Come, let me tell you what happened to me on Saturday.
I like chilling at Beerhugs on the weekends. Lere can be really hot and honestly, there is no such thing as the combination of chilled beer, hot women and cold AC. On this day, I’d downed like 3 beers with my guy, Hill and we discussed Mourinho at Spurs. “It will end in tears” was said a couple of times by both parties and we both had a good laugh. For some reason, the Dj reminded me of those Dj’s at those one-year-old parties when we were younger — he kept mixing old and new songs together. We kept drinking.
Around 11, Hill stepped out. His woman had been suspecting he’d been cheating (well, he was but “How dare her insinuate with no evidence!”) so, he had to be home early to redeem himself. After a few hand clasps and hailings with the customary “after you na you o”, he left. By this time, I was half-drunk so I decided I’d leave soon. Didn’t want to waste the high so I texted this bicurious chic that’d been giving me Darko vibes this week. She wasn’t responding, so I dragged my staggering ass up and walked to my uber.
Adeniran Ogunsanya at night can be mistaken for a sane place. The lights are bright, the women are convincing and the roads are free. I found my cab in front of Domino’s and with minimal conversation, he started the trip at once. “Ah”, I thought. Just my type of driver. I made a mental note to give him 5 stars and nestled in for a quick nap. My mind randomly raced to a tweet I saw that said women can’t afford to sleep in Ubers for fear of their safety. I closed my eyes and thanked God for my penis as the driver headed for my house at Oregun.
Just then, Shawty called me.
“Where are you? Sorry, I was busy when you called..”
I really hate phone calls and I was sleepy, so I said she should check her WhatsApp. I opened the app and guess what greeted me.
A nice looking pair of breasts.
Yo, I was suddenly wide awake. I didn’t know I had gotten through to this babe sha. On the radio, Wizkid’s Electric Jam came on while I was thanking my stars all my whining wasn’t for nutting. I responded with the appropriate amount of smileys and effusions as the cab sped along Ikorodu road. I was still a tad tipsy so my words flowed like rainbows on a wet day. She rewarded me with more nudes. Shots from every angle imaginable, madame was more flexible than my Saturday schedule.
“Let me see your dick.”
Ah, the cookie in the cookie jar.
Every promiscuous man must have in his repertoire, a host of prickstine shots that show his engorged phallus in all its manifest glory. That, my dears, is a given. You might be called upon at any time. You do not want to be caught unawares or with your dick in your hands, metaphorically of course.
Simply put, I was always strapped.
Open gallery, scroll down to pricture, hit send.
“Stop there.”
I felt the car slow down and come to a halt. Alarmed, I peeped outside the mist covered window. Where the fuck are we? I struggled to gain awareness of my surroundings. Oh, it looked like Allen Avenue. My silent knight was talking to somebody through wound glass. Someone was pointing a flashlight at me. What in the…?
“Come down.”
A group of men dressed in black tapped at my window. I recognized them immediately, the Nigerian police force.
My heart leaped into my mouth. I mentally searched myself for contraband. Where was the kush Hill suggested we smoke earlier? Hay God. These people have gotten me. Ah, Segalink, thank God I crammed your number. Wait! He took it from me, the selfish fuck. I wasn’t holding anything. Just my lighter in one of my pockets, my wallet in the other and my phone. The tallest of them had already opened my car door so I stepped out. Needless to say, the alcohol had cleared from my eyes like white chairs after a Yoruba Owanbe. My eyes were sharper than the Huawei camera. Ah, na Lagos we dey.
With the Nigerian Police, my strategy was always to play it cool. Ain’t nobody trying to become a hashtag.
‘Oga good evening oh! How e dey go now?”
“Who be your Oga? What’s good about the evening?”
“Ah, sorry make una no vex.”
“Where you dey come from?”
“Na my guy birthday jare. We just go drink for one side and I dey go house.”
“Oh, so you’re a cultist?”
“What?”
“Water. Why are you using an iPhone? Are you a yahoo boy?”
“Oga, this trip dey read now. Make una free the…”
Tuwaaaaaiii.
Like a Bluetooth dewise that is ready to pierre, one hot slap successfully connected with my Uber driver’s face. He went back to being the silent knight.
At this stage, I’m so confused, I want to laugh. I’d recently learned that I react to confrontation and duress with bursts of mirth and it threatened to manifest.
The shorter officer dragged me by the arm. “Give me your phone,” he says.
Meekly, I give it to him.
“Open it.”
Without thinking, I slide my fingers over the touchpad.
He bursts out laughing and calls his cohorts. Its the most wicked sound I’d ever heard and trust me, I’ve heard Patience Ozokwor cackle. My uber driver and I exchange glances because we can’t understand what’s going on. Then like a ton of bricks, it hits me.
“You are gay. You and your lover. You are following us to the station. Park this car here. Enter this truck. Na una dey spoil this country.”
He flashed my phone at me. It was pictures and pictures of my penis.
To be continued….
