For our reading pleasure, All in this life’s journey is proud to host OWEx_ as he goes Inception-esque on this one.
SHIT!
The guy in the blue coat ducked and kept running as fast as his
work-worn legs could carry him. The cop kept after him, occasionally
letting out a couple of slugs at points where his thirty-five year old
legs failed him.
Kracka! Kracka! The cop gave off another round from his small but
mighty automatic, which was no better than the preceding ones as far
as effect on life was concerned.
Now, the man in blue coat was really something to look at, and in the
day-to-day-life sense, something to look out for. He was danger
itself, inappropriately masked in a dark, craggy-looking face and
wrapped in an inappropriately shaped frame of a body. Of course
inappropriate was the most appropriate of words to describe him with:
his face was quite round – partly black, partly brown; his nose was a
science class model of that of the ugliest specie of primates; his
enormous football-sized eyes were like those of a caricature toad and
well sunken into their sockets; his banana leaf ears if challenged
could stand unbeaten by a mighty elephant’s flippers; his hooded head,
under the canopy, was square shaped and had absolutely nothing within
the vastness of its territory save for obeying the electrical
charge-powered rules that were ‘punched’ into it.
Timi now was a sight to behold; he was shuddering. He had had too much
and considering the state of things, he had a short – just a short
time to prove the true worth of his life.
The cop shot again and at this time Timi could damn well have said he
escaped narrowly – I mean narrowly – as narrow as a miniature
of the tiniest lock of hair picked from a baby mouse – really narrow,
isn’t it?
The bullet went straight, right over the hooded head at which it was
aimed, boring a hallow in and splashing the contents of a wine cask
just by the roadside.
At that same moment, the blue coat-clad guy clinched one of the POWs
and that reduced Timi’s growing-by-the-second tension. But it wasn’t
much of a fortune, it was only an SRM – a hand launched SRM.
There was a loud shattering noise. Timi, having gathered enough guts
from within his personal self, had just launched a missile. The
missile hit the wall behind which the cop had crouched for safety and
ricochetted just like a miscalculated David Beckham free kick, off it
only to find the beautiful stained glass of a nearby cathedral,
shattering off the glasswork and giving off a noise that almost left
Timi deaf.
For the man in blue, it wasn’t easy to face the cop; he didn’t stop
shooting and cursing. ”Get the f**k outta there you sonofa…”. It
wasn’t that the cop’s yell had any real impact on Timi or his
on-screen phantom, as a matter of fact he didn’t hear it, not because
it didn’t sound insultive enough to him but it just was too routine to
be taken note of.
Timi’s heart was having a tough time; it wasn’t like doing overtime
(since it never for once stopped working), but it was more like being
overworked – like a hundred kg timber being frced on an innocent
thirty kg ass – and in his veins his fresh Nigerian fluid ran at a
speed unthinkable by even the swiftest of hummingbirds.
Timi was terribly seething; tiny streams of red-hot perspiration flowed
down his pimple-studded face as if he were a middle-aged coco-yam
plant under intense Saharan heat. he was also shivering and the pad,
now seemingly iron-heavy, vibrated for the umpteenth time in his poor
far-from-at-ease hands.
Like an impetuous mongoose, already denied its lunch would go after a
slimy, slithering, tasty-looking serpent, the cop kept up the
Krackka’s much to his own pleasure and the woe of the guy in blue who
was under intense pressure. Then something happened. The cop who has
been intermittently exercising his finger by pulling the trigger
stopped in his track, for no reason obvious to anyone.
Timi saw his chance, a chance being used up by each tick of the
clock…a chance he mustn’t misuse. He was sweating and shaking now
more than ever and had already gone through hundreds of pages of his
mental decision making encyclopaedia…all within a quarter of a
second. Then he decided.
Punching one of the several raised portions on the plastic frame in
his hands, Timi heaved a sigh – a sigh whose carbon-filled emission
could have swept an average weighing man off his feet completely. But
that shot was as useless as a bunch o’ fives done an elephant: it
missed its target. With another push of the button, so violent that it
could be mistaken for a Flloyd Mayweather Jnr. coup de grace, Timi
found his on-screen adversary and with no mistake or hesitation made a
clean breast of him. Just as the cop was about dropping his massive
bulk, Timi, now as ecstatic as Anthony could have been in the company
of his Cleopatra or Romeo in the arms of his dearest Julliet, decided
that suspense would lengthen his excitement so he applied it.
He paused then make for the comfort station.
As he emptied his all-this-while-engaged-in-tight-business bladder,
Timi had …that feeling…it was a quite familiar feeling that came on
hot, uncomfortable nights. Suddenly, he felt everything around him
take a spin and metamorphose into a more familiar state than the one
he had been.
Timi opened his eyes and it was total darkness. He was certain now
that something terrible had happened! He was no longer holding a pad,
what he held now was an edge of a piss-soaked bed-sheet the opposite
of which lay atop the bare torso of another boy with whom he was
sharing the bed.
He didn’t bother to move. He remained the way he had been; his eyes
wide open as millions of thoughts flashed through his mind.
God, this is shit! he thought, knowing fully well it wasn’t
shit but as far as the biology teacher was concerned, it was
something similar. Shit!
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Did I not tell you guys?? A twist within a twist eh? That’s another level of Twist. You know, the deeper you go into a Twist, the less time it is in the real world. A three level Twist is dangerous, then we have a four level Twist where it all just breaks into chaos and disorder. After that is the Limbo twist, where you see things like ggjdsgfviubwivbwigbw.kgvdjgvbuvbvwgvugweihiffvdhj.
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That you took the time to read all that shows how much faith you guys have in this blog. And for that I appreciate. hehe.. 🙂
Follow on Twitter @janus_aneni and don’t forget to stay true to your boos, and ignore body counts and bedpost notches.
We continue tomorrow with the uber-sensitive and thoughtful @Paetir *sic*
Peace to Borno and Yobe.
PS: This was not based on a True story.
Peace.
All in this life's journey... 