A four cornered poky room that serves as Dr. Peter's office, accommodates a motley of academic material, among other unpleasant creatures. You could perceive the fragrance of intelligence while peering through the cramped office.
Dr. Peter had slinked in there, through the back door, that hot Monday afternoon, to avoid being detected by his students, who were thronging around a metallic door that serves as the main entrance to the nest of intelligence.
Nest of intelligence is what Mr. Peter's office was fondly called.
The students had clustered around the front door hoping that they would have him vet a chapter of their project, so they could proceed to the next chapter.
Dr. Peter on the other hand, had to avoid them because the sun had unleashed its fury on his delicate skin and his bones were obviously revolting against him. It seemed like they were threatening to tear open his skin, to free themselves from such a workaholic body they were imprisoned in.
He was in the field earlier on with the commissioner of arts and culture, inspecting collections of artifacts that were to be moved into a newly erected art gallery in his state of residence.
While moping around the compacted office, he recalled how he had submitted a proposal for the construction of the largest art gallery in West Africa. That was some years back. Many had seen the proposal as a dreamy tale. He was even said to be living in la-la land.
Such blabberings wasn't new to Dr. Peter, who had over the years undertaken countless daring projects. He would never understand why some people keep on doubting the actualization of his initiatives, even when he had over time mastered the art of shaming his critics. He was quite an artist.
"I guess some people were destined to doubt me." That's the only explanation that made sense to him. "And I'll keep shaming them." He muttered to himself again.
The honourable commissioner of arts and culture, having known Mr. Peter for many years, banked on his reputation, and convinced the state government to embark on the gigantic project.
Well, it turned out good. The project drew many investors to the state.
Mr. Peter, obviously exhausted, plopped on a chair that was seated by a table, which had heaps of books on its dusty surface. It was a monday, and he had hardly stayed in the office the previous week. That was because he was encumbered with the launching of the historic art gallery. He started the project, he had to see to its smooth launching. And that's what he did.
The launch was a success. It was an epoch-making event. More feathers were added to Mr. Peter's cap.
While on the foamy chair he earlier plopped on, he absentmindedly slapped the table's surface. That led to the formation of grimy fountains, which glided towards the dimly frescoed ceiling.
Ignoring the dust he raised, which was now twerking to every part of the room, he brought out a file and started inspecting its content. As he was flipping through its pages, he gradually drifted into dreamland.
Dreamland isn't a strange country to Mr. Peter. In fact he had gotten most of his inspiration from there; including the design of the recently built art gallery.
As soon as he shut his eyes, he came face to face with the most magnificent edifice he had ever seen in his lifetime. He used to brag that he has seen all the beauties that lie in the world, in his over 30 years of being both an excellent creator and an astute appreciator of art. He was a seasoned aesthetician, yet he was spellbound by the beauty his eyes beheld.
He drifted further into the world of fantasies, but was nudged back to reality, when he felt a cold creature slithering over his bare foot. He had removed his shoes and socks while resting on his office's chair.
Alas! It was a snake.
At this point he had no choice but to blow his cover. And he did. He gave out a thunderous yell that reverberated through the office.
Clearly that was an SOS. The students who were congregating by the front door, without words, knew that someone in the office was in grave danger. One of the students, who was quite hunky, brave and vigilant, broke open the office's door by slamming his rocky body against it. He was able to save Dr. Peter from being bitten by the venomous beast.
It was ironic, considering the fact that he was rescued from a snakebite by one of the folks he was trying to hide from. That guy was an unlikely hero.
Mr. Peter knew that it was time to go home to the cuddles of his lovely wife.
He has to be working from home, while he pays for his office to be fumigated and re-arranged against his eventual return.