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Osita Charles Nwankwo
 
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April's Fool

05 April 2014, 09:48

I do not reckon coincidence; logic and reason are my building blocks and being a sapiosexual, coincidence is a mute suggest with me.

But when a comatose is Kima’s, ‘DeNike is abducted (Oloriburuku, I vividly recall your tattooed forearm during your theatrics and you will be very sorry for your abomination on my person) and it is April 1st? I shudder to think!

Before now, my days were nights and my night’s days but given the dictates of my new office and the deadline for creative, my days have morphed into nights and my nights into indigo –or, whatever hue insane insomniacs view the sleep-spectrum as.

Saturday past, with a sickening thud, Kima had fallen off my 6’ 4” back; the day before, she had exhibited crash-tendencies. Given my days-nights conundrum, I had stumbled through a presentation, with her, at Nicon Town Estate on Saturday and during the drinks, cheers and my shocking discovery of Unilag’s Senior Staff Club’s muster point, I was visibly drained and begging for sleep. 

Sunday was supposed to be a rest from work. It would have been if my brother had not decided to return to Nigeria that morning. Evening saw me in Medinah Estate. An engaging chin-wag soon turned into Farah’s Mobot quest; Surulere was gained after 1a.m.

31st March was as normal a day as they come. Being a Monday, there was a lot to read and a lot to note. My desk is demanding as I had to knock down the extant order and build from zero to infinity. A desk more demanding yet without concomitant foundations has never stared another in the eyes. But I was committed to the gutting, filleting and headaches.

April 1st had begun like any other day. The evening before, I had gotten home a little earlier than usual. A quick shower and sans a meal (my ever-widening waistline frightens me), I hit my comforter between 9.30-10.00p.m. The aim, as always, was to wake early and work through the night.

A 1a.m. wake-up was not beyond me. And I rose a little after my target time.

Then, She happened.

Kima, my Dell Latitude 5500 Series laptop refused to come on.

I am used to the madness of devices, so I looked at her with an askor. Knowing there was not a drop of alcohol in my body since Saturday last (Sirs, brothers and friends, I have retired from drinking O … I retire at every last bottle and backslide at the next opportunity), I manually shut her down and went into a contemplative state. 30 minutes later, I pressured her power button with hopes of a tango: same wickedness; she failed to budge from her bellicose frigidity.

Kima’s behaviour was extremely annoying but keeping my cool in the face of provocation has lately become me. A controlled intake of breath and my annoyance with Kima disappeared. My layman’s diagnosis suggested two issues –Screen or Hard Drive (Olu-Jordan, thanks for all the harangues).

Seeing there was nothing I could do with Kima that night, I turned to ‘DeNike.

Monogamy of investigation has hardly been my forte. But ‘Denike was better than nought. Guardian UK remains a favoured bookmark. And, so she proved. Sleep argued with me till about 6.45am. I slept knowing I was not going to the office early. A lazy wake-up at some minutes to 9 had me heading to Kima’s saviours.

Then, He happened.

Shaitan!

On Akinhanmi Street; sunny morning!

He had alighted from Belzebub’s Okada, greeting and bowing to me. I had scrutinized the bastard’s face for a recall but I failed. A quick scan, as the bastard approached, did not spot any hidden weapon or sudden movements. I relaxed. I was perplexed with his behaviour as I am the last person to go to a ‘jump’, spray any musician or relate with his ‘type’.

My core thought was on Kima’s saviours.

I, mistakenly, relegated my Barabas’ mien to the alarming sub-culture of able-bodied young men begging.

He moved in on me, fawning and generally making me ever uncomfortable. A hand shake (tattoo was espied), a bewildering tug of my pants, some nonsense about the police, some more nonsense about where he lives, some more nonsense about his fictitious name (and my fictitious name) and then, he shook me again and bowed almost to my pelvis.

Two minutes max.

A few steps afterwards, I noticed that ‘DeNike, my dearest love and moderator of the swirling world around me, was missing.

But her abductor had long vanished.

A rueful smile lit up my face. None has ever escaped due vengeance after causing me injury: My Pick-Pocket will be caught. And ‘DeNike, my unassuming love, will be the catch.

Kima was later, professionally, diagnosed as having screen and hard drive issues: a cancer of sorts.

2014 joker’s day was a personal disaster. But I will laugh last.

My Pick-Pocket, Ayo, will by now have gotten high via intoxicants on the money from ‘DeNike, my BlackBerry Bold 9780. Some weeks or months from today, I will apprehend him. And though, I was played the fool, when I have Ayo in my hands, both of us will re-evaluate and determine April’s real Fool.

Kima happened; He happened. For closure, I must happen to Ayo.

Salaam.

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