Touchmeder

11.




“Hello guy, how far na, where you dey?.” Tunde asked on the phone.



“Guy I just dey climb stairs” Effiong replied and ended the call. His Nokia 3310 beeped as he pressed the red button on the left.


Some few minutes later he entered the door to Chinedu's room. A typical boys room with Ceiling fan hung in the ceiling, Newspaper and magazines plastered the walls of some part while, the large spreadsheet pictures of complete Gunners squad (Arsenal) designed the other part of the wall.


A Samsung Tv and a CD player was placed on floor at a corner in the room. A mattress was laid on the floor with blue bed sheet covering the mattress that hadn't been stripped off the nylon it came with, depicting it was bought new.
On the bed was Chinedu, a 5'8 guy, beards on his jaws but his skull was barbed by the most experienced barber in his area. It was completely skinned, no single air could be found on his head. And it shone as though it were a glass; - a mirror, one could see the reflection of an eclipse through it when there was one taking place.

He wore a short yellow knicker and his upper part was bare, his packs showing. Beside him was his girlfriend, a girl of 18years, - very black that her eyes and teeth could be the only visible thing when it was night or the lights were switched-off in the room. She wore an orange sit-back in her black jean trousers. She leaned on the wall, her legs stretched out on the bed.


Tunde sat on the only chair in the room waiting for Effiong to drop the nylons in his hands so they could share whatever goods was in them.



“Hahahahaha, baba don go market o, thank God!” Chinedu praised not knowing where his friends had gotten the nylons from.



“Guy cool down, since all this days wey money dey your hand, no be Ash.........”



Chinedu quickly gave him a wink to prevent Effiong from exposing him in the presence of his girlfriend.


“Ermm! Ermm! Asho Ebi, you take am dey buy” he lied, when what he really wanted to say was `Ashewo (prostitute)'.


The silence that took the room was pronouncing, as a pin could be heard when it fell. His girlfriend glanced at him and look steadily at Effiong the liar. Since she met Chinedu, he had never bought Asho Ebi (Family Atire) before. An Igbo boy buying Asho Ebi is just like saying, tortoise walking upright as though it were a human. It was so impossible but she didn't ask any question.



“Since I'm here present, why don't you bring the stuffs out so I could help, if anything to cook is there in” she suggested and stood up to come grab the nylons from Effiong who quickly turned hiding the bags.



“See, go and sit down” Tunde said. “This bag is only meant for Effiong and me”




“Hahahahahahaahahaha” Effiong gave a shrill laugh that struck Tunde's inquisition. Why the hell is this one laughing, he thought.


“Guy, this 3 nylons as e dey so, you no get shingbain inside” he mocked and growled.



“Come guy, no bring that one o, no be me and you do the deal?” Tunde groused, posturing to pounce on him and grab the nylons if he made any show of greed.



“Which deal be that? If to say dem don catch me for the market, you for wait?”



“But dem no catch you and so!. Wait first, me no carry out my own side of the plan ni?” He paced forward to grab one nylon but Effiong dodged and moved away from him.




Chinedu and his girlfriend were just staring questionably at the two friends. What deal had this two crooks carried out to cause this argument and what the hell can be in those nylons, he thought and watched on as the two friends were now struggling to have the nylons. They struggled beside the wall, then Effiong being the strongest of the two, shook free and ran to the middle of the room, panting!.

His assailant shirt was already short of two buttons but he didn't care. Why is this guy trying to be greedy?, Tunde thought and rushed to meet him. They were engaged in another struggle, but this time, it was getting out of hands.


“Won't you intervene” Chinedu's girlfriend said.

The moment he was about to get up and intervene was when two of the nylons tore in mid-air amidst the struggle of both friends.


Poo strayed out of an unknown nylon, very light Poo, watery and smelly, maggots already forming in it. It sprayed on both friends head, body, shirt. They shook free of each other. The floor was surrounded with trash that were in the bag. The poo were dripping down of both friends faces as they looked with disgust in their faces; their noses frowned to their heads to show how smelly the poo was.




“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha” Chinedu couldn't stop the laugh from forcing its way out of his mouth.



“Chineke!. Buahahahahahahahahahahaha! Shit na him una carry dey form as if una go Shoprite” Chinedu's girlfriend who was reserved and couldn't have said such words on a normal day, let it out of her mouth.


Chinedu was just laughing the two friends, tears coming out of his eyes.


“The whole street must hear this one o. my padis go supermarket, buy dirty and shit come back dey proud. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!!!”



The nylons they mistakenly took was the refuse of the previous day the shop owner had intended to dispose once the PSP truck was close by but it seemed Effiong and Tunde had lessen the man's burden anyway. They had disposed the refuse well!.

Chineke diz guy wan kill person ooooO!






Na poo dem carry come house..

Fembleez1:
Hi guyz,

Guess would be wrong not to invite you peepz that graced my first story to this one. It shows I do appreciate you and need your presence to do this also, please I beg you all to honour my humble invitation/s.



Kingphilip(m) Supernet4(f) Mistytohcute(f) Calmdove(f) Prettydiva89(f) Missymossy(f) Kingzpen(m) MachineX(m) Tobilastik(m) ODUMAIYE(f) Oyinprince(m) Usmanspihn(m) Seunviju(f) Supsybaby(f) Kemtol Stuff46 Kristen12(f) aprilwise(m) Mj45 Cybershow(m) and many more I would mention as the story progresses.

its a pleasure.. let me start reading

Poo!


Hahaha

Nice story so far.
poo!lol that's the reward for wickedness

Registering my presence, in thesame vain honouring your invitation. Would surely come back to read when a lil less busy. This week is .....

prettydiva89:

its a pleasure.. let me start reading

Thanks chum!












Dopeyomi, na the babe wey I promise you be this o, you fit stand-up for her to si-don for your seat






And you si-don for mat or anything.










Na love o

stuff46:
Registering my presence, in thesame vain honouring your invitation. Would surely come back to read when a lil less busy. This week is .....

Thanks boss, expecting your comment, criticism and corrections!

Fembleez1:


Thanks chum!












Dopeyomi, na the babe wey I promise you be this o, you fit stand-up for her to si-don for your seat






And you si-don for mat or anything.










Na love o

abi nah

prettydiva89:

abi nah

Na so!.















Dopeyomi

Hi Fembleez1 you didn't spell my moniker correctly, no wonder i didn't get your mention. Stumbled on this story some minutes ago. You are doing a wonderful job, Kudos.

Fembleez1:


Thanks chum!












Dopeyomi, na the babe wey I promise you be this o, you fit stand-up for her to si-don for your seat






And you si-don for mat or anything.










Na love o

But why









Shey you no see '89' F̶̲̥̅̊O̲̣̣̥я̩̥̊ d back of Prettydiva89 Find the one wey get the opposite number or turn the number

Missmossy:
Hi Fembleez1 you didn't spell my moniker correctly, no wonder i didn't get your mention. Stumbled on this story some minutes ago. You are doing a wonderful job, Kudos.

Thanks miss. You're highly welcome.





Please take your seat up at the V.V.I.P section.

Dopeyomi:


But why









Shey you no see '89' F̶̲̥̅̊O̲̣̣̥я̩̥̊ d back of Prettydiva89 Find the one wey get the opposite number or turn the number

Lol, so you dey reject the offer of babe?



Na wa o!.

12.



Day:- Thursday (Holy Thursday)
Significance:- Last day at the Junior School.



At the Osborne School Complex were erected six(6) schools. The walls of the complex weren't that tall, you could easily see the schools driving on the bridges that headed upward, as though you were driving towards Ikoyi Blue Ocean or Victoria Island Amusement Park, Lagos. The other bridge on the left seemed to head towards the famous Sura market with two joint bridges, one leading to the Third mainland bridge, while the other to Dolphin Estate.

There beneath the bridge was a boulevard, very close to the complex wall. The trees, shrubs and grasses seemed to glorify themselves with the dew that fell earlier that day; and the present rays of the sun that shone on them.

If it were to be just a school that admitted the characters in this novel, it would have been more interesting but it was six schools spaced in same complex.

The tall black gate with topped sharp iron edges protruding above it was the main gate that led into the Wahab High School. There were two other gates; the almost collapsed brown gate that led into the Government College Ikoyi and the newly erected, - unpainted gate which led into the Akande Dahunsi and Ilado Community High School, still in same complex.

It was mid-April. The very last day of school for all the students of Wahab Folawiyo Junior School but most especially the JSS3 students who had just finished their Junior WASSCE.

The Bell had been rung about 3minutes ago for the closing hour of the last day at school. All students that had anticipated the `Wrang! Wrang!! Wrang!!!' of the bell stood at the balcony, some at the banisters of the first and second floor of the school building.

The school was painted the usual cream and blue of every government schools in Lagos state.
Some students lobbied at each bars of the burglary that safe-guarded the school hall, which accomodated the youthful bodies of the JSS3 students who were dancing to the popular `yahooze' music by Olu Maintain.

The music stopped abruptly soon as the bell was rang and all students trooped to the assembly ground in numbers.

The school building stood in form of an imperfect `C' shape with its two edges in the form of square rather than a curve. The very space it left in its middle was enough to assemble more than 500 students if it were possible to be the only school in the complex offering admission to newly graduated primary 6 students.

The assembly was demarcated with tyres buried half-way beneath the earth, on two sides leaving a path to tread along the middle.

As the students gathered, the Terminalia Catappa (Indian Almond) also known as the Fruit tree seemed to be rejoicing as the wind blew, - it would be free of sticks, shoes and stones the students threw at it, of the next 4-5 weeks of vacation.
The tree stood providing shades like every umbrella of those airtime (recharge card's) sellers on various route in Lagos, for the students.


There was a raucous voice of “mind the flowers, you cockroaches” from Ms Iton the English Language teacher amidst the the scent of green lilies and yellow ficus flowers planted to decorate the school garden.



“Shut your trap” from Mrs Oladipupo the Integrated Science teacher seemed to have address the students noise and yells, gist and gossips.



Adefemi George, a 14years old boy stood on the line meant for the JSS3 white students, with his ebony skin in tune with the warmth of the spring. He wore his school uniform, his green and white stripe shirt; a tie knot on it like a Bank manager, a green trousers and socks slightly showing at the tip-end of his trousers; - his grandpa dash me clack-shoes on his foot.

In his face, you could see the expression of `i'm one of the most handsome in this school cause black is beautiful', his teeth flashing against his skin and jaw giving him one of the beautiful feature of a popular ghanian actress.

All the JSS3 students were in their school uniforms as the principal in her strict and bird-like voice had said “no mufti is allowed for your party. You are only moving to the Senior School, so I see no reason why you shouldn't put on your uniforms.”

The students seemed to have savoured the respect it would mean to put on the white on white Senior School uniform, with a light-green tie, - on a black shoe. It meant so many things to them. To some, it was merely the respect while to others, it was more than respect. It would mean being on the same level with Kings' College and St. Gregory's College students.

It was a long sleeve and the badges were not sown to the school uniform. Safety-pin were used in tagging the wool-like badges to the white uniforms. Different things appeared to be going through Adefemi's mind apart the glory the uniform would bring.

It was 3years ago, in the year 2005, he had written the Federal and State Common Entrance Examination. He passed the two and was called up for interviews which he had wrote the exam too. He had expected a positive reply in both interviews until that fateful afternoon he went to a near by cafe to check his admission status.



Kings' College Lagos:- No admission given




Federal College Badore:- No admission given


He wept from the cafe to his house that his clothes were soaked as though he had fallen into the lagoon.


“They had sold your result to one of those private school dull headed student” someone consoled him.

You could say `what a consolation?' but it was evident as a girl called Kemi, - the daughter of his Headmistress and another Yewande. Both were from a private school but had come to write with their school and were both offered admission.


He almost broke-down when he was informed they had decided all those that failed the interview or were not offered admission were to attend the Dolphin High School on the Lagos Island.


“That rascal school,” he had said.

It was the suggestion of his uncle that he should be worked into Wahab High School that had saved him from attending the pronounced rascal school.

The day he was to resume for the first time at Wahab had been imagined, would have been the best day of his life. He had bought cutlass, bucket, broom, tissue-paper and harpic. He had thought Wahab to be a boarding school. He wore his black-baggy, ash T-shirt and shoe as he had been informed by the school principal being a new student, - pending when the school tailor would come take his measurement for a uniform.

It was the time he got to the school and wasn't offered bed-space or shown to an hostel that had got him disappointed and spoilt the presumed would-be best day of his life.


“Good afternoon stu----dents” of Mr Falade seemed to have jolted him back from the train of thoughts. He removed his hands from his side pockets.

Mr Falade was used to stressing all the last words of the sentences he made as though he were swallowing a very strong improperly-made lump of fufu. His agricultural classes were always a joy to be in, - with the way he spoke and his expression.


“The principal said she would be unavailable to address you today and most importantly the JSS3 Stu--u-dents” he emphasized, banged his right hand on the iron railings and spoke on.


“I hope you will all be a good students at the Senior School as you were here. Once your results are out, we would communicate it to your Year Tutor." He inquired gesticulating with his hand from a woman who came out of the principal's office on the first floor “may God help you all,” he concluded and left.


Adefemi adjusted where he stood, resting on his left leg and smiles ran out his cheeks as he glanced around the assembly ground to `eyes-search' the person that made him smile.


He met Zainab Y's gaze, Halimats', Fatimahs' and Victor's, - perhaps they were not who his eyes searched for. He lifted his neck a little, standing on his toes and there was he, - his face seemed to acknowledge when he saw Kazeem, the most funniest guy he's ever met.

Another update drops possibly at midnight.











Typing,.......

definitely following

prettydiva89:
definitely following

Thanks dear.

Fembleez1:



Thanks miss. You're highly welcome.





Please take your seat up at the V.V.I.P section.

Thanks

Wendysmart

Continuation from 12.




They had all been receiving the Business Studies lectures in JSS2 on the topic Receptionist. The Business Studies teacher, Mr. Salami had asked the two NYSC student-teachers' to go take them class for that day.

Mr. John, a tall and gay looking man with his spec placed on his face, - was in his grey suit, white shirt and a red-tie. He wrote the topic on the board.



RECEPTIONIST


“Who is a Receptionist” He asked when Kazeem brought out his workbook which had a cartoon look-alike of a modern receptionist but the image looked more like the Joker in Batman. He stood up and said to the amazement of the whole class and the second NYSC student-teacher Mr. Afeez who stood resting on the wooden-window frame.


“This is a Receptionist,” pointedly to the book “Mr. John is a Receptionist.”



The whole class burst out laughing, even his colleague couldn't help laughing in his baritone voice that almost raised down the roof of the classroom.


“Repeat what you just said.” Mr. John said with anger written all over his faces. His voice, sour as though he had swallowed bile.


If he had known, he wouldn't have repeated it but he felt he was in the right since the workbook he held was for the Business-studies class. More so, the cartoon was truly of a Receptionist.



“This is a receptionist, Mr. John is a Receptionist.” What guts could have made him repeat the statement, joyously as though he had won a Gold medal at the 2002 olympic games.




“This is a Receptionist, Mr. John is a Receptionist”







T.b.c.





Below,.......

Joker-look alike of the Mr. John the receptionist as above,............

Ghost readers, just a comment could motivate me to update more.






Help a young writer by posting your corrections, criticism and comments. It would help me improve.

13.







The class was reeling in laughter. Those types of laughter that made one cry at the same time laugh. Mr Afeez his colleague made the wrong move that got Mr. John enraged the more. He was still laughing and wiping his tears when his hysteria got him to the side of Mr. John and he held him across his shoulder jokingly, not knowing he had vexed him the more.


Mr. John walked out of the class and about 5minutes, he returned with 10 canes, you easily know he had selected them in the group of 5-thin and 5-fat canes, though they were bundled together in his hands.



“Come out here, you fool!.” And the class went silent as though the president and his cabinet were visiting.



“I said come out here!” He repeated with his eyes boiling red in his nerd spec.


Kazeem's countenance appeared to have changed from `tears-of-joy' to `tears-of-sorrow'.

His emotions and steps were like that of a tortoise. It was dodgy, sluggish as though it were planning some evil in his heart. His movement was slow, snail would walk faster than he, in a race.
The sweat that formed in his face made the students laugh but this time, it was very silent, seemed a smile.


“Lie down flat on that desk.” Mr john commanded and Kazeem fearfully looking backwards with his hands placed at the edge of the desk on the front; his zip in contact with the near-edge of the desk and his chest shot-out like those scouts on Children's Day parade or Independence Day at the police college.


The first stroke that landed on his back after he had managed to lay on the desk came in form of a question “kpa kpa kpa kpa, what did you say?” The cane sounded.



“Mr. John is a Receptionist sir” he repeated groaning.

The process continued with laughter coming from the students and other passers-by students who had been walking pass the corridor and had decided to wait and watch the drama unfold.



`kpa' it landed again with the question.

Kazeem exclaimed “Receptionist” his tone changed when Mr. John made it land on his backbone repeatedly.



“Receptionist o, Chai!. I don suffer today o.”



“Recep o sir, ye!!!”



“What did you just say?” Mr. John who was sweating already asked, his face now very angry.


`kpa' it sounded “I don die for Receptionist hands o” he exclaimed. What sort of guts could have made this funny man say jargons out of his mouth?. The cane that inflicted pain on him or what?.


The class could not help but laugh at the slowpoke who looked like a comedian. His stature was exactly that of Julius Agwu, though he was a Benin boy.



“You die for where?” Mr. John asked.




“Receptionist sir. Sir na Receptionist sir” he was unsteady on the desk he lay as the cane was still landing on him as the questions were rolling out. “Recept me Sir, abeggi sir, Recept me”



“Recept you what” Mr. John was totally clueless at what Kazeem was driving at or trying to say.


If Kazeem had stop saying what Mr. John didn't want to hear, it would have saved him from the mess he was going through.

The class was already disorganized, students were scattered here and there, rolling on the floor laughing at the madness Kazeem and the NYSC teacher were displaying. Some were cry-laughing, some hitting their desk out of control, stamping their feet on the floor. This was more than Night of a Thousand Laugh.



“Receptionist don kill my real life o” Kazeem worsened everything saying that.


“You still saying that, will you shut your mouth?”



But rather, he said it in a more refined pattern “You have killed me o, Mr. Receptionist!”





Tbc,.....

Hahahaha this is so funny welldone Fembleez1 keep them coming!

Lmao..


#smackdown

Omg

Thanks dear

Missmossy:
Hahahaha this is so funny welldone Fembleez1 keep them coming!

Happy to know you are following

nice to have you here bro

tolaxin:
Omg

enjoy

lol

SegunFlames:
Lmao..


#smackdown

If this op no update tonight walai I go change Å̶̷̩̥͡m F̶̲̥̅̊O̲̣̣̥я̩̥̊'Å̶̷̩̥͡m









Na so you go dey do like bOss