into the car which sped off before the mob had a
chance to recover.
Tony and the three plump ladies were no where to be found.
Of course, Ibukun was no thief but till now, nobody knows what really happened.
NB: This story is dedicated to the four victims who were brutally
murdered by members of the Aluu Community in Port Harcourt on trumped up
and unverified allegations of theft.
May God rest their souls.
Amen.
Follow Malcolm on twitter @saymalcolm
First published October 9, 2012; 11:20am at http://saymalcolm.wordpress.com/2012/10/09/black-friday/
I attended the wedding reception of a friend two weeks ago. It was a
very colorful and festive affair. I must admit I was highly impressed at
everything I saw. It was something like a societal ball for the high
and mighty and the rich and famous. There was an even sprinkling of a
few celebrities, ranging from the business moguls, fashion icons, public
officials to professional career men and women. It was complete with a
red carpet to herald the guest entry.
To the unknown passerby, this occasion could easily have been
mistaken for a celebrity fashion show. Stunning and outrageous outfits
were on full display here to add to the pomp and pageantry of the
affair. The invited guests used the opportunity to display eccentric
tastes in fashion and style and they did so ostentatiously. On entering
the venue of the reception (the only part of weddings I normally attend,
save in rare cases), I was again taken aback by the great architecture
of the twelve storied hotel. It was simply breath-taking. It had two
great and masterfully crafted beams holding the entrance to the
building. An a escalator rode people up to the great gold doors covered
with murals of angels. The walls were clothed in unique marble. Gold and
diamond shone from the expensive chandelier that hung upward. There was
a great water fountain at the middle of the spacious car park with an
amazing sculpture of an angel, presumably the Archangel Michael from
whose mouth water gushed rhythmically. Guests flocked around the
fountain to take snapshots of themselves in front. It was a marvelous
hotel. I tried to make a mental calculation of how much this would cost
for one honest and hard working man to build and I decided not to bother
as my brief mental estimation led me to “error” as usually displayed in
calculators when values exceeding its limits were put in for a
solution.
The car park was a sight to behold. It was like a car show. All
assortments of choice cars ranging from American, to German, to Italian,
to Japanese were neatly assembled. It was a smorgasbord of automobiles
from every corner of the earth and my brain kept blinking “error” each
time I tried to make mental calculus of the cost of all cars combined.
The families of the bride and groom were obviously well-to-do and well
known in high society and with them came their rich friends.
There was a brief commotion behind me and several gasps of approval
as the newly wedded couple arrived the scene. When I turned to have a
look I was astounded. A white stretch SUV Limo stood in the drive way. I
nodded in admiration as the bride stepped out of the carriage looking
like a modern day Cinderella, all smiles. Her wedding gown was
exquisitely fashioned and flowed greatly. Her bridal train consisting of
six beautiful ladies accompanied her as they came down from the long
vehicle. Then came the grooms men, looking smart in their well-cut grey
tuxedos. My colleague, the groom came out last. His all white outfit
elicited approval from everyone; from the white and obviously expensive
brogue shoes, up to his expensive white suit. Unlike his bride however,
his facial expression was bland with no smiles. For a second I wondered
why. Its your wedding man, be happy but then I checked myself. The groom
is usually never the happy one as his mental state during weddings is
all about figures and costs. However, I was soon to discover that was
not the case.
Around me, out came the gadgets! The i-Phones, the i-Pads, the
Galaxies and what have you to take shots of the couple alighting from
their royal carriage. My digital camera hung on my neck and I took a
couple of snap shots to keep these moments alive. It was going to be an
interesting wedding.
After the dance of the couple to their specially reserved seat (a
dance which I observed the groom “moved” rather stiffly to the tune of
Today Today by Eldee), we sat down in a royally-furnished hall. Bright
lights blinked everywhere. The interior decor was top-notch. The smartly
uniformed waiters gave us our first sip of Champagne for the day with
the promise of more to come. Hmmm…my colleague really went out on a limb
on this one. The atmosphere was charged naturally with excitement as
there was plenty to eat and drink. The hundred or so guests settled down
expectantly while the reception formalities went on. Orders were taken,
food and drinks were served. The MC went on and on with his
insufferably boring jokes and tales and I was amazed when people laughed
long and hard. I must have lost my sense of humor, I thought. The hall
buzzed with the small talk that accompanied these kind of meals. I sat
with two paired guests who wouldn’t stop yapping about the food.
I concentrated my attention on the groom who appeared to start
drinking a bit early for my taste. The expression of joy on his brides
face had wilted considerably as she issued silent pleas to him. I had a
very strong sense of foreboding. Something was definitely not right. A
waiter stood efficiently at his side and ensured his glass was never
empty.
The reception proceeded successfully as the usual formalities went on
and the numerous guests had their fill of food and wine. Then came the
time came for a toast to the bride and the groom. From then on, things
spiraled out of control! The best man stood up and took a glass of
Champagne and the microphone to give his most likely properly rehearsed
speech when the groom stood, albeit shakily.
“That’s enough Fred. I think I can handle my toast just fine.” He
said, his words slurring. He stood unsteadily and grabbed the
microphone. This was strange. His speech time hadn’t come yet!
Fred was surprised. So was everybody and the hall went silent for
about ten seconds as everybody wondered what was going on. The silence
was loud and felt like forever. The clatter of plates with forks, knives
and spoons stopped as did the popping of bottles, clink of glasses and
even the occasional interference on the PA system. If a pin had dropped
at that instant, it would have been deafening. The MC, in an attempt to
quell this unplanned intrusion to an already perfect schedule walked
towards the high table where the bewildered bride was seated alone but
was stopped halfway.
“Mr MC! Have a seat. I’m taking over from here. Fred, have a seat
please.” The groom said calmly now, very much in control. He strolled
back to his position, next to his bride.
His bride held his hands anxiously in a bid to coax him to calmness
when he shrugged her off roughly. Fred slowly sat down wondering what
was up. I’d met Fred a couple of times in a couple of our heavy friday
night outing sessions in the past. A loud mouth and an irritant when the
booze was in. Didn’t fancy him much.
“I want to thank you all for coming to my wedding, the groom
continued. It has been a day I have looked forward to for as long as I
can remember; after I met this stunningly beautiful woman and asked her
to marry me.”
Mixed feelings. My gaze shifted to the bride. Beautiful and perplexed. The murmurs continued in the hall.
“We dated for three years. THREE WHOLE YEARS…before I mustered the
courage to ask her to marry me. And she said yes.” He said, looking at
her.
“In those three years, I remained chaste, faithful, respectful and
committed to no one but her. All I wanted in return was what I gave. I
wanted her to reciprocate my love…” His voice broke.
The tension in the hall was palpable. The bride was shocked beyond
words. She stood up and held his hands. We could hear snatches from the
microphone.
“….honey….is the problem? ….is the matter? …you drunk?”
“Sit down, woman!" He yelled. "You are the problem! And I’m not drunk. I’m just heartbroken.”
The brides father rose in anger and so did many other family members on the side of bride. This was an insult.
“How dare you?! He shouted, red with rage. How dare you insult my
daughter! I always suspected you were a worthless man!!” He raged on. So
did the wife. Others followed suit. It was pandemonium. I watched on in
shocked silence.
On the grooms side, there was shock and silence. The close cousin to
the groom who was also one the grooms men quickly walked towards the
groom with Fred meekly following. There was a heated argument between
groom and cousin and as Fred joined the fray, the groom, who held a
half-empty glass of wine, poured the contents on Fred’s face before
anybody could react! The hall ignited in screams and shrieks of shock
and excitement. A lot of guests got on their feet. Once again, the
i-Phones, the i-Pads, the Galaxies came out to video this unexpected
scene.
“That guy, he said, pointing to Fred, is my best friend…my best man!
The kind that will smile in your face and stab you when you turn your
back.”
At this, the bride gave a loud wail and fainted.
“Aah. He mocked, she’s finally gotten the picture.”
Family members rushed to her aid and tried to resuscitate her. By
this time, speculations filled the air. The hall was abuzz with movement
as guests surged forward towards the stage of the action. It was nearly
a stampede as nobody wanted to miss out on this unexpected drama. The
father of the bride, in a bid to avert what was fast turning into a
horrible situation, in a loud voice requested everyone to leave the
hall; that there were some family issues to sort out and of course, he
was ignored.
“Don’t leave. All the food and drink I paid for are for your
enjoyment. I have a nice story to tell about what transpired last
night.” He loosened his tie and took off his jacket. He was sweating
profusely now despite the low temperature in the hall due to the large
split unit air conditioners that were on at full blast.
The bride came to and after a brief conversation with the family that
surrounded her, she rushed to her husband’s feet, tugging and begging.
He seemed to consider for a few seconds before he strode away. She held
on to his trousers as he struggled to move.
“Leave me alone woman. Or would you rather tell the story?” He asked.
“Honey please! She screamed, with tears in her eyes. Don’t do this to
us! I love you. It was a mistake. It’ll never happen again!”
In the ensuing commotion, I noticed Fred gradually retrace his steps
to the nearest exit to flee the scene. I swung into action and
intercepted him firmly.
“Going somewhere?” I asked menacingly, enjoying myself immensely.
He backed away in terror. I was six feet tall and muscular. He knew he stood no chance against me.
“Please, don’t allow that Judas leave. He must feel the indignation of my guests for what he did.” I replied with a quick nod. The full attention of about a hundred or
so eyes faced him. I felt the energy of condemnation in their stare as I
stood right behind him. He was as guilty as sin and suddenly I pitied
him. Seeing no way out, Fred went down on both knees, his head down and
said, “Perry, just kill me now and be done with it. I don’t deserve
mercy.”
The murmur of the crowd arose and fiery insults were hurled at Fred. For a moment, I feared for his safety.
Perry replied with contempt, “I’m no murderer. I just want to expose you for the false friend you are.”
To the crowd of guests who looked on anxiously, he said, pointing to
Fred, “This friend whom I chose as my best man; a childhood friend, the
brother I never had has been sleeping with this woman behind my back!” He pointed to his wife on the floor by his feet, wailing in her
beautiful white wedding dress, her make-up ruined. It was a horrible
sight. My heart ached as I saw the life of this beautiful woman go up in
flames on what was supposed to be her happiest day. All for a moment of
stolen passion, a moment of indiscretion.
Exclamations and loud murmurs took over. Suddenly, I felt complicit
in this show of shame and I regretted it deeply. The bride’s father put
his hands on his head in shame as his wife shook with tears by his side.
Others shook their heads in disbelief. The evils that spewed from the
mouth of some of these beautifully dressed guests was unimaginable. I
left my guard post behind Fred for fear that the invectives would affect
me and my unborn kids.
Perry continued his narrative of the events that transpired the
previous night. How he found them humping the life out of each other in
his sitting room floor when he stole out of his bachelor eve party in
search of Fred who was to have arrived back at the party with the drinks
he was sent to fetch. I felt sick to my stomach at the sordid details
that spewed from Perry who was now fully under the influence of alcohol.
The electronic coverage of this nightmare continued with the numerous
gadgets. In a few minutes, It would be all over YOUTUBE, facebook and
twitter. I tried to imagine a caption for what I’d just witnessed but my
wit failed me. A few people had begun to leave already. I took a cue
from them and agreed it was time for me to leave too. I grabbed an
unopened bottle of Hennesey and strolled to my car outside the
magnificent building. I’ll have to drink myself silly and hope to forget
this experience…this joyful occasion turned nightmare. But I had to ask myself,
was it really worth all the trouble? Why didn’t Perry call off the
wedding? Why embarrass his wife and her family and even himself in this
way?
Some people just can’t handle heart break, can they?
Malcolm O. Ifi.
Follow Malcolm on twitter @saymalcolm
First published on June 8, 2012; 10:13 am at http://t.co/hvRTVPXn
