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It’s Another Saturday…#3

The Girl Next Door They say the best cure for a hangover is more alcohol. This is my way of the ninja. I catch a cold, I take ice water. I stub my big toe, I punch a door. I sleep with my brother’s psychotic fiancée, I get over the shock by smashing another chick. Not intentionally, though. This encounter just sort of happened. I didn’t go looking for the girl; she came for me and the rest is for the books. I start the day, as you well know, roughly. Having just discovered that I’ve committed an abomination I become sober and start to reflect on my useless life. I try to pray but I feel God won’t listen, that he has allowed this adversity to fall on me as punishment. I have decided to take it in stride, although I haven’t concluded on what I’ll do with Tola.…


This story was told to me by my mother. I tweaked it a little. Adesuwa was a dreamer. She visited places in her mind no eye had ever seen. Many times she would sit outside her grandmother’s hut after sundown, and whilst helping out with the evening meal, dream about unknown kingdoms ruled by powerful kings that walked on all fours and ate with their ears. On other occasions, she drifted off into a land where clay pots and wooden plates and spoons came to life and took over the world of men. Alone, she would break into loud, hysterical laughter that sometimes had her rolling on the floor, forgetting that her grandmother, who was always around the corner, was waiting for the slightest reason to smack her back into reality. At such times that she gets into trouble for being herself, Adesuwa would simply apologize, tongue-in-cheek, and force herself…

For Better For Worse [Evelyn] by Sally

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE EVELYN 1980 Jamila rushed towards the sound of the piercing scream. It was coming from one of the suites in the family wing of the presidential villa. As she approached the hallway, she realized the screaming was coming from Evelyn’s suite. “Eveyln!” she called and burst in. She found her, now quiet, sitting on her bed with a haunted expression on her face. She walked to her slowly “Ev?” Evelyn did not respond. Her eyes were transfixed on the wall before her, glaring at a painting of her husband she had paid some nameless artist in Namibia to do. Igwe had been very angry when the painting arrived at the villa and ordered it be taken down from where it had been placed by the paintings of other family members and burnt. Then he had a row with Jamila who was against the decision and…

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