Before I carry out the instructions given to me by the infamous MadBastard I’d like to first apologise to my friend Tula. I thought this whole ‘taken’ thing was a joke. Thanks for not telling me…. how was I supposed to know what you were dealing with? *sigh* I’m sorry. I’m just a bit shaken up. I hope we can put this behind us when all this is over.

28 Sep 2011 11:57

Good day sir,

I noticed you seem to find pleasure in other people’s misery. I am pleased. Seems we have one thing in common. You have been chosen to deliver this message to TheToolsman via that pathetic excuse of a blog you run.

Go to your room. Check for T-shirt drawer and search for your Manchester United Jersey. You shall notice that the badge is missing. Check your underwear drawer, your pink flower-patterned boxer-shorts has a huge hole in its crotch. Failure to comply with our with my instructions will result in you loosing both your heart and your ‘member’. I jest not.

Now follow the following instructions carefully:

1) Open a new blogpost. Title it ‘Proof’.

2) Write a personal note to the TheToolsman apologizing for your insensitivity.

3) Paste a copy of this email below the apology.

4) Put up the attached picture of ‘her’ and post it at exactly 2:15pm.

5) Go to TheToolsman’s blog. Comment on Taken 3. Simply write: ‘Proof’ followed by the link to the blogpost then ‘the message below.

This message is for TheToolsman:

We have given you proof in good faith. Cross us again & we will not be so accommodating. You have 2hours to carry out the instructions delivered by ‘the Duck Lipped one’ yesterday. For every 30 minutes that lapses after the new deadline will result in a mutilation. We shall put up pictures of her severed body parts with clock work precision.

You have been warned.


Posted: September 28, 2011 in Uncategorized

I loved heR first you see.

Way before any of them even knew heR. I didn’t know it then, didn’t even understand the concept of love at that age, I’m not sure I fully grasp it now but I know this to be true.

I first met heR when I was ten.

A lost & lonely little boy. I met heR in my english class, I wasn’t even paying attention but the minute I saw heR I was hooked. Totally. Irreversibly. Undeniably. Hooked.

That was how this love affair began. It was innocent, it was deep, it was beautiful. ShE was the first person who took me seriously, the first to truly understand me. ShE was always there, even when I shut everyone else out. ShE loved me & I heR. I never told heR but I’m sure shE knew….even then.

We were soon parted, I went off to university and even though I tried to stay in touch we grew apart in time. I stopped writing, I lost heR. I didn’t even notice that shE was gone. That shE had walked out of my life completely, left without a trace.

I found her again back in 2010 I think; on blogsville of all places, while scrolling through some dude’s blogposts, Kelvin’s blog. We reconnected once more. Slowly at first, unsure if would last this time. So many words I couldn’t say, should have said but didn’t.

You see slim & I have always jumped in & out of each others lives. This time was different though, this time we were actually friends, confidants, mutual shrinks. She encouraged me to start writing again. Reminded me how good it felt to weave stories out of nothing and create something beautiful. She stoked the burning flames of passion in me till they consumed me.

I’m not here to explain to you why I love heR, or that I knew before others so I should have sole rights to heR heart. A lot of people fell in love with heR before me. I’m not even going to tell you about all the wonderful things we do together. Yes shE’s unfaithful, sharing heR gifts like Mrs. Santa Claus, giving it up for small doses of attention, but I don’t care.

I’m not jealous, I can share. I’ll never stop loving heR though, no matter what. So say what you like. Put all her lovers in a box and call us talent-less fools. I don’t care, nobody loves heR like I do. I’ll never leave her, not for a day.

I love wRiting.


(If you clicked on the link on KWAL’s blog then this little note is for you)

HAHAHA HEEEEDIOTS!!! Shey u wanted ‘inside scoop’ ni? Unfortunate perzins like u (Oloriburuku n’iyen). May your friends never sell you out for cheap publicity in Jesus name.

This post is dedicated to slim & kelvin. I love you guys but I’m tired of seeing your love life trending on twitter. 😛 Thanks for getting me to write again and introducing to other fascinating writers on blogsville. WordPress rocks yo!!!

FreshPrinz Out.

Posted: September 8, 2011 in Musings, Short Stories


Posted: August 11, 2011 in Short Stories, Uncategorized

As written by BoukkieO:

He walked briskly on the pedestrian bridge, not that people would think anything was out of place if he ran, but he walked, like every other hasty passer-by on the streets of Oshodi. He got off the bridge and resisted the urge to run to the BRT bus stop, he settled for the brisk pace. He stopped in front of one of the vendors to get a ticket. Why was the guy this slow? He paid, snatched the ticket from the vendor -a move with left the vendor shouting “oga, take it easy na, haba!”- and hurriedly entered the bus. He couldn’t be bothered with the vendor. He made his way to the back of the bus and sat quietly in a corner. Now if the bus would just fill on time. He adjusted his baseball cap so it would hide more of his face, and looked down to see if the over-sized jacket was concealing his shirt. Ah, people were entering the bus now. He needed to appear normal, so he turned his face to the window, the view that greeted him brought a sad smile to his face; the hawkers, with trays of ‘robo’ and ‘dodokire’, pure, poor and bottled water, advertising their wares at the top of their lungs, the muffled voices of men over PASs calling out destinations: “Obanlende! Yaba, Obalende!”. Half-filled buses with passengers either fanning themselves or dozing, middle aged women selling ‘paraga’ (local gin) in the corners, hairdressers way-laying young ladies, begging to make their hair, making promises of expertise and quality. The garage touts harassing drivers with weed – deepened voices: “oga, oya now, e fun mi l’owo”, the cars and buses driving past at top speed and the scared pedestrians running as far as their legs could carry them across the street. These people had freedom, they had lives. He didn’t, not anymore, he wouldn’t, never again. He still couldn’t explain what possessed him. As the bus started moving, he put his mind on replay.

In his mind’s eye he pictured huge frame that housed their wedding picture; they were all smiles and hopeful eyes. They had been the perfect couple then, crazy in love, resolute in their believe that love would be enough. No one would’ve thought that two years later, their marriage would be in the deplorable state that it was. He was once in love with her, madly even, but somehow, resentment had set in. Was it because she had a job and he didn’t? Even when he was working, she earned more than he did, and consequently, she paid most of the bills.

They had disagreements more often since he lost his job. In fact, these days, their disagreements often lead to fights. It never mattered who was right and who was wrong, no one ever backed down. She’d hit him first, he’d hit her first; it didn’t matter, he would beat her black and blue. He admired her way with make-up though, a lot of things a little powder and lipstick can conceal. He smiled sadly and turned to get a bottle of Vodka, that had been his repose lately. The colorless liquid made him forget his sorrows and float in mid-air. He remembered their last fight. He had gone out the previous night to blow some of the money he took from the account she opened for Pelumi, their beautiful one-year old. The child was the only thing that could bring some semblance of a smile to his face these days. But she was at his parents’ so things were not smiling at all. Funny thing, Jane still wasn’t aware that he took the money. He came home that day drunk as hell. He had to leave his car at the bar and let his friend drive him home. She was waiting, sitting on the sofa with her eyes fixed on the screen, but she was seeing nothing. Immediately the doorbell rang, she jumped up and opened the door to a staggering, red-eyed husband.

“My God! Where have you been? What is this stench? I’ve been…”

“Please, stop the racket, I have a headache.”

“What is this now? You’ve never been this drunk, is it this bad? Is this what you’ve turned to?”

“I’ll tell you one more time; stop that noise” he said, raising a finger threateningly.

“Alcohol won’t help you! You best dust your papers and start looking for a job. Small thing now, you’ll be yelling that you’re the man of the house, what sort of man…”

Whack! A slap across the face, and then, wham! A blow, and then another…Her face was still bluish black and her cheek was slightly swollen when she went out that morning. He didn’t like beating her though, but usually felt better after he did.

So there he sat, drowning in the bottle and trying not to think of what to make of his life. She unlocked the door from outside and walked in with a bag of groceries. She dumped the bag on the ground and made her way towards him. Was he drunk or did she look angry? Oh well, he couldn’t be bothered.

“Deji! Deji! How dare you?”


“How could you withdraw money from Pelumi’s account without telling me? And what did you use the money for anyway? Still putting your signature on all the bars in Lagos or are you spending on women now? Have you added womanizing to your list of problems? What?”

“Don’t talk to me like that, besides, she’s my daughter, and whatever is hers is mine” he was glaring now.

“Yea, she’s your daughter alright; only thing is THAT’S MY FUCKING MONEY!! So because I made you a signatory you think you can just withdraw the money in the account?”

“Lower your voice or you’ll be sorry” he said deceptively calmly

“What will you do that you haven’t done before? Beat me up?” He walked away from her into the kitchen, trying to get away from her, from the noise. His head was already banging.

“Don’t you walk away from me, I’m talking to you!” she yelled, as she stomped after him

“Woman, leave me alone!” he barked, but she wasn’t deterred. She kept up the raving, ranting, name calling and finger pointing.

“Girl’s gonna turn out to be a slut like her mother anyways”. Thwack! A stinging slap across his face. “How dare you call me a slut, it’s your mother that’s the slut, do you hear? Your moth..”

In one fluid motion, his hand found the butcher’s knife lying on the kitchen counter and he plunged it into her, then he hacked, and cut. There were blood stains all over him but he didn’t see. He left the knife in her neck. Five minutes later, the blind rage and all traces of alcohol gone, he realized the magnitude of what he’d done, so he grabbed a jacket hanging over the kitchen door, and jumped out through the window.
He took the back gate out of the building, ran through bushes until he found the road and made his way to a bus stop.

The passenger sitting next to him was tapping him, forcing him back to the present, seemed like had been tapping him for quite some time. He shook himself out of his reverie and turned to face him.

“Bros, are you ok?”

He realized that a single tear had fallen down his cheek and he quickly wiped it.

“Where are we?”


He got out of the bus, without answering the concerned passenger and entered the bus park. He had no specific destination in mind, until he heard “Kano, Kadun, Last bus!”

He entered the bus; he needed to get far, far away from what he did, far away from himself, far from the nightmare that was now his life.


As some of your must have figured out already this story was actually inspired by real events. On the 24th of June this year a 30yr old man stabbed his wife to death. Why? Nobody knows. Stories like this one make me wonder why people stay in troubled marriages for that long. I’m not advocating for divorce but you have to admit that it’s a better option than suffering silently in an abusive marriage.

We’d love to hear your comments on this story and your opinions on abusive relationships in general and the issue of divorce. Thanks.

Awero 2

Posted: August 5, 2011 in Short Stories

First of all I’d like to congratulate Ms. Funke Osisami for winning on our challenge from yesterday. MallamSaywerr should have probably won based on his theory BUT he’s a ‘friend-of-the-house’ & as such was disqualified (sorry femi). Now, moving on to today’s story, here’s Alero 2, the final story by @BoukkieO.

Awero awoke to the sound of shouts, wails and footsteps. She knew what the lament was about, this was the second time in three weeks that the procession would pass her house; the second time two men would be found dead in the forest.

“Awero!” Her mother wailed as she ran into her room, “Come and see o! They have found two more dead men in the forest”.

“Ehen? Who and who is it this time?” she asked sleepily as though she didn’t already know.

“It’s Moshoodi o, moshoodi the mechanic and Ojo, iya alakara’s sister’s son.”

“Eeya!” she said drily and turned her side as though to continue sleeping.

“Which kind of thing is this ehn Olorun? Ah, I’ve always suspected that there was something in that forest” she rambled on as she left Awero’s room to go back and join the growing procession outside.

Awero was glad to be left alone; she wasn’t really up to her mother’s long commentaries that morning. Three weeks ago, it was Dauda’s body that was found first, by one of the young men who went into the forest to get firewood; it was lying by the Odan tree. When the man moved him and saw that he was dead, he went to call his friends. On getting to them, he met them staring at another dead body – Chief’s. Oddly, Chief’s body had started to rot. They carried both bodies to the village center and the wailings and the laments began.

Some women didn’t even see what the men were carrying before they started jumping up and down and crying. Chief’s wives graced the scene with various octaves of wailing and shouting: “baale mi o, baale mi o! (my husband, my husband)”. Awero didn’t go to the village square to look at the bodies; she felt sorry for Dauda, but not Chief. The pig got what he deserved. She heard about the rotting; “Good” she said inwardly, “that would teach him not to cheat young girls in his next life”.

She still remembered how he handled her roughly in the forest that day, threatening her with a cutlass, well, who is dead now? The other two men, they wanted a piece of her, and they got it. But she couldn’t dwell on that, she wouldn’t. She had one more, just one more to go, and she would be free.

Yeye had come into her room yesterday again after the meeting, saying she was impressed and re-assuring her of their pact. It was with this thought in mind that she got up, dressed and headed for the village square. People were gathered to look at the new dead bodies. Some women stood afar off in groups, spoke and waved their hands over their heads as though to ward off the evil. Men also gathered in groups conversing soberly, hats in hand.

Few minutes later, the bodies were taken away to be buried, and the Baale (Chief/Town Head) came to speak to them. He started an excruciatingly long speech about how the events of the past weeks were saddening and the forest was now a no go zone, and so on, but Awero couldn’t be bothered. Her eyes roamed the crowd, lingering just an extra second on each person until her eyes met his. He was smiling at her. She had been avoiding seeing him; she didn’t want to talk to him before her mission was complete, so she turned her face away.

Dare was a good looking, promising young boy. He was nothing like any of the other men, in fact, he was the only guy she liked in the village, and now, he was making his way towards her.

“Awero, where have you been hiding? I’ve asked after you from your mother several times since I came back from the city; didn’t she deliver my message?”

“Yes, she did”

“So why have you been hiding?”

“I’ve not been hiding, I’ve just been busy”

“Let’s go away from here, so we can talk”

They walked away from the Square and somehow, they got to the paths that lead to her house. Dare did most of the talking, telling her about the days he spent in the city and the things he saw. She told him she needed to get going because she had some errands to run for her mother, so he let her go, but promised he would visit her at the canteen really soon. As she headed back, she spotted Akambi the village drunkard or rather, he spotted her.

“ hehe, hawayu?”

“I’m fine” she said, eyeing him with disgust

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like how?”

“Oya, follow me; I forgot to give your mother money for the rice I ate this afternoon, come and collect it”

She followed a few steps behind the staggering man, covering her nose with her hand because of the stench of alcohol. When they got to his house, she stood outside, but he invited her in

“Come inside na, are you afraid?”

She stepped in quietly, and he quickly locked the door. She knew what he wanted to do; in fact, she thought his movements were rather precise for someone who was drunk. She didn’t argue when he ordered her to lie on the mat. As he did what he wanted with her, she thought about the reason why she was doing this. She had to if she wanted to live. Yes, Yeye had told her that.

She remembered that meeting now, when Yeye had told her to bring five male lives in exchange for hers. Awero knew what to do to accomplish this feat; she was no novice, she had given sacrifices before and this was her chance to move higher in rank. If she failed however, she knew that the penalty was death. She didn’t want to die, not yet. She wanted to stay alive, and who knows? Maybe the gods would favor her and Dare would marry her and take her to the city. So when the drunkard rolled off her, she knew exactly what would happen; in a few minutes, he would begin to choke, and then he would die. She didn’t want to be there when it happened, so she got up quickly, and headed home.

As she got to her room, she felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen; it passed just as quickly as it came, but as she took another step, it came back with greater force. She felt something warm trickle down her legs and she raised her wrapper to the sight of blood; she knew what this meant, she tried to scream for her mother, but no words formed, she was losing strength, so she dragged herself to her mat and sat quietly. Life was ebbing out of her fast, and all her actions and hopes were flashing before her eyes, “but I fulfilled the conditions” she wondered in disbelief, and “Yeye promised.. she promised…”. As she took in her last breath and her eyelids came together for the last time she could swear she heard Yeye’s whispery voice…….laughing.


Posted: August 4, 2011 in Short Stories

Hi everyone. Today I bring you another beautiful short story written by the talented Bukola Omotoso (@BoukkieO). It is set in a small village that once existed in South Western Nigeria a long time ago.

Without further ado I bring you……Awero. 🙂

She held the mirror away from her so she could see as much of her as the tiny thing would allow. Her face was flawless and her skin was radiant and she smiled at the image that stared back at her; the picture of a 17 year old who didn’t know the ways of the world. Her mother’s call brought her back to earth: “Awero! Answer me and let’s go jo!” Awero took one final look at herself in the mirror and made her way to the front of the house

“I’m sorry Maami” but her mother was not done just yet: “I don’t even know what you keep staring at in the mirror sef, is it more than this? “O ga o! Hmmph.”

And all the way to their little canteen, she raved about how men had been milling about her and how if she wasn’t careful, she would get pregnant and they would have to secretly pack her things to the man’s house with polybag in the middle of the night, but Awero was only half listening; she had a host of other things on her mind.

Soon enough, a skinny man made his way towards the canteen; Awero couldn’t make the figure out in the distance, but as he drew closer, she saw that it was Dauda. There was a competition between him and Sogo to see who would get there first, not just because the food was super delicious, but because they hoped to have some time alone with Awero before the crowd came. The girl was a looker, with curves in all the right places.

They never succeeded in spending time alone with her, because of her ever present and all seeing mother. But that morning, as Dauda approached, Awero sized him up; he wasn’t really that bad, except maybe for the blackened teeth, but that didn’t matter, she didn’t have time. Dauda grinned from ear to ear partly because he was happy he got there first, but mostly because Awero was smiling so pleasantly at him. He secretly thanked the gods for whatever soap he bathed with that morning.

“Awero, ‘Wero! Ba won i?”

“Good Morning Broda Dauda”

“Good Morning Awero, where is your mother?

“She’s at the back”

“Get me two wraps of Fufu. I eat Fufu a lot that is why I’m strong like this” he flexed one scrawny forearm and Awero smiled shyly and left to bring his meal. When she placed his food on the table, he grabbed her forearm and pulled her back to sit on his lap.

 “Awero, you know you’re pretty abi?”. Awero smiled and nodded with her eyes averted. “I like you o. Infact, I love you. I want us to know each other more” then she turned her face to him and said: “really?”, her face contorted in mock surprise.

“Yes o. Ahh, infact I can swear by Ogun, you don’t know how much I love you o” then he touched his index finger to the ground and then put it on his tongue.

“Ok, if you say so, I have to go now, because Maami will soon call, but meet me by the Odan tree at 5 o’clock.”

“Which Odan tree? The one in the forest?”

“Yes broda.”

He nodded, smiled and let her go.

The morning and the afternoon couldn’t disappear fast enough for Dauda, but for Awero, it was a pretty busy day. Chief visited the canteen to eat, he rarely did, but when he did, two things happened; everyone hailed as soon as he entered: “Sheef, sheef!”, and then he would shamelessly flirt with Awero and propose to marry her. Awero’s mother of course always screamed from the backyard that her daughter would not be wife number four.

Sogo was also there, although everyone wondered why he came late that day. The usual banter took place; he even took off his shirt to show off his muscles. He was a good farmer, a hard worker and everyone knew.

Soon it was 5’o clock, Mama Awero had left for the market women’s meeting, the crowd at the canteen had thinned out, the new girl her mother employed was eager to please, so Awero strode away as though she wasn’t going far, as she walked the path to the forest, she looked over her shoulder several times to make sure no one saw her or followed her.

Some meters into the forest, a strong hand encircled her mid-section and the other swiftly covered her mouth.

 “I’ve been waiting for you” He said, and shoved her roughly to a side, and showed her the newly sharpened cutlass that was lying on the grass
“If you make noise, I’ll slice you into pieces with that thing, understand?”. Awero didn’t nod, she didn’t make a sound, she just watched with an unfathomable expression as he roughly had his way with her. When he was done, he helped her up, and tightened the rope on his trouser. “Good girl, it’s good that you didn’t…” Awero turned, and went on her way, still without saying a word.

Later that night, as she lay in bed and her mind went back over the events of the day, Awero heard her window move slightly as the breeze blew, but she felt the presence even before the breeze. She didn’t turn, didn’t move, she didn’t need to.

“How many more?”

“Three, my child. Hurry, time is running out” And without another word she was gone, as noiselessly as she came.


Oh so you want more? I told you it was long. No? *shrug* Fear not, the second and final part will be put up at noon tomorrow. In the meantime I’d like you all to try to complete this tale as you see fit. The prize? Well its not zobo & gala (@MallamSawyerr is hoarding all the bottles of zobo imperial), and neither is it a BB 9800 (what do I look like? Ice Fish?). Nope, its a mere recharge card (N1500) to the person with the most interesting ending. Alright then, go on, you know you want to. 😉

Not another Nollywood story

Posted: August 3, 2011 in Uncategorized

I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I feel what she felt? I tried to fake it but my inability to lie betrayed my pretense. She respected my decision to not have sex with her but didn’t know the real reason why.

How I wished I was different. She was nice and kind hearted. However, I couldn’t see her other than how I saw my blood sister. She had tried, I had become close to her family, her brother became by brother, but much more.

I loved her brother, the way I couldn’t love her. I desired him in the most unacceptable way. I was extremely kind to him and in his naiveté was bare with me. He trusted me. He loved me too.

How do I handle this? How do I make him love me back like I wanted? I knew I shouldn’t have but I didn’t care anymore. I was conceited.

It all happened one day when I stayed over at her parents’ guest house just behind their home. I drowned him in alcohol, more than I knew he could handle. We laughed and played and told dirty jokes. I got dirtier and touchy.

He was uncomfortable but he liked it. I got him aroused. I played much more with him. How he tasted so good. His smooth skin felt like silk when I ran my hands all over him.

His lips and genders quivered with every touch and kiss I put on them. I defiled him, he winced with virgin pain yet we went on. It was a beautiful experience; I made love to him like he was my eternal soul mate.

Finally we both made it to Mount Olympus. We were supposed to settle in, bask in the atmosphere of love but he was quiet, deadly quiet.

“Are you ok?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, instead he wept. Not loudly but silent yet pained. He simply stood up and ran out. I only hoped he’d get over it soon.

The next morning was silent. No one came to tell me breakfast was ready, Erogo, my supposed girlfriend neither came to disturb me. I went on ahead to fellowship with my soon to be family.

The sight that greeted me will forever be etched in my mind. They were together as he sobbed and pleaded to be forgiven.

They all looked at me, the ‎​plague I was, I had brought shame to them all. Our wedding was to have been in 1 month.


A lot of people might not relate to this. I can already see some of you cursing the dude simply because of his sexual orientation and not because of his actions. Its not easy to be gay in this country of ours. All of the gay people I know are too scared to even confide in their close friends or family. Is it right? Is it fair? Should love impure simply because its between two men or two women.

Please use the comment box to share your views and comments. Thank you. 🙂

Like Air

Posted: August 2, 2011 in Poetry

Hello everyone. Before we move on to today’s treat I’d like to apologize for not putting up anything new in a while. July was a tough month for me. Had a lot of weddings and engagements on weekends and a lot of stuff on my desk on weekdays. To make up for this I plan on serving you guys a feast this August.

Now, today’s post was written by a truly remarkable young lady. She’s not a blogger but we’re working on making her a regular on ‘FreshPrinz’s Scroll’. Can I get an amen? No? Bad belle people.

Without further ado, I now present to you Miss Elo Osunde (@EloOsunde). Enjoy. 🙂


Like Air:

He is like air
Everywhere but not there
For her, persay
.. So she shares him.
With even the people,undeserving,
Of her.
.. She shares her
With the anonymous fingerprints on his chest.
Until she starts to look like
the stained lipstick
On a married man’s shirt,
Sound like the blinding scream of a hurting womans scent
And smell like the loud colours sitting and plotting on
another woman’s face.
She sips , once more the deception of a ring blessed,
Only to be hidden
in an unworthy man’s pocket.
But this time,
.. She shares them ..
In cups full of tears,
Plates full of sadness,
Stories told in scars
To whoever lends an ear.
Because he’s hammered her apart
She’s broke(n) now
But she longer accepts loans in
“I’m sorry” form.
This time it’s not a dream;
His kisses are like fire
Setting ablaze all the sweetness in
her mouth
Out of reach, he keeps
the sweet
coolness of water
But he is doing her an
unconscious favour
In that through lungs upended like her,
A downturned hourglass,
I finally breathed
And exhaled
Like air.


Comments, questions, interpretations, are all welcome. You can also use the comment box to express your own views on infidelity. Thanks.

Why Forever???

Posted: July 1, 2011 in Uncategorized

Before we begin today’s post I’d like to remind you that you can vote for your favorite bloggers at the blogger awards page.( click here ).

We at FreshPrinz’s blog (me, myself & I, the looney trinity) endorse the following blogs:

– The Toolsman’s Blog
– The Chronicles of Dania
– Obi Somto & Co
– Thoughts from a Mavericks Perspective
– My Scroll…..You Scroll……
– Afro Says
– Theatre of My Mind (ThinkTank)

Thank You. 🙂


……….Forever can never be long enough for me to feel like I’ve had long enough with u……….
(Marry Me- Train)

This is the first line of one of my favorite songs and hopefully it’ll be the song playing in the background when I get on one knee in the middle of a restaurant in Rio at half time of world cup game on June 8th 2014.

I love this song, its super sappy and makes me want to cuddle up with a special sombori, share a bottle of red wine and watch fashion tv, africa magic, or whatever it is she wants to watch at that moment and just be content. *sigh*. The first line of the song is kinda scary though. More like the first word. Forever.

Foooorrrrreeevvvveeeer……that’s a helluva long time o.

I was chilling with one of my treasured wednesdays (@ToluwalekeO) a few weeks ago while listening to this song & I decided to share my fears on this ‘forever’. I was wondering why it couldn’t just be on a contractual basis. Like two people vowing to treasure each other, in sickness & in health and all that other stuff but this time not ’till death do us part’ but for maybe twenty years or thirty years or even ten years. Of course the contract can always be renewed shortly before it expires or both parties can choose to amicably go their separate ways. No hard feelings no alimony, I’ll keep the kids thank u. Sounds good bah? No?

I can picture all the guys D’Banjin while reading this and babes shaking their heads in horror. Don’t be in a hurry to make conclusions jor, there’s more :P. We could do it like football. You get scouted, get courted, agree on terms, do a medical (no aids or gono here, pls move on) & then get signed. Now when signing for a team there is always a stipulated timeline, sign on fee, weekly wages, bonuses & even a buy-out clause, all this is explicitly stated. This would translate to stuff like your monthly housekeeping allowance, shopping allowances, new car whenever you get pregnant, an extra SUV if its twins, a private jet if its triplets and so on.

You cannot pull a Tevez mid-way through the season, we don’t do that here, honour your contract, shikena. Don’t be telling me how much you miss your siblings, did I force you to sign the contract? Did I put a gun to your head? You are also not allowed under any circumstances to enter talks with any other teams while still under contract, this means you can’t be flirting with my friends whether I am present or not.

The best part of this theory is that you can have multiple players on your team & even transfer windows (somebody said Amen? No?*shrugs*). Just imagine who signed some hot babe for like 20million euros but its been 3months and she’s not living up to the hype. Nothing to write home (or brag to your buddies) about, what do u do? You trade her in for TWO tried & tested Barbies (no daughters of Odin, we don’t do that here).

You’ll probably get the guys with the ‘wenger mentality’ signing the likes of willow smith or Lourdes Leon for cheap instead buying the more expensive but already established hotties like Kim K, Adriana Lima, Nicki Minaj, stacy dash. Beyonce would probably be like who?? Messi?? Yup, *rings bell*, you guessed right….lol…

I could go on & on but I’m sure you get the picture by now……*sigh*…. If only…..


To whom it may concern: These are my fantasies, I am allowed to think these happy thoughts once in a while. Doesn’t mean that I won’t love u always & forever. Someday ….”You’ll wear white & I’ll wear out the words I love u, cos you’re beautiful”. I am in irrevocably and unashamedly stuck on you and if things continue like this I’ll sign that lifetime ’till kpai do us part’ contract with a smile on my face.

(To all those doing *yimu* there, may the small chops at your wedding reception be tasteless :|)


Kindly use the comment box to share your own fears about marriage if any, or your love for sappy music, or what you’ll be doing on June 8th 2014, or your mother’s maiden name…………JUST COMMENT SHA. Danke. 😐

Today’s post was written by my good friend @chinnydiva (The Domina :D). Before you rush off to read & comment please remember to vote for your favorite bloggers at the blogger awards page.( ). I’d like to use this opportunity to endorse ‘The Toolsman’s Blog’, ‘The Chronicles of Dania’, ‘Obi Somto & Co’, ‘Thoughts from a Mavericks Perspective’, ‘My Scroll…..You Scroll’, ‘Afrosays’ & ‘Theatre of My Mind (ThinkTank). Oya go & vote. 😀


The school senate had put together this panel. In criminal cases such as this, they would usually let the law take its course, but Amy was the Vice Chancellor’s daughter. Or prodigal child as they called her when discussing amongst themselves. They needed to do damage control. The girl claimed she had been molested. As they all did.

I stared stonily ahead. At the senate members of EwaGoin University. Look at them. Judgemental pricks! I could tell they weren’t buying my story. With the penis on the table, it was a hard one to sell. I let myself get lost in my head, going slowly back to how it all began…to how the cock became a piece of furniture…


There was a knock on the door. Grudgingly, I got up from the bed to answer it.

Chewing gum loudly Sandra enters with Mandy. These my best friends, I could move mountains for them, or maybe just pull my panties.

Amy: haba! Where are you girls going all dressed up?

Sandra: Amy, there’s a mini party tonight o! Are you game? Mandy’s bobo just came into town with some of his friends, let’s go have some fun!

Amy: err…I dunno, not really feeling up to it. I think I’ll pass.

Maddy: Pass?! Babe have you forgotten how Tolu is? He parties HARD!! You sure don’t wanna miss this. And I know you light up the dance floor, with this your big bum bum you will just be killing guys.

Maddy jokingly patted my backside.
I lightened up immediately, Maddy always made me smile with her jibes.

Amy: oh well okay. I could definitely do with some boogie, where is it?

Sandra: Uptown hotel, hurry and dress up jare.

Amy: okay okay! Lemme find just the right clingy dress. I cannot carry last now.

At the hotel, Tolu and his friends; Festus and Wole were already getting the party started.

Festus: Tolu my guy, This one wey you carry us come this dead town, hope say pata go warsh?

Tolu: ah! Fes you never change! You too like woman! Anyway Maddy is coming with Sandra and an extra friend for you, so just chill.

Festus: Sandra is coming? Hot chick! Wole you are sorted now, I hope the extra chic is hot sha cos I won’t let any of you have fun if I’m not o!
Wole: hahaha! Abeg go siddon. So you’ve been giving my babe Sandy the eye eh? Let me catch you!

Tolu: guys, they are here, let’s act like the good boys they all wanna have.

The party carries on in full swing, alcohol was free flowing and they all took quick drags of shisha tinged with some weed. Amy was grinding Festus so bad it almost looked like they were dry humping on the dance floor. Eventually, she felt she needed to leave.

Amy: Sandy, i need to start going now o!

Sandra: haba babe chill now, we just barely got here. Are you not having fun?

Amy: I am but you know I have classes tomorrow now and moreover I don’t want to sleep with that Festus guy.

Sandy: babe chill, he won’t rape you now, just hang with us okay?

Zee: I dunno, lemme just ask him to take me home.

The suave bastard convinced me to stay some more and before I knew it, it was too late to leave. He promised he wasn’t going to touch me and would drop me off the next morning. *scoff* I should have known better. As soon as they got into the hotel room, he bolted it and began kissing and touching me, the alcohol responded(yeah, I always blame alcohol for all my bad behaviour).

Soon my dress came off, my bra was next. Licking, sucking, groping. And then I remembered. This wasn’t the plan. No, I don’t want this. I tried to push him off. Too strong, he pressed on.
Don’t. Stop. Please. My pleas got to his chest, and then bounced off. I screamed, cajoled him, even tried to trick him saying I wanted a bath. Still he came after me. In the end, he took it.

Forcefully at first, and then I just surrendered.
2 minutes later, he grunted and clambered off. Is this it? I thought to myself. All that fighting for just a 2 minute spit?

All night I stayed awake thinking. By morning, my resolve was firm. I broke the bathroom mirror and cut it off. To his look of shock and pain I said derisively, “no longer will you waste a woman’s time with it”.

Then I broke down and wept.

Posted: June 30, 2011 in Uncategorized

I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings; I was in a head hurt tremendously. I tried to move it, but the pain only intensified, then I touched it and felt the bandage, and then it all came back to me slowly. Oti proposed and I tried to get out of the hammock, I must have fallen and hit my head.

Suddenly I remembered: my head wasn’t going to be the only part of my body hurting when Pat, her parents, & even my parents found out what I’d been up to. How did i get myself into this mess? How could I have had an affair with my friends’s grandfather? This is preposterous!

It all began about two weeks after I first met Oti, my uncle Ekanem wanted me to attend an ‘Economic Summit’ with him, “I could use an intelligent, young lady’s point of view. Plus, you’ll get to use that econoomics degree of yours” he said. I did have, still have an interest in such things, gets my blood pumping and by brain spinning. Plus, my favorite uncle was asking and Pat was out of town. Actually, she was out of the country, so i went with him. After the event, I was speaking with one of the guest speakers and I was really going on and on and voicing my opinion and he was impressed.

So was Oti, who had been standing behind me and listening for quite some time. The speaker made to introduce us, but Oti told him we already met. We all stood talking for a while, and then the guest speaker excused himself and left us both alone. We made small talk for a while and then he said: “We should get together sometime, you should come by the house”.

Again, there was that look, those golden brown eyes. I just couldn’t figure out what it was all about but anyway I said, ” I will sir, if i can find my way”.

“James will come pick you up; just let me know when you want to come”

“Aright sir.”

A few days later, I was coming out of a library when I saw him do same.

“Ah, Bassie, how are you?”

“I’m fine sir”, I said with a smile. “I didn’t know you used this Library Sir, I come here often but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.”

“Well, I was looking for a book which, I just discovered that I don’t have one in my library so I came to check this one since it’s the close to my house”

“So did you find it?”

“Yes I did”. He held up a copy of ‘Taming the Shrew’…

We continued talking for a while, about books, and then I said, “I would love to see your library someday sir.”

“Oh, you’re welcome anytime, matter of fact, why don’t you come with me now? I would love to show you my collection.”

Since I had nothing to do immediately, I went with him. And that was how it began. The first few times I told myself I was only visiting for his library, and then when I found that we really talked often, I told myself it was merely our mutual love for books, arts and world politics that gave us so much to talk about. Still somehow, and i promise I don’t know how and i certainly didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. Somehow, I fell in love.

When I discovered the depth of my feelings for him, I stood back and asked myself how it came to that, but what did I expect? I spent so much time with him, and he was kind, compassionate, a good listener, a great teacher and all that. I reminded myself that this was my friend’s grandfather, and so I stayed away. At least I tried, but he wouldn’t let me go. He kept calling and even came to my house a couple of times (Heaven only knows how he got my address, thank God my parents were also out of town). I finally decided the best thing to do was to talk about it.

So, one day in his living room, I finally told him why I’d been avoiding him. I told him everything, told him the way I felt about him, dreading his reaction while at the same time hoping it would somehow bring me to my senses. I sat far away from him and I prayed he wouldn’t come near me. I guess he knew I was confused and nervous, and I needed to unburden myself, so he didn’t come near me – yet.

I had a feeling he fancied me, (or how do you explain someone who just won’t stop calling or visiting), but still I hoped he would say something like: “Come on, Bassie! You’re like my grand daughter! You’re Pat’s friend for goodness sakes!” Or something remotely related, but no, he had to tell me he felt the very same way.

Walking towards me and sitting himself beside me, he said: “In fact, since the day I first saw you, I’ve never really been able to get you off my mind”. *sigh* So much for hoping for a voice of reason. We talked at length, and by talk I mean I went on ranting about all the reasons why this was terrible, and he told me, “Please, please don’t try to run away from me, or what you feel. Don’t try to figure it out, l let’s just take this one day at a time and I promise you everything will be ok”.

“But how can you promise that?”

“Everything will be ok, don’t you worry”, he said with a reassuring smile.

I believed him; I trusted him, so I ignored that little nagging feeling at the back of my mind, decided to forgo all forms of rational reason. I decided not to think beyond the present and I snuggled closer into his embrace. Besides, what Pat didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.


I cried myself to sleep -again, and when I opened my eyes, I saw the nurse appointed to me. She smiled at me and said: “Oh, you’re up. Your Dad was here a while ago, he needed to get something, but he said he’d be right back.”

“Uhm, is he about six feet tall, golden brown eyes with dimples and gray hair by the sides of his head?”

“Yeah, could I be talking about any other?”

“Oh, ok”.

My parents were out of the country so I knew it couldn’t be my father. They had been begging me to come over since I was done with school, and I would have gone shortly after Pat did, but Oti happened. Besides, the nurse grinned extra when I was giving the description so I knew exactly who she was talking about.

Sure enough, he showed up just a few minutes later, just as the nurse was walking out of the room. “Welcome back sir, I was just telling your daughter that you were here earlier; you’re such a good father, and she’s lucky to have you”. He just smiled and said thanks. I couldn’t even laugh; father, that was manageable, try grandfather.

When I left the hospital, we talked, and sure enough, he had it all figured out, told me it was going to work out, but I knew Pat would never forgive me, and my parents, well, let’s just say family gatherings would be forever awkward, if we ever got invited at all. I thought long and hard and decided what to do; it wasn’t going to be easy, but I had to do it.

He tried to stop me, tried to tell me we could find another way, but I wouldn’t listen, I needed to leave. My parents were surprised but happy that I decided to change my mind and come stay with them.. I cried heart-wrenching tears as I packed my bags. He knew I was leaving the next day, and I figured it would be cruel not to say goodbye, so that night he stayed at my place. I wept all night in his arms, and I cried all the way to the airport, I even cried for most of the trip.

It’s been three years now, but I still think about him, everyday. How could I not, when I stared into those same golden brown eyes, saw that same disarming smile, everyday in my little Jamie. Someday he’ll wonder who his father is, someday he’ll ask. Someday we’ll have to see him again…..someday….

Posted: June 26, 2011 in Uncategorized