I’m at work, so this is a quick one.
The goddess is tempestuous at the moment. She only got gifts all the people she didn’t care about. Her beau ignored her. I asked about him and she explained that he’s Cupid’s delegate to Egypt and has come under a ton of pressure due to recent events.
I had already begun to picture a gay, roundish Egyptian with butterfly wings when she showed me a picture of a cross between Lucifer, The Rock, Jason Stratham, Idris Elba and Djimon Honsou. I don’t know the picture you see but believe me, it’s weird like that.
I left her in her misery. While I was busy rejoicing on saving valentine money? Abeg!
One of the villagers made a special request to the goddess so sent me an urgent telepathic message during working hours.
I’m grumpy but here’s a quick one, Marvin Gaye gong vibrations, only because AfroSays:
I COULD USE ANOTHER HUSBAND
“Madame, get in the car”
It was evening and my errant car was parked on the side of the express way, blowing steam happily. I had noticed an American spec automobile gracefully pull out of the busy traffic lane. It had slowed down as it got closer and it had eventually taken a parking spot in front of my car.
I had expected a young suited man to alight from the vehicle and attempt to fix my car problems in exchange for my phone number. After all, it was valentine’s, but instead, two straight faced, darkly handsome, sharply suited young men had glided out of the cockpit of the car approached me with such a troublesome confidence that I began to instinctively withdraw.
“Would you please get in the car?”
I looked at the two strange men calmly and I immediately decided to cooperate. I didn’t say a word; if I had opened my mouth, the terrified bird inside me would have fluttered out. One of the men collected my car keys and began to lock up the overheating vehicle that had quit on me. The other held the mystery car’s passenger door open. Just at that moment, the all-familiar, new car smell wafted up to my nostrils in a disturbing manner.
I was being kidnapped and I was terrified; too frightened to cry but anger wasn’t all too distant. “Damn you, Goke!” I swore to myself. That useless man should have picked me up fifteen minutes ago but he had never kept to an appointment in his life. He had spent eleven months in his mother’s womb and, he was even late on our wedding day. My happy-go-lucky, boy-in-a-man, husband would be the cause of whatever misfortune that would soon befall / had already befallen me. I cursed him again.
I briefly peeked into the car, and all I saw was darkness but as I put my first leg in, I saw a man’s right shoe from the shadows at the other end. All of a sudden, my self-preservation instincts took over and I pushed the dark pretend-valet to the side, shut the door and took off in the direction of traffic, yelling for help at the top of my lungs.
At first I didn’t hear my name being called but somehow, some part of my brain that was still functional made a connection between the shoe I just saw and the voice I was hearing. I knew that voice; I had married a man with a voice like that.
I looked back to see Goke running towards me with a boyish laugh, holding a ridiculously long, silver triangular box like a baton. Probably the limited edition, snow-capped Toblerone chocolate I’d been craving. His goons were laughing as well, probably his colleagues from work.
“I just thought you could use another car”, he shouted, opening his arms wide, waiting for his equally carefree, legitimately crazy wife to run back to him and jump into his arms.
“I could use another husband” I answered sarcastically.
HAPPY VALS DAY AFRO-FAMILY