So recently I noticed that whenever I ask my wife for money, she usually gave it to me without arguing twice. So I started picking her money from her purse as I like.

Whenever she asks me I will tell her I picked it.

She will just smile and say okay.

So two days back, while we were lying on the bed I asked her.

"Baby, why don't you complain anytime I pick your money from your purse without your consent? You don't even ask me back for it. I mean this is your money and you should complain a little or even give me that facial expression that you are not comfortable with me picking your money, but you don't. I am worried."

My wife held my hands and looked into my eyes.

"Baby, we are married, okay. We are no more single. Now what belongs to me, belongs to you. When I agreed to marry you, I agreed to give you not only my heart, my emotions, and my love, but I also agreed to give you my money. You own everything, baby. So you can pick my money as you like. It is yours."

"Babe, do you know how much I have picked so far?"

"Nope. Maybe five thousand."

I chuckled.

"No. I have picked fifty thousand."

My wife turned to me.

"Just fifty thousand? O my love it means nothing. Pick more money okay. Pick more. My money is yours."

I nodded my head and kissed her.

I started calling my wife Ego first Bank. Because she uses First bank account.

On Tuesday, while talking with Patrick at the office, I kept telling him why one should marry a woman who is financially stable. A woman that can give you money whenever you need money. Not a woman you will just be giving money to every every time.

Patrick took my advice.

Yesterday, my wife asked us to get dressed so I could escort her to the market to buy her hair and other things at the market. Then she will branch by at the eatery so we can have lunch together.

While in the car, she asked if we should use the eatery first, or go to the market before coming to the eatery.

"Ah... Let's go to the market first. We can come back to the eatery later before we go home."

We drove to the market and entered the shop of this woman selling hair and shoes.

While my wife picked hair and shoes going up to eighty thousand, she kept telling the woman how much of a loving and caring husband I am. And how I love to take very good care of her.

Because of the way she was praising me, I started helping her to select fine fine clothes.

Money now got to 150k.

She now handed the woman my ATM card and asked me to input my pin.

Sudden fear gripped me.

I looked at my wife and she turned her face.

Because I didn't want to argue.

I just punched the pin in silence.

While in the car on our way home, I refused to talk to her.

My wife refused to talk to me too. Even when I decided to sleep in the sitting room to show I was angry, she didn't say peem. She even helped to bring pillow and blanket and dropped by my side.

Throughout today I have been looking for my wife's money in this house to carry, but I haven't seen it. All the angles she do hide her money, she replaced it with Rat poison.

In this particular angle where she hides money, she dropped sniper there.

This is how this woman just set trap for me like that.

My name is Praises Chidera Obiora and I am the best at what I do.
So recently I noticed that whenever I ask my wife for money, she usually gave it to me without arguing twice. So I started picking her money from her purse as I like.

Whenever she asks me I will tell her I picked it.

She will just smile and say okay.

So two days back, while we were lying on the bed I asked her.

"Baby, why don't you complain anytime I pick your money from your purse without your consent? You don't even ask me back for it. I mean this is your money and you should complain a little or even give me that facial expression that you are not comfortable with me picking your money, but you don't. I am worried."

My wife held my hands and looked into my eyes.

"Baby, we are married, okay. We are no more single. Now what belongs to me, belongs to you. When I agreed to marry you, I agreed to give you not only my heart, my emotions, and my love, but I also agreed to give you my money. You own everything, baby. So you can pick my money as you like. It is yours."

"Babe, do you know how much I have picked so far?"

"Nope. Maybe five thousand."

I chuckled.

"No. I have picked fifty thousand."

My wife turned to me.

"Just fifty thousand? O my love it means nothing. Pick more money okay. Pick more. My money is yours."

I nodded my head and kissed her.

I started calling my wife Ego first Bank. Because she uses First bank account.

On Tuesday, while talking with Patrick at the office, I kept telling him why one should marry a woman who is financially stable. A woman that can give you money whenever you need money. Not a woman you will just be giving money to every every time.

Patrick took my advice.

Yesterday, my wife asked us to get dressed so I could escort her to the market to buy her hair and other things at the market. Then she will branch by at the eatery so we can have lunch together.

While in the car, she asked if we should use the eatery first, or go to the market before coming to the eatery.

"Ah... Let's go to the market first. We can come back to the eatery later before we go home."

We drove to the market and entered the shop of this woman selling hair and shoes.

While my wife picked hair and shoes going up to eighty thousand, she kept telling the woman how much of a loving and caring husband I am. And how I love to take very good care of her.

Because of the way she was praising me, I started helping her to select fine fine clothes.

Money now got to 150k.

She now handed the woman my ATM card and asked me to input my pin.

Sudden fear gripped me.

I looked at my wife and she turned her face.

Because I didn't want to argue.

I just punched the pin in silence.

While in the car on our way home, I refused to talk to her.

My wife refused to talk to me too. Even when I decided to sleep in the sitting room to show I was angry, she didn't say peem. She even helped to bring pillow and blanket and dropped by my side.

Throughout today I have been looking for my wife's money in this house to carry, but I haven't seen it. All the angles she do hide her money, she replaced it with Rat poison.

In this particular angle where she hides money, she dropped sniper there.

This is how this woman just set trap for me like that.

My name is Praises Chidera Obiora and I am the best at what I do.

Copied

Mokason288:

I swear, it's not funny.

YOU DIDN'T EVEN COPY WELL.

THE TWIST OF LIFE.

Few weeks ago, I was driving on Apapa-Oshodi expressway and stopped briefly under the Ilasamaja Bridge to pick a call. Suddenly, a Danfo bus pulled up beside me, the bus conductor jumped out and landed by my side. I thought I was about to be robbed!
However, the conductor had other plans.
'Oshodi Oshodi Oshodi o.

I heaved a sigh of relief and breathed deeper, then I saw a guy I'd known for long. Years of separation couldn't play on me any trick. He was one of the brightest guys in our class back then, and had won for us a couple of Inter-School competitions.
He was of a modest middleclass family that valued education and when he says a word is 'adjectival proverb' or 'future present past participle', we dared not argue because he was usually and always right.

Always ahead. He had a way of mentally working out complex mathematical equations without writing. He was a silent threat to the 'booboo' teachers and would sometimes challenge their answers' which later earned him cold hates from some of the teachers. Gbenga was that hot and was named one of the most likely to succeed in our class.
'Oshodi…Oshodi…Oshodi oke o…' He continued.

I pushed out my head from the car and 'holla' his nick name.
'Gbengene!'
He was shocked. Only his old allies would call him that name, I guessed. He looked intently at me and then screamed. I came out of the car and we hugged fiercely, like old thieves, gallons of his sweat rubbing all over me, but I cared not. I was happy to see my old friend.

‘Viko ómó'lòpè, what’s up? O ti sha-pra-pra gan o...'
He hailed loudly in street parlance. We however couldn't talk as he had to get back to work, and his driver 'oga' was blaring the horn angrily. So I took his phone number and watched him go adoringly.
Gbenga ran back to the moving Danfo bus, jumped in and clung tightly to the door as if his entire life depended on it. He gave me a parting smile and flashed a decolorized teeth supposedly darkened by excessive marijuana smoking and deepseated apathy to dental hygiene.

God, what happened?
I stood, rooted to that spot and sadly watched him disappear into the fast moving Lagos metro.
Then came flurry of emotion.
I cried.
As I drove on, I flashed back to another flip-sided slice of life that made me conclude afterall that life is nothing but a scam.

I was on Admiralty Way in Lekki and stopped at AP/Tantalizer Junction to shine my shoe. I was admiring the Aboki doing his work with much passion when a black Range Rover halted suddenly behind me and the screech of the tyres made me dive for safety.
God forbid bad thing!

While on the safer side, I glanced back to see the idiot behind the wheel, then I saw a familiar face. 'No! Haba! It couldn't be him' I argued within me, then wiped my face for a clearer vision. The loser was still there, smiling stupidly. The face rang a louder bell, and of course, I remembered him.
'What in hell could Bala be doing inside this Range Rover?' I queried myself.

It is tragic to be dumb, and a tragedy to be stupid, but it is an incurable curse to be both. Bala was dumb and stupid! His parents were extremely poor! That, conjoined with his non-existent academic performance which affected his confidence and social life, he was simply termed a failure and had severally been assured he wouldn't amount to anything in life. He agreed, and we all agreed with him. So we treated him as nobody, a scumbag.

‘Well, maybe Bala had finally fulfilled his destiny and become a driver as predicted' I concluded, grinning sheepishly.
What a stupid miscalculation!
Balarabe, the dullest guy in my class was the proud owner of the R2. Back then, this guy could not even write a decimal point with a bottle, but now signs cheques with gold pen and cruises posh SUVs all around Lagos. We hung out at The Sailors Lounge and he told me how he reinvented himself. He attended few crash courses, changed his orientation, worked with a shipping company in Apapa Wharf, became hardworking and brutally honest. His boss loved him and mentored him in shipping and importation business until he started his own company.

Wow!
Balarabe!
A CEO of a Shipping Company!!!
Bala!
A scum of the earth?!
I couldn't sleep that night as I kept musing over Gbenga and Bala.
So I concluded.
The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor riches to men of understanding, nor favour to men of skill; but time and chance happen to them all.
It is truly not over, until it is over.

Reinvent yourself, change your attitude and let honesty be your watch word.
God will change your story for the best as you
go out this week in Jesus name. Amen.

amin