By Ibrahim Suleiman
I pride myself in my work ethic and the fact that I always know who I am, and what I’m about at any given point in time. But right now, I haven’t got the foggiest idea what my last 24 hours have been about. It feels like a poorly scripted spoof of Hangover and someone took out all the humour and was evil enough to cast me as the main character. This isn’t the life…
my phone vibrates and I glance at the screen; it’s an incoming call from Lydia at the office. Ugh! I would rather eat goldenmorn and ketchup than go in to the office on a Sunday.
Sha, I take the call. What can I say; I love what I do for a living. The first thing I hear is, “dude, where’s my car?”
Say what now???
I peek out the window and true enough, right there in my driveway is Lydia’s Elantra and I have NO CLUE whatsoever how it got there. Then she proceeds to tell me that I drove her car home and left mine behind, with my keys in my pocket. Which kain life be this?
She says she’s coming over to get it and that my car is still at the karaoke bar we went to celebrate last night after work.
So I went out last night with the colleagues. At least I can talk to them, get some insight into the missing 24 hours of my life.
Lydia shows up in a cab 20 minutes later and she’s rather upset. I seem to have gone on a piss-everybody-off spree last night and done a great job of it. I excuse myself from Ireti and Seye who is on the phone with Bisi (he’s probably trying to talk her into convincing her parents that he would rather keep her and the baby than have three-and-a-half-year-old kolanuts and yams returned to him. Poor chap).
Anyway, I let Lydia into the compound and give her the keys to her car.
She gets into the car and immediately hops out like a jack-in-the-box while squealing like a piglet. Apparently I had left the window down on the driver’s side, and the seat was soaked from this evening’s rainstorm.
I just can’t catch a break, can i? I start to apologise as she pops the trunk and goes to the back to get a rag to try to soak up the water from the seat. She raises the boot lid and the next thing I know, a goat jumps out.
I kid you not (pun intended)
Lydia freaks out, slips and lands smack on her ass in a puddle. The goat excitedly skips out of the compound and beyond, into the great streets of Lagos. At this point I’m just confused. Like how in the world…never mind.
I sha give that goat 12 hours to live free before gracing an impromptu barbecue somewhere. Against its will of course.
At this point, Lydia is startled, muddy, pissed off and in tears. She just kicks me in the shin, gets in the car and backs out of the compound like she was James Bond chasing a villain. Well…I guess she won’t be answering questions about last night then. And that kick HURT! These girls that wear heels all the time sha, calf muscles like mutants and all that…
By now it is about 930pm and Seye says he’s heading home so Ireti asks him if I could ride with him and drop off where I could get a cab to the karaoke bar. That way, I can pick up my car real quick. He agrees grudgingly and we get in. I instantly wish Ireti had come with us to act as a “buffer” but Seye is already powering down my street, mess-face screwed on tight. I look back at my gate and contemplate opening my door and hopping out of the speeding car.
What? Jack Bauer does it ALL the time jo. Well, it’s too late for that now, I’m on my own with Shay-man. In his speeding car.
While he’s pissed off.
Dear Lord, hear your son’s humble prayer: keep me alive.
Bisi calls Seye, and he takes the call on his earpiece. I keep having panic attacks whenever we approach a large tree or stationary tanker/trailer on my side of the road because I’m afraid the man will ram my side of the car into it and call it even.
I get an email from my MD congratulating myself and my team on sealing the deal with the last multi-national company we were working on procuring their account. Hmmm…so that’s what I and my team went out to celebrate last night. Good.
That answers the ‘why’, I know the ‘where’ and the ‘who’. What was missing was the ‘what’ happened there.
Suddenly, Seye says,” let’s go to my house first, then I’ll drive you to the bar to pick up the car.”My initial response was, “oh, great! Thanks man, because it looks like I left my wallet at home.”
Then I kon tink am; what if he and Bisi planned to force-feed me the three-and-a-half year old kolanuts that her parents returned until I die and use chemicals to dissolve my body in their bath-tub like Walter White? I mentally slap myself; too much Breaking Bad is bad for real life.
We get to Seye’s house and l see Zubair’s car parked in front. I chuckle in my mind, perhaps Bisi called Seye to come get Zubi to leave because she couldn’t stand him.
We walk up to the door and Sheye rings the bell.
Zubair and Bisi in the same space?
Under the same roof?
This should be interesting…