Slay Queen


Let me tell you a story.

Our story starts with Slay Queen getting a new notification from Facebook. Ekubo McBrian had just hit her up for the twelfth time today. She had only just accepted his friendship request since he sent it six months ago, but he was fast becoming a pain in the bum. She heaved a deep sigh and placed her phone back in her denim pocket.

“Madam, we don reach the place,” the cabman said.

She looked out of the window. The giant “Eko Hotel and Suites” sign at the top of the towering building welcomed her preying eyes.

“Okay,” she said as she paid the cabman and alighted from his overly comfy Metro taxi. She approached the entrance of the hotel and found her way to the private hall where she spotted her would-be company relaxing in a few seats away. He stood up and pulled the chair for her.

“I thought you would not make it,” he said in a soothing sonorous voice as she made her way into the seat.  Then he smiled.

“That smile,” she said, pointing to his face. “The one that got me.”

They had both met on Twitter during one of those feisty nights when Twitter Nigeria was agog with a trending topic. News of Toke Makinwa’s marital woes had just filtered into social media and the wisest Nigerians were postulating how it was all Toke’s fault. Slay Queen’s company, Ahmed Preeq, had a different view point. He did not blame Toke, neither did he blame Maje. He blamed God for giving men penises. His tweets on the subject were retweeted by hundreds of Twitterzens at lighting pace and someone retweeted one of such tweets to Slay Queen’s TL. The first thing she did was to view his avatar. He had his knob on full display. Then, she read his bio. It read “If you would like to fuck me, DM me.” She thought he was cocky, but she also thought he was cute.

She followed him and he returned the favour almost immediately by following her, as if he had been waiting all his life for this day. Then, she DMed him with the words “I would like to fuck you”. She was serious. He replied almost immediately too with “Date? Time? Venue?” He was serious.

At first, Slay Queen was astounded. She thought he was unreal, but she disregarded her shock and replied, “Next Saturday. 8pm. Eko Hotel, VI.”

Ahmed Preeq spent little time in replying “Not one second late.”

Today was the day. They were meeting for the first time.  The only words they said to each other at the table were the only words they had exchanged when she arrived. They stole glances at each other throughout the course of eating, without as much as a whisper. Slay Queen found this exciting and intimidating. She hoped he would live up to the latter part of his Twitter handle: “Preeq”. That was why she followed him on Twitter in the first place.

After they were done, Ahmed Preeq led her by the hand to his room. This was the moment she was waiting for.

Umm, I won’t trouble your innocent mind with disturbing graphic details of what transpired between them. Let’s just say they consumed each other in raw, passionate, mortal affections.

Now, after they were done, Slay Queen rose to use the bathroom.

“You want to pee?” Ahmed queried.

Slay Queen looked at him as he sprawled on the bed. “No, I’m taking a shower.”

“You feel dirty?” Ahmed joked.

Slay Queen heaved a sigh. “I prefer you in your quiet state.”  She walked into the bathroom, had a shower and came out fully dressed.

“What, you’re leaving?” Ahmed asked in surprise. “It’s like ten pm.”

Slay Queen walked to her Michael Kors bag, picked it up, pulled out an envelope and handed it over to Ahmed.

“What?” Ahmed asked in more surprise. “Is that supposed to be my bill? Relax woman, I’ve got your money. Just come back to bed.”

Slay Queen dropped the envelope on the bed and walked out of the room.


She stole a glance at her wrist watch as she beckoned on a taxi by the gate of the hotel. It was now twenty minutes past ten.

“The bastard,” she cursed under her breath, referring to Ahmed. Slay Queen had another meeting for eleven o’clock and had hoped she would be done with Ahmed before ten. But he had managed to bed her longer than she had expected. She was impressed with his skills. She was also impressed that he had kept to his Twitter handle. He was a good preeq.
A Metro taxi screeched to a halt before her, jolting her out of her reverie.

“Radisson Blu,” she said nonchalantly to the driver as she slotted into the back seat. The cab weaved its way through the fabulous and beautifully lit inner-city of Victoria Island and was at the magnificent Radisson Blu edifice in no time. Slay Queen paid off the cabman and made her way to the hotel. She was no stranger to the surroundings, so it was not difficult for her to locate Tokunbo CashMoney’s room. He was her next guest for the night. They had met on Instagram. He always liked her pictures, even when she did not know who he was. She was forced to return the favour by visiting his instagram page. That was when she was hooked. His pictures depicted his handle. He, figuratively speaking, drowned in wads of cash in all his instagram posts. She liked all his pictures. The rest, like they say, is history: They followed each other, exchanged contacts and agreed to meet tonight.

Slay Queen opened his hotel room door to a surprise: Tokunbo CashMoney had mints of dollars spread all over the king-size bed, with him at the centre. He was only clothed in shorts. He stood up to welcome Slay Queen, poured her a glass of wine, and then, started talking about a million things she would never remember. Her mind was still on the wads of cash she had just seen. Will he slay me on money? She thought to herself. Wow!!!

The night grew longer as Tokunbo talked on. Slay Queen had to interrupt him.

“Are we going to talk all night or are we going to fuck?” she said curtly.

Tokunbo was stunned. He had thought it was only appropriate that they had a conversation before doing anything, but whatever…

He started undressing her, but she pushed him to the bed, stripped him of his shorts and started working on him. He could not believe how wild she was. She worked on him like she was possessed. They consumed each other in rough, feisty, unapologetic sex. This went on for twenty minutes and was only cut short when Tokunbo climaxed. Slay Queen, who had been riding him, slid off his stomach to the bed. Tokunbo just laid there, gasping in excitement.

“You are awesome,” he said as he tried to stroke her hair.

She moved her head away. “You are a learner,” she replied. “I wasn’t finished.”

Her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. It was a new Facebook notification from Ekubo McBrian. He had just sent her another message. The message read:

“It’s a lonely night for me. I just got into town. I’m so cold. I wish you were here, but you won’t even accept my friendship request.”

She replied, texting “where are you?”

“Lekki. At home. Where are you?” he returned her text.

“On my way to your place. Send me your address” She texted back.
With that, she sprang out of the bed and headed for the bathroom with a grin on her face. As she closed the door, she heard Tokunbo CashMoney say, “Don’t take too long in there. I’m ready for another round.”

“I’m done with you,” she retorted. “Get my money ready.”

In no time, she was out of the bathroom. Tokunbo CashMoney looked at her in shock.

“Are you serious?” he asked, astonished.

Slay Queen pulled out an envelope from her bag and handed same to Tokunbo.

“For real?” he said as he hesitated to collect the brown paper. Slay Queen shrugged.

When Tokunbo realized she was not joking, he nonchalantly pointed to the bed and said, “They’re all yours.”

He was referring to the cash they had just made out on.
Slay Queen scrambled to the bed, quickly stashing away every note she could lay her hands on into her bag. After she was done, she ran her index finger across Tokunbo’s lips and licked her finger. With that, she scurried out of the room without saying a word. It was One o’clock in the morning.


Slay Queen found a cab which took her to Ekubo McBrian’s address which he had sent to her via Facebook messenger. Ekubo was at the gate to receive her. He led her by the hand into the palour. As he walked over to the bar to pour them a drink, Slay Queen said, “I did not come here for drinks.”

“O….kay,” Ekubo slurred.  “Do I get you water instead?”

Slay Queen shook her head. “Get me your bed.”

Ekubo McBrian could not believe his ears. She wanted to bed him so soon, even without knowing him?

“Are you a witch or something,” he joked as they made their way to his room.

“Yes,” she said, smiling charmingly at him.

Which girl beds a guy she hardly knows on the first date, in his house? Ekubo thought.

Before he could come up with an answer, he heard Slay Queen say, “You said you were cold. You have been buzzing me all day. I’m here to light up your world.”

It sounded poetic to Ekubo but he could not care less. He was actually cold and yes, he could do with some sex, but this…This was unreal.

“You do this to every guy who hits you up on social media?” he asked, as she sucked at his knob.

“Yes,” Slay Queen replied, with Ekubo’s knob in her mouth. Then she stopped. “Your body is actually warm.”

Ekubo shrugged. “But I feel cold.”

“I like it,” Slay Queen said.

They consumed each other with passion and venom late into the night. After they were done, Ekubo stood up to use the bathroom. He turned on the shower. While he was in there, Slay Queen’s phone rang.
She smiled at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey,” she whispered on picking the call.

“How parole dey go?” the voice on the other end asked in pidgin English.

“I dey rep my body count game as I been promise na,” she answered in a very low tone.

“Na lie,” the voice on the other end said in disbelief. “How many you don knack?”

“Three so far… I pick the first guy from Twitter, the second one from Instagram and the third one from Facebook…”

“Omo, you bad gaan. How you take measure them?”

“My guy, na their name I use o. The first guy get better prick, so na him prick I been go obtain. The second one get money….”

“And the third one nko?”

“Mehn, I no know wetin I go obtain from this guy sef. Him yeye name na McBrian…”

The voice on the other end burst out laughing. “Ehn, him name na McBrian abi? Where him dey stay?”


“Na big boy be that na. Check whether him get Macbook….”

Slay Queen’s roving eyes quickly scrutinized the room. There was no Macbook in sight. But she saw an iphone 6 sitting by the bedside. “No macbook. But I don see iphone…”

“Obtain am,” the voice on the other end advised.

Slay Queen scrambled across the bed to where Ekubo phone was. She quickly put the phone into her bag. “Done deal,” she said, laughing in low tone.

Just before she dropped the call, the voice on the other end said, “No mind all these yeye men. Shebi na toto dem want? Na toto dem go get.” Then, the line went dead. Slay Queen kept smiling.

Ekubo McBrian came out of the bathroom not long afterwards.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked.

“Because I’m leaving soon.”

“Wow, really?”
Slay Queen got up from the bed and started dressing up.

“You’re serious?” Ekubo asked, looking surprised.

Slay Queen pulled out an envelope from her bag and handed same over to Ekubo.

“It was nice meeting you,” she said with a bold smile on her face. As she headed for the door, she heard Ekubo say, “Wait.”

He pulled out an envelope from the drawer by his bed side and handed same over to Slay Queen.

“Keep it,” Slay Queen said. “I don’t want your money.”

“It’s not money.”

“So what is it?”

“A treasure.”

“Keep it. I don’t need your treasure. I sleep with men for a reason. I did not sleep with you for your treasure.”

“This treasure is not for the sex we had. I have been following you on Facebook for the last six months. Your pictures make me drool and weak and helpless…” He paused. “I got this for you in anticipation of whenever we would meet.”

“Oh. How thoughtful of you,” Slay Queen said as she collected the envelope.

“Don’t open it until you get home,” Ekubo advised.

“I won’t.”
With those two words, Slay Queen walked out of the room.

Ekubo McBrian dropped to his bed, with a wide grin on his face. He was excited his mission was accomplished. Then, he noticed Slay Queen’s envelope was still in his hand. He wondered what was in it. After spending the next thirty minutes contemplating what the envelope could contain, he decided to open it. There was a note inside. The note read:

“Hello sweetheart, I am a transgender and I am HIV positive. Deal with it.”

Ekubo felt his heart starting to beat irregularly. He had just bedded an HIV positive man.


Slay Queen found a cab as soon as she stepped out of the hotel premises. She gave the cabman an address as she slotted into the back seat. As they drove to her place in the thick of the night, Slay Queen heard herself burst out in laughter. Then her mind darted to the envelope Ekubo had given her. She wondered what was inside as she tore open the seal. Stacks of pictures fell from the envelope to the ground. Slay Queen reached for them. One after the other, she viewed the pictures. They were pictures of Ekubo in military apparel. The pictures appeared to have been taken somewhere in Africa. Some of the pictures were taken in refugee camps. In one of such pictures, Slay Queen could spot a signboard in the background with the inscription “Liberia”.

Is he a soldier? Did he go on a peacekeeping mission?

Then a phone in Slay Queen’s bag beeped. Slay Queen was certain it was not her phone. It was Ekubo’s. She reached for the phone. A text message had just come in. It was from a contact saved as “Doctor”. She opened the text message. It read:

“Hey Ekubo. The tests results have just come in. I don’t know how to say this man. But the tests have confirmed that, your fever is not normal. I’m afraid you may have contracted the Ebola virus. Call me when you get this message.”

As wise as the ants

By Kolawole Adepoju


As the horn sounds reverberate

The soldiers stand for fate

A bind to their nascent promise

Their oath of office

The survival of their race

As their heels hit the terrace



The undenying sound of unison echoes

Thereafter deafening silence

Marching, one foot at a time

Each foot forward a step in the right line

Every step a step to hardwork

The tumultuous water drops

The scorching sun blaze

The whirling wild winds

We have conquered

And as our muddy naked boots strike the ground

Every effort, every sweat worth the prize

Our journey miles

But a toil with a friend inspiring



We all constitute a multitude

But our strength in fortitude

For there is a time

A season for everything

Now is our time to toil

With all our strength and vigor

With all our might and candor

For with tears in our eyes

We secure our lives

Every tear worth a thousand laughs

A mighty bargain

For only those with clairvoyance

Who see beyond the now

For the storms are coming

With its ravaging force of nature


But in the midst of the storm

We would celebrate

With our hearts sunken with laughter

And our mandibles drunk with joy

With our bellies filled with butterflies

With our eyes brimming with life

And with our antenna’s full of pride

In knowing we had overcome

Daddy’s Little Girl

black girl

“Go to daddy,” Mom said, beckoning me to move closer to dad. Mom and Dad were both still in bed, covered in the big, fluffy duvet, with only their faces and necks jutting out. I sat by the edge of the bed, contemplating whether or not to obey Mom.

“You have bed wet again, haven’t you?” Mom said with a frown. “She’s getting too old for this,” she said to Dad.

“Oh baby,” Dad said with a forced smile. “You can come over. It’s okay,” he said to me, before stealing a quick gulp of the drink by his bedside.

I looked at Mom, looked at Dad and then, turned to Mom again.

Mom shook her head, sprang out of bed and dashed into the bathroom.

“She’ll get used to it,” Mom said as she bathed, referring to our current ‘situation’. We had just moved into this one-room apartment. Mom had told me this was only temporary as she and Dad would soon be over their financial problems. What I hated most about our ‘situation’ was that, at eleven, I had to share the same bed with Mom and Dad.

Mom came out of the bathroom, already dressed.

“I have to see Mama Ngozi at the market. She promised to assist me with some money today,” Mom said to Dad. Then she turned to me, “Clean the room before leaving for school. Take this,” she dropped a fifty naira note on the bed. “Get something to eat.” With those words, she kissed Dad and bolted out of the room.

After some time, Dad looked at me with a wry smile.

“Listen,” he said. “If you stop being childish, I’ll treat you like my daughter. Now come to bed to daddy.”

Today, I dreamt a dream.


Today, I dreamt a dream.

That the world came to an end.

I was in a room with my brother. Or whoever it was.
We were doing whatever it was that we were doing. Then, we heard a terrific thud. The glass windows shook but did not break, the doors trembled but did not shatter. My brother and I rushed over to the window. We saw the thick blue sky move.

Like the sea.

It troubled and troubled and troubled. Then, it began merging with the earth, only this time, the earth was not grey or brown. It was blue, just like the sea. Maybe we were in a high storey building by the riverside, overlooking the waters. Maybe it was the watery clouds which troubled above us that had now fallen to the ground. I had no idea. I still have no idea.

But, the sky above us was blue and moving downwards, and the earth beneath us was blue and moving.

Then something happened which I can’t remember. And everything else became blurred. I was not sure what was happening, but I was sure the world was coming to an end. This was not the first, weird, unfathomable dream I would be having about the world coming to an end.

But it sure was a dream.

That the world came to an end.

It’s never too late to say this

goal Photo credit:

My 2015 writing goals?

No. I stopped setting writing goals since…this year.

Now to the purpose of this post… I know this might be coming late, but it’s never too late to say happy new year.  I bless the good Lord who made it possible for us to see 2015. It was not by our power nor by our might. If it had not been the Lord who had been on my side, I would have been history by now. Despite my unfaithfulness, He still showered me with His steadfast love. 2014 was a particularly amazing year for me. Not so great for my writing craft, but in other respect, it was amazeballs!!! For starters, I celebrated one year anniversary at my paid job in December 2014. Wait, did you think I write for a living? Really? Nah, I don’t write (creative fiction/non-fiction) for a living. Not just yet. It’s something I intend doing later in life. For now, I write for the love of the craft. Okay. I was saying I celebrated one year anniversary on my paid job in December 2014. As most of you don’t know, I was thrown into the labour market some two years ago as a Corper (whatever this word actually mean in English). By the end of my service year (December 2013), the good Lord provided me with a job, which, by its requirements, I was the least qualified for. You know when you apply as a youth corper for a job, which basic qualification for, is to have at least 3 years post-NYSC work experience? Yup, that was the sort of job I applied for. And I was hired.

Before December 2014, when I celebrated a year on the job, the Lord blessed me with this beauty below: car   If you are friends with me on facebook, you would have seen my post on the above. One thing you may not know, is that, within two weeks of getting it, I was welcome into the club of fresh owners with three “bashes”. One was self inflicted, the other two were courtesy of our friends who drive that yellow whale on Lagos roads.  Good Lord, did I almost cry?…Anyway, story for another day….

Asides the material gifts, the Lord also blessed me emotionally and spiritually. My mental strength toughened in 2014. I became braver than I was in 2013 and I was able to face and withstand seeming challenges without breaking.

My inter-personal relationship with fellow humans also blossomed in 2014. I love keeping to myself, but in 2014,  I made sure I made some new acquaintances. Just a few, though.

I also tried to know God more. Yes, the key word is “Tried”,because, truth be told, I am not yet where I want to be spiritually. But yes, I grew in that regard in 2014. I just want to better it in 2015.

Health-wise, the Lord was also faithful to me. I did not have any reason to visit any hospital in 2014. It’s been about three years now since I last visited a clinic. And it’s a testimony for me. The closest I came to visiting a place full of drugs is the pharmacy to buy paracetamol.  And oh, I also bought anti-malarial dose once in 2014. *wide grin*

My love life also finally  took a turn in the positive direction for the first time in four years. Shussh..Story for another day.

God has started 2015 in grand style for me as well. On the 6th of January, 2015 as I was driving home from work at night, one of those  fine boys who rob unsuspecting motorists and pedestrians along Iyanoworo/Car Wash axis came over to my car whilst I was in traffic. He pointed a gun at me and demanded for my phone…or my life. I starred at this guy for God-knows-how-long without flinching, not because I was brave, but for whatever-reason-it-was, I did not move at the sight of his gun to my face. As he cocked his gun and made more dramatic demands, God took care of the situation by making a way out. I did not lose any personal belonging or my life. What more can I ask of the Most High who promised us the gift of life and was faithful to His word when I needed it most?   Why am I sharing the above with you? We are encouraged in the following Bible verses to do so: Luke 8: 39, Psalm 71: 15 – 18, Mathew 10:32, 1 John 1: 1- 4.

Let me also use this opportunity to say a big thank you to everyone who visited my blog last year, commented on a post or suggested ways to better my craft. God bless you richly. In 2014, I hit over 100 likes on my facebook page here. Thanks to everyone who like my page, follow me on Twitter, instagram or add me on BBM.

I have a feeling 2015 is going to be an awesome year for everyone reading this. As for my writing, some of my plans that have been incubating for a while now should manifest this year by the grace of God. If you have been following my writing, I would love if you could apply some more pressure on me to write more. I have some “crazy” readers like that. They buzz me every now and then to remind me to post a story or two. I need more of these buzzes. They jolt me out of my struggles-of-life-induced reverie.


An Interview with God

I stumbled on this work which I had saved as a draft in my email since 2008. The words spoke to me like I had just read them for the first time. The source of this work is unknown. Do give it a read. And if you enjoy it, kindly share your thoughts in the comment box below and/or share the post with friends and loved ones.


I dreamt I had an interview with God. “Come in,” God said. “So, you would like to interview Me?”

“If you have the time,” I said.

God smiled and said: “My time is eternity and is enough to do everything; what questions do you have in mind to ask me?”

“What surprises you most about mankind?”

God answered:

  • “That they get bored of being children, are in a rush to grow up, and then long to be children again.
  • That they lose their health to make money and then lose their money to restore their health.
  • That by thinking anxiously about the future, they forget the present, such that they live neither for the present nor the future.
  • That they live as if they will never die, and they die as if they had never lived…”

God’s hands took mine and we were silent for a while and then I asked…”As a parent, what are some of life’s lessons you want your children to learn?”

God replied with a smile:

  • “To learn that they cannot make anyone love them. What they can do is to let themselves be loved.
  • To learn that what is most valuable is not what they have in their lives, but who they have in their lives.
  • To learn that it is not good to compare themselves to others. All will be judged individually on their own merits, not as a group on a comparison basis!
  • To learn that a rich person is not the one who has the most, but is one who needs the least.
  • To learn that it only takes a few seconds to open profound wounds in persons we love, and that it takes many years to heal them.
  • To learn to forgive by practicing forgiveness.
  • To learn that there are persons that love them dearly, but simply do not know how to express or show their feelings.
  • To learn that money can buy everything but happiness.
  • To learn that two people can look at the same thing and see it totally differently.
  • To learn that a true friend is someone who knows everything about them…and likes them anyway.
  • To learn that it is not always enough that they be forgiven by others, but that they have to forgive themselves.”


I sat there for a while enjoying the moment. I thanked Him for his time and for all that He has done for me and my family, and He replied, “Anytime. I’m here 24 hours a day. All you have to do is ask for me, and I’ll answer.”


As an addendum, always remember that,

People will forget what you said.

People will forget what you did,

But people will never forget how you made them feel.


Photo Credit: TeachWithJoy.Com



Let me know what you think. You can follow me on Twitter (click here) and like my Facebook page (click here). Gracias.

Actus Dei

TGIF, people! Unfortunately, due to reasons beyond my control, I won’t be publishing any episode of Amicus Curiae today. I’ll do that next week. I sincerely apologise to every one who had been looking forward to this. My BBM has been on fire since morning when I broke the news vide my PM.


Tolu, Uwah, Daneil, Nkem, Sokoribobo, Ify baby, Mani, Teemee et al, make all of una forgive me, abeg.


To calm flaying nerves, I decided to publish a short story instead. Please do give it a read and let me know what you think. Also use the share button too. It’s free, I promise. O se!


judgeJustice Aderemi-Ishola Fagbohun of the Lagos State High Court walked sluggishly into his seat. He looked downcast and forlorn. His heart was heavy. Although, today was another Monday, which meant another week of hearing the problems of the world had begun, this was not the primary reason for his unhappiness. His unhappiness lay between the thighs of Lara – his standby call girl, who had denied him a gate-pass into her throne of grace over the weekend because he had refused to furnish consideration for the ceremony. What consideration was this? A million naira.

Lara had requested that he gave her a million naira, but Justice Aderemi-Ishola had blatantly refused to oblige her. He did not consider her worthy of such amount of money. Lara was a cheap call girl whom he once picked along Allen Avenue one faithful Friday evening when the call of nature erected a mountain-of-fire consciousness around his groin as he returned home from Court. Justice Aderemi-Ishola has always had the same problem as the legendary King of Israel – the love for a maiden’s garden. He had battled with this personal demon all his life. However, the demon only seemed to have grown bigger since his elevation to the Bench. So, this faithful Friday evening after a hard day in court, he had a visitation from this demon on his way home.

Lara proved to be the very angel he needed that evening as she quenched his ravaging fire with acrobatic, WWE-esque bed moves. She then lit his ravaging fire, quenched it again, lit it once more and quenched it yet again. All in the space of three hours. Within those three hours, Lara transformed the learned Bench into the monster he had always only dreamt of being with his wife. There and then, Justice Aderemi-Ishola knew that he had found heaven. He knew he had to have her all to himself. Thenceforth, he made it a habit to boost her financial health. Every month end, he always sent her gifts wrapped in beautiful linens, accompanied with a hundred thousand naira worth of cheque. Just a hundred thousand naira worth of cheque. He knew the money was not reflective of his status, but he needed not give Lara any ideas that she could have more.

Last week Thursday, everything was about to change. He got a text from Lara requesting that he upped his monthly sacrifice to a million naira. Justice Aderemi-Ishola knew the game was about to change. But he was not ready just yet. Give in to her demand and she would ask for a hundred million naira the next time. These street ratchets were not loyal.

No. He would not accede to her request. If she wanted to call it quits with him, good riddance to her throne of grace.

Last week Friday, Justice Aderemi-Ishola decided to call Lara’s bluff. So, he dialled her line to book the regular visit, but lo and behold, she did not answer. This had never happened before. Ever. She almost always picked his calls on the first ring, like she was always staying on standby, waiting for him to call. There and then, the Learned Bench knew that the house cat had become a Sambisa tiger.

Justice Aderemi-Ishola dialled her number all through the weekend. She still did not answer. Lara was serious about her threat. This morning however, he got a text from her which read,

Dun u efa in ya lif, call ma line agn. Efa!

Justice Aderemi-Ishola grew goose pimples all over his groin. His man swelled like it would explode. There and then, it dawned on him that, his staff of honour had lost a rare gem of inestimable value. Forever. The sweetest garden he had ever harvested was gone. And this saddened him greatly like his mother had died. He felt as if he was carrying the burden of the world on his shoulders. An unfathomable act of god.

“Call the first case,” he said nonchalantly to the court clerk upon recovering from his reverie.

“Suit No: LD/1427/2013: Oluwayemi Falode and six others and Otunba Rasak Onikoyi.”

It was a land dispute suit. The seven Claimants had sued the village head, Otunba Rasak Onikoyi a.k.a Old Money Never Dies for using touts to trespass over their land.

“Parties?” Justice Aderemi-Ishola asked in low tone. He wished the day was over already.

The parties were absent. None of the seven claimants nor the defendant was in court. Justice Aderemi-Ishola could not have been more irritated by their absence.

“Any appearances?”

The Claimants and Defendant’s counsel announced their appearances.

“Why are your clients not in court?” Justice Aderemi-Ishola asked the claimants’ lawyer.

The lawyer, an old man who looked to have clocked past his “death age” stared at the Judge without an answer. He had no answer. He had no idea why his clients were not in court. He had informed them the previous day of today’s proceedings and they had promised to be available. Now they were not here.

“My Lord,” he said with a shaky, unsteady voice. “My clients are on their way. Just before the court sat, they had called to say they were in traffic…”

“Case struck out,” Justice Aderemi-Ishola interrupted. “Registrar, call the next case.”

“What?” the claimants’ lawyer said in disbelief, unconscious of how loud his voice was. “But My Lord…”

“Counsel, I am done with you. Registrar, next case.”

“Petition No: LD/1111/1997: Mrs Patricia Araromire and Mr. Felix Araromire….”

“No! My Lord,” the Claimants’ lawyer persisted. He could not understand what warranted his case to be struck out. This was a case in which he was handling almost pro bono because his clients could not afford his professional fees. They had only given him a paltry sum to file the processes in court and had agreed to be paying him “appearance fees”. If this case was struck out, his clients would not give him a dime for appearing in court today. He could not let that. “My Lord, you can’t strike out our case…”

“Will counsel address the court properly?” Justice Aderemi-Ishola said, his patience running thin. Lara’s text message had destroyed his day.

“I will address My Lord as I want!”

The whole court was in shock. This was an unprecedented reaction from Counsel in court.

Justice Aderemi-Ishola was not in the mood for any hyperactive Hollywood-wannabe Counsel today. He knew what to do.

“Baba, I will charge you with contempt if you don’t keep quiet,” he warned.

“My Lord, the law is trite….”

Justice Aderemi-Ishola had had enough.

“Musa,” he called at his Police Orderly who sat behind him. “Take this man into the box…”

As Musa approached the elderly lawyer, the learned Bench’s phone which was beside his gavel, buzzed. He had a Whasapp message. He stole a quick glance at the message. It was from Lara. Justice Aderemi-Ishola’s face brightened. Slowly, he moved his hands towards his phone to access the message. Lara had sent him twenty Whatsapp messages. They were all provocatively nude pictures of her.

“Jesus,” Justice Aderemi-Ishola whispered unconsciously as he jerked in his seat. Suddenly, his man started rising gloriously underneath his pants. Gradually, it hardened like the rock of Gibraltar. He felt throngs of electrodes fire through his system as the hair on his back rose in attention.

Another message from Lara came in. It read,

If u want dz, mt me @ Room 400 @ 4 Pointz by Sharatin by 10.00 am

Justice Aderemi-Ishola could not believe his eyes. Was this for real? Was the Queen of Sheba returning to Solomon? Was his gate-pass to the throne of grace returned? Oh! How much he had missed her water melon! Lara was one weird floosie. He loved her little games.

Another message from Lara came in.

Not a 2nd late.

Justice Aderemi-Ishola looked at the clock hanging on the wall of the court room. It was five minutes past nine. He looked at the court room. It was as full as a pack of sardine, with expectant faces of lawyers and their clients.

“Let Baba go,” he said to the Police Orderly who was leading the past-death-age lawyer to the dock.

The audience in court were surprised at the sudden turn of events. What was His Lordship up to?

“The court shall go on recess…..till 12pm,” he said, without offering an explanation. He rose, took a bow and scurried out of the court room. The lawyers were left stunned.

Justice Aderemi-Ishola dispensed with his driver and decided to drive himself instead. He was not sure of what he was doing. He did not care. The only thing he was sure of was that, he had to get into Lara’s throne of grace, else, he could run mad. He would run mad. The last three days had been the most miserable in his life.

He cruised his SUV on Lagos roads as a Formula One driver would and by 09.55am, he was already at Four Points by Sheraton in Victoria Island. He hurried over to the elevator and punched the keys like Mike Tyson, his heart pounding like Usain Bolt rode on it. By the time he got to his floor, he was already sweating profusely like a dejected dog drenched by its abusive owner. He pulled his shirt over his fat body as he ran down the hallway. His protruding tummy jiggled like Miley Cyrus on a “wrecking ball”.

Justice Aderemi-Ishola rushed over to the room with Number “400” inscribed on the door and pushed open the door. By now, he was already lost for breath. He bowed his head, his tongue hanging out as he panted. When he raised his head, his eyes witnessed the last thing in the world he had expected to see: his wife.

Their three kids.


His Pastor.



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