Around 11 a.m. on Monday morning, I had just finished doing laundry. I went inside, pulled off my shirt, and faced the solar fan directly opposite me to receive the breeze that would dry off the sweat on my body. I should have gone to the bathroom immediately, but no—I was hungry too, and I wanted to eat first before using the bathroom...at that moment, I was warming water to make tea
Just as I sat down, I heard a feminine voice calling from the space I use for work. "Who's here ooo? Is anyone here?!"
The voice didn’t sound familiar, so I responded with a shout from the room, “Please, I’m coming oooh!” I picked up my shirt and tried wearing it over my head while I ran toward the space, struggling with the shirt that was covering my face.
As I got to the space and finally pulled the shirt off my face, I met a typical example of the girl Lojay meant when he sang MONALISA.
Do you want me to describe her?
Ordinarily, because I’m light in complexion, light-skinned people don’t usually attract me—but this one, she was exceptional. Her complexion was exactly like the one I once saw in the river when I was still living in the village…"mami-water" (mermaid. Yes, I once saw a mermaid in the river). She was average in height, with natural hair—the type all men want their wives to have because it costs just $0.3 to maintain. She was dressed in a black-on-black outfit, and that perfectly complemented her complexion.
Okay, back to reality. As I opened my eyes and saw her, I was completely shocked. I was dumbfounded—I didn’t know how to ask her what she was looking for because she wasn’t holding a bag of clothes like someone who came to patronize me. She, on the other hand, was also dumbfounded. She only greeted me with, “Good morning,” and kept mute while staring at me as struggled to finally wear my shirt.
After about 10 seconds of silence, muteness, and staring, I decided to be the man and broke the silence with, “Yeah, welcome. Do you have work for me?”. I used my magic deep voice as usual.
“Ohh, please—I need your fuel gallon. We wanted to buy fuel and we couldn’t find the exact place we kept ours,” she said in a very faint and beggarly voice.
Who am I to refuse her that?
It’s not every day that an angel walks to my door—except the invisible ones that I don’t see, but I know they’re there. I ran inside quickly, got the gallon, and gave it to her. I heard her say “thank you” with a faint Yoruba-ic prostate as she walked away, heading back to their office.
Cut oooh! Cut ooooh!
This is a fiction.
Thanks for reading.
Photo: Freepik
Video: YouTube
