PEER PRESSURE PART 1

I ended the call.

I was left devastated by what I had just gone through.

On the most overrated day in this cosmos, Valentines Day, I decided to put a call to my mum. Our conversation ensued as follows:

Me: Mummy how are you?

Mum: Godson I’m fine oh. How is school?

Me: We thank ASUU oh. Ehn ehn! Mummy there is something I want to tell you.

Mum: Hope it's not about money? Oya tell me now.

Me: Hmm! mummy there is this fine girl in my class. Her name is (see your face #LOL). I made out with her for Valentine. She is beautiful, cheerful, and nice. We really had a good time and…

Mum: Oh! I see. Just remember to collect the crayfish I sent for you from your brother when he comes to Uyo tomorrow.

Me: But mummy the girl is very…

Mum: No problem. Be a good boy oh, study your Bible, read your Bible, go to church every...

(Her voice faded into Oblivion in my head, even though she was still on the dial as I tried to understand what manner of shit-housery this was. I managed to nick myself into reality just in time to hear her sign off with

Mum: …God bless you.

(Like a strangulated pig I replied)

Me: Amen! Thank you, ma.

With my head spinning like an ultracentrifuge, tears were wallowing in my eyes. If my biological mum could be so nonchalant to me on the day when most parents beg their children till they are sure, at least in their minds, they are tucked up in bed, I had to accept that my singleness has reached the point of no return. She just downplayed my fictional date without any empathy. Three words would define me that moment: "I am finished".

Every room around me was buzzing with hugs, gifts, love, kisses, and sounds of "Awn! Awn! Awn!" Yet, this writer's room was cold and clammy with the buzzing of crickets, my only company that night. Things were that awful.

I wouldn't even mind a visit from a Jehovah Witness girl at that point. I picked up my phone again for the 69th time that day to see if any stray message from any girl had snuck into my phone. Sure enough this time, I saw a message that was not from names like Ben, Ubong, Josiah, Iniobong, Michael, MTN, or GDP for the first time in 700 years. I made a triumphant dance for two minutes before I picked up the phone again. With my heart palpitating loudly and my hands sweaty and trembling as I opened the message, my heart sunk into my stomach as my now teary eyes read the content of this message "Good evening, Godson good. Pls, can you come online and explain Colony Forming Unit-Erythrocyte in erythropoiesis to me (added two love emoji's at the end)"

Though Aristotle once said "and the strong shall have babe", at that point, I didn't want to be strong anymore. I just want to pick up the closest monastery recruitment form, serve the lord, and spit the god of singleness in his face before my row is called up yonder.

Is there a gene for singleness that I might have inherited somewhere by mutation or what?

I know I am ugly but at least I have seen the “lords and kings of ugliness” being in relationships.

Am I cursed?

Is it money?

Is it my dressing?

No! It can't be because even menial workers do find love and they don't wear tie and “cover-shoes” like me.

Lying on my bed, my brain resonated through the possible etiology of this disease condition that was eating me from the inside. I stood up, slowly paced around my single one-room apartment as I kept thinking about my fate, peered through my window and saw one male and female Agama lizard in close harmony not caring who the heck I was while staring back at me as if I was bad energy with my single vibes.

"Even lizards!" I wailed in my heart as I picked up my patella hammer from my locker to aim at their foolish heads.

Just then, my phone rang. I winked at them and was like "thank your stars, mtcheew!" I picked up the phone. My eyes almost popped out their sockets as the name “Precious” formed in front of my retina from my phone screen. With my hands shaking like those of a newly diagnosed Parkinson patient, I swiped the dial as I hoped this time not to be asked to explain why women do not have prostate cancer…

(Stay tuned for Part 2)

#HINLT
#ZENITH
#P.M.S

Wow...
More

TPound:
Wow...
More

weekend it is

Good one.

Odoogu:
Good one.

thank you boss

Sorry for the delay guys

Peer Pressure 2

And so it began again, the same phone, the same receiver but a different caller this time – one that won't ask me to buy crayfish at the least, and a voice so sonorous enough to send chilling sensations to the marrows of the unloved. Our conversation went thus:

*Me:* Good Evening, Precious.

*Her:* Godson my love, how are you?

(For a girl that had never asked me about my Father in class before, I was perplexed by this uncanny show of love), but for the position I was in that night, I'd be crazy to fling my only hope of a *“remontada”*.

*Me:* I’m doing great. How about you?

*Her:* Not good at all. I feel very lonely and sad currently. Are you down for the night? Let's rock it out together. _(She chuckled)._

_(In my mind I was like: down, caudal, sagittal, coronal, anything at all, I am ready provided I am leaving this single room apartment)_

*Me:* No problem. I’m in.

*Her:* Ok. I’m waiting at my room. Come pick me up so we can move.

With my smile then almost tearing my auricle, I replied, _"Yes right away"_ as many times as I thought it would take to overcome my village people’s sound barrier.

I ran to my neighbours room to borrow his toothpaste to brush my mouth – that I have found a supposed love wasn't a criterion to give someone's daughter acute respiratory distress syndrome. On knocking at his door, I could hear muffled voices and curses on whomever decided to cut in whatever was going on behind that door. He later came out sweating and asked me what my problem was with a tone of contempt. I told him. He went in and emerged with a full toothpaste, told me to eat it if I wished, and to never knock at his door again that evening. As he turned to leave, I asked him why he was sweating when the weather was as cold as a winter morning. He laughed at me as one will do to a toddler’s question and replied _"Na God oh"_ even as he bounced his door on me, leaving me perplexed like a fool.

My wondering what that could be all about was short-lived as I was jolted back to the new reality of having found love for myself. After brushing my teeth, I paced quickly towards Precious’ room. On seeing me, she gave me such a hug that I was near epileptic on release. In no time, we moved out of the hostel.

While in a cab, she leaned on my shoulders and whispered _"shey you know: all bills on you oh?"._

Like an slowpoke goat with point-mutation, I replied _"You can count on me, darling"._

I still slap myself till today on remembering this.

We arrived at our destination – Kentucky Fried Chicken, Ikot Akpan-Andem branch. We got seated and our turn came to place orders. She told the waiter _"Bring me the most expensive cuisine on that list befitting for me and my handsome friend"._

Almost as I opened my mouth to call the waiter to make my order did I hear, from our surrounding tables, sounds of _"Awn! Awn! Awn!"_ followed by claps and cheerful comments like _"best boyfriend of the year", "God when",_ and other crap that my ears were too heavy to listen to at that point.

I still managed to speak to the waiter in the heat of the moment that he should bring only one plate for her that I have been diagnosed with what doctors called gastroenteritis, and so, only eat liquid food for the time being,

He gave me that *_Comrade I know you are lying face_* as he promised to get me one free bottled water, so I don't swallow saliva throughout the parasitic nutrition event that was about to occur. She got served and I told her the same gastroenteritis crap to save face.

Nonetheless, lady really had the guts to tell me _"get well soon bro"_ as she nibbled on her piece of meat. _(#So, I’ve suddenly become bro; no more *my love*?)_. Not long after, the bill was out – 78,000 Naira in total. With hot tears in my eyes, I dialled my Bank’s USSD transfer code. My excitement had long died ages ago. All I wanted was to be with my Lippincott Pharmacology in my cold clammy room, but life had other plans for me that night.

She received a phone call from someone about a party close to the eatery we were at. It wasn't even hard to convince me at that point to come. I was at ground zero – a broken man who had just spent his local church’s contribution money on a girl he didn't even know her middle name. Before I could say Jack Robinson, we arrived at the party. My eyes beheld things so unholy to write of in this book. Sooner had I arrived did they start playing the famous *"Truth or Dare"* game

It is said that a cockroach is never innocent in the gathering of chickens. Such was my case as almost immediately, the lot of dare was casted on me. I was dared to smoke a stick of Indian hemp.

_"As you big reach, common wee-wee (term for weed) you no fit handle"_ were the words of her loud voice which drew much attention to my seeming naivety and rejecting of her gift. My heart palpitated more than ever. With all eyes then on me, I had to save my manliness from disgrace.

_"Come on Godson! It’s just one seep; it would be over and you will be out of here"_. Such were the comforting words of the devil as I collected the Indian hemp with shaky hands while receiving the cheers me to damnation from onlookers. It is said that a man that climbs a palm tree upside down will surely see what his eyes are seeking for. Such was my case as I took the first sip.

I was immediately lifted to the third heavens where I beheld the sons of men with little comprehension. I thought I passed Angel Michael on my ascent up there, but I wasn't so sure. As I turned behind, I saw a man with dreaded hair approach me. He introduced himself as the god of Marijuana. He then spoke to me telling me how eating from dumpsites is nice and free of charge, how walking on foot for long distances is entertaining and increases cardiac output, how bathing and brushing are stressful, and how uncomfortable cloths are for humans adding a short note on thermoregulation to back up his point.

Funny as he seemed, he made a lot of sense to me. Just as he was about intimating me on my first dumpsite to begin my sojourn, I heard the sounds of siren: the police had just arrived at the party scene. I received about four or five slaps from them to kickstart my brain, leaving me no time to bid my newly found god farewell.

​It gradually dawned on me what was going on: the police had rounded all of us at the party. The night was cold but suddenly, my wrist felt colder than usual. Then, followed the clanking interlocking of the metallic cuffs around my wrists. This shattered my heart beyond description. In no time, we were at the station writing statements and sharing cubicles with hardened criminals. When asked what brought me there, I replied that I passed out while attempting to smoke hemp. I'd not want to stress further but the ecchymosis I sustained was enough to give away the sort of beating I had received for being faint-hearted and “not man enough” to smoke crack.

One even commented further _"something wey as my mama born me na im I first smoke before them even give me breast. Na that one come dey popori you?"._

Within 24hrs on the quest for love, I replaced my lonely, cold, and clammy room with a sorry company, heat, and life-snuffing mouth odour that I wished I brought the toothpaste from my neighbour to deliver these folks from halitosis.

My mum and pastor came later in the night the next day when someone alerted them of my plight. After many pleas, money, and even going to the extent of showing my baptismal certificate to prove that I wasn't a bad child, the Police finally got the money and decided to grant some of us bail that night.

But there was a catch: as a punishment for our indecent activity the other night, we had to trek back to the hostel two towns away from the station.they asked the girls to point out their boyfriends so if they get tired they get carried on the unfortunate boys back along the way,as you guessed right, Precious had the guts to point me,even as I became a human horse over-night,with the chill breeze of the night blowing me and the slow reverberating sound of the police van trailing behind us,I swore an oath of eunuch-living after escaping that ordeal. Whether I kept to my promise, I don't know as I sit, with a bottle of water, writing this story in this restaurant while watching Blessing devour her second wrap of shawarma smiling at me.

The end!

#HINLT
#P.M.S
#ZENITH

You never learn.

Na dem redpillers sermon you need!!

Odoogu:


You never learn.

Na dem redpillers sermon you need!!

I swear my man,SIMPle life no the help