The ‘What If?’ Series. (Dan-ifying The Biblical Adam & Eve)

I would like to tell you a story.

First off, forget all you think you know about the story.

The Story is set in eternity. I would not dare to add or subtract from The Truth.

But I am compelled to entertain you. I am obligated to open up the eye of your understanding.

As always, embedded in all I will ever write; exist ‘gates’.

If you know, you know.

Once upon a time there was one made in the likeness of the Author and Finisher. (This is how I was told the story began.)

He that was newly created, he was alone. Not lonely.

He traversed the length and breadth of his dominion.

The story says that he had been commissioned to name all things; animals, plants et al.

He was a maverick. He was a pioneer. He was was a (Before Christ) Tarzan.

In short, he was badass!

Original badass!

Now El Shaddai ran a few algorithms. In His brilliance, He deemed it fit to make a Help Meet for Badass.

And then voila! there was this hottie at the whim… The caprices of Badass.

Let us be real for a bit… We are all adults here.

Fellas back me up on this;

A virgin.

Younger than you are.

Totally ignorant and largely naive.

And lest I forget, perpetually naked.

Yes naked.

As was he… Bad-assery!

Keeping it real… This was the first recorded insinuation of sex.

This was also in that year when men lived to be hundreds of years old.

Can you imagine the libido in that dominion?!

The unmitigated and uncensored lust!!

Their eagerness. Their dedication. Their devotion. The love!

They must have tormented the animals incessantly. Their ruckus most likely made primates cover their eyes and ears in embarrassment.

He was whipped

She was dick-matized.

They were in a utopian euphoria of some sort.

Inseparable.

In the version of this story, (the story that was told to me and I am telling you), one day Badass stumbled on the devil weasling around The Forbidden Tree.

Of course he had his bride… woman, queen, sex slave etc in tow.

Hey… She must have been gobsmacked by Badass.

Inseparable.

And then the devil sold his lies convincingly.

And Badass nodded in permission to his Help Meet.

Whereupon she hurriedly picked /collected / harvested / plucked a fruit off of The Forbidden Tree.

Eve? In that era and dispensation? Dare leave her protector / husband / lord / new-found lover??

And dare to strike conversation with any other thing without his say so?

Impossible!

Rubbish!

According to the way that the story was told to me of course…

According to the story, the one I was told, Badass instructed his woman to eat of it. And then he ate.

Help Meet was old-school; loyal, graceful, obedient, wise and respectful. She backed up her man’s story. She did not let him down.

From the sentencing all the way to banishment she refused to snitch.

Of course Tsidkenu knew exactly what Badass was doing. He was not deceived. But He saw them as one. A few centuries later He would allow the ‘untimely’ death of a couple. They lied to an apostle about proceeds from land sold.

Rohe would not interfere in the affairs of man without requisite invitation though. So He did what He had to do. This version of the story agrees with the original one.

No… That was not Freudian. I slipped for a reason.

She lost her home, her comfort zone, her security. She was cursed alongside her man and she served her time with dignity, style and grace.

That woman was certainly ‘ride or die’.

Wife-material!

Ahem! The above is exactly the way the story was told to me of course… Hehehe…

The story goes on to reveal that Help Meet may have been less educated than Badass. And so there exists Badass’ version of this same story that is popular and well accepted. And original.

No… That was not Freudian. I slipped right on point.

And so my friends, I have come to the end of the story that I was told.

If I ever hear another story I deem worth your time, I will tell it.

You may leave your comments on this blog.

Thank you.

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WANTED: A SOUL.

Do not read this story out loud at night.

Do not read this story in front of a mirror.

Do not. Never ever. Do these two things at the same time.

The first time it happened, I was about five years old.

My mother was out of town I think. We were left with her beautiful sister. My aunt was a ‘babe’, and so she had loads of distractions. My sister and I were left to our own devices.

It was a safe neighborhood. Mama Carol was a Grey-haired, overweight neighbor. Kept to herself largely, but always had a smile for kids.

I had just been smacked and so I was downstairs weeping. I was seated on the steps waiting to report my aunt to my mother the second she arrived.

Mama Carol shuffled over and consoled me. She pressured me into eating some sweets. She promised me that it would be our secret – secret.

That night I was in a dream. At least I thought it was one. Most of the kids on my block were there. Except for Zoe, my sister.

Mama Carol and a few other adults were in charge there. They taught us to be rambunctious. They taught us spells I grew to recognize them as curses. They taught us to basically terrorize our families.

There was a premium on blood and death. Big bonuses were promised if anyone died by our hands.

I always woke up tired in the morning. I found it stressful.

They stopped bringing me into their meetings when I asked why we could not drink a cola or Kool-Aid as opposed to blood.

The second time was in my freshman year.

Of all the fraternities to join, I ended up being tapped by one neck-deep in wars and battles. You could get shot or stabbed by these people for anything (real or imagined) ranging from a fart to your height. They were just so… Bloodthirsty! Their bloodlust was bananas!

A lot of brothers died. But Bello took a shine to me and protected me. Prior to his graduation, he oversaw my initiation ceremony. It was performed by the banks of a large river. I saw and heard things that I cannot talk about. Let me at least say that there are many entities on earth that are not human.

One day I deflowered the woman who would become my wife. I love her. While she slept, I felt nature ‘call’ me. Afterwards, when I stood up to flush, I was astonished to see the cistern filled with bolts, nuts, keys, chains, padlocks, a small bearing and all sorts of metal.

Suffice it to say that I wisely avoided getting shot at or stabbed after that incident. I was hitherto impervious to death.

The third time was when I was contesting for public office.

Whilst on campaign, I visited with my constituency. It was a townhall meeting.

The oldest indigene attended and requested to meet with me. At the end of that meeting, I foolishly allowed him to lay his hands on my head and pray in a dialect I did not understand. My sycophantic team kept screaming ‘amens’.

I won in the general elections.

I always win.

Even when I play chess online, I win. And I do not play chess! The game or prize does not matter. If I competed for anything, it was mine.

But people around me seemed to die every couple of months. Like clockwork. I have been attending more funerals than ever in the last four years.

And so I have taken to telling everyone of my experiences.

Uhmmm, no. This snitching is not allowed. It is an offense punishable by death in every coven.

I teach people how to break free of; blood oaths, selling of their souls, demonic possession, enchantments and divinations… I set free an average of twenty five souls every month. For the last year or so.

Then just last night, the fallen one shows up offering ‘my soul’ back to me… Lol…

Really?

Really?!

I am having too much fun with this rogue behavior. He can keep ‘it’.

I up and accepted Jesus into my life a while back. Lol…

I have a better deal with God.

Do not read this story out loud at night.

Do not read this story in front of a mirror.

Do not. Never ever. Do these two things at the same time.

Nah Woman No Cry

If you can manage it

Except when you make love to her

Do not make her cry often.

In retrospect I suffer wisdom

Because I learned the hard way

Tears make up your love in her heart.

Every time you make her cry

You deplete her love for you

Happy tears though, fill love back up.

They get ‘cried – out’ sir

Then they feel nothing

Indifference is the opposite of love.

Inevitable

There is a quota

It will be met one way or another

By you or another

This need must be met.

Said quota is a desire

Arguably a burning need

Disagree all you want

This need must be met.

It mostly sets the sexes askew

They become inept umpires

Regulating psychological needs

This need must be met.

The woman must talk

The man must have sex

Each at moments deemed ludicrous

This need must be met.

Till Death Do Us Part…

Have you ever seen someone die?

Random stranger? A loved one?

I mean in real time, right before your eyes?

I saw my husband die.

It is not pleasant.

Especially when they die by a knife. The look… That realization that they are dying. The shock. The disbelief. The insecurities show in those final moments… Their lives laid bare for everyone discerning…

Oh, and the pain! He died via stabbing. I physically felt his pain. Good Lord! It was horrible!

I should feel no pity for him considering all the hurt he put me through. But, in retrospect, no one deserves to die like my husband did.

I am way ahead of myself…

Good morning. How are you doing today? Have you eaten? I hope your family is doing well? I do not know you, but I love you. Yes I do… These days my love is shed abroad.

So, my hubby.

I married him when I turned eighteen. He was always my friend. Strange fragmentation of words I know. Even Microsoft Word advices that I consider rephrasing… Nah… He was always my friend.

He was already an adult when I met him. He watched me grow. He was a family friend and a mentor. I told him everything! He provided counsel appropriately. He was my first. My best. And my life.

Was…

He was…

Was, because he started cheating on me. The signs were there, I did not see them until the very end.

He is very secretive. That enigmatic ‘introvert-ion’ started to reek of infidelity. I could not touch his mobile devices. I was constantly on eggshells around him. He seemed to be hiding everything all the time.

Luckily I had friends. Women who were older and wiser. Single moms, spinsters and fellow married women. Their advice was unanimous.

“He was up to no – good”

That revelation provoked me to the point of insanity. I loved this idiot! I had given him my virginity, my substantial inheritance and my heart. I had sacrificed everything I was, just to be with him.

Ene, my friend had a story like mine. In her case though, she had ‘arranged’ for her deviant husband to suffer a fatal misadventure. She had been his next-of-kin, and so she had full custody and control of his estate.

And so the seed was planted in my heart. Who was my husband’s side chic? Who was he sleeping with apart from me?

Unfortunately, he was a taciturn man. He never volunteered information. I was running mad with anxiety.

To further rub salt in my festering sores, I started to chance upon evidence. Some of my friends confessed that he had either propositioned them or had slept with close friends of theirs.

And in a blind rage, I contacted Ene.

Ene ‘fessed up and hinted that my husband had (at some point) behaved inappropriately toward her! She had been flummoxed until now she whispered sadly.

I was livid!

I immediately transferred the required amount of money to her and set the date for his painful death two weeks from that day. I confess that I tossed in an additional fifty grand for his painful demise.

Idiot!

He was home uncharacteristically early for his appointment with death. He was in a good mood. He must have made some money because he arrived with a large grilled salmon and expensive white wine. He was flirtatious throughout dinner and had even done an online bank transfer of a little under a million dollars in my favor ‘just because’.

Too much, too late.

I placed my hate on ‘simmer’ and fucked him senseless that night. He was snoring lightly when I got dressed an hour later.

At about 12:55 am, I opened the door at the back of our home and sure enough the door handle turned in confirmation. The door opened a fraction of an inch and stayed slightly ajar.

I returned to his side and must have fallen asleep.

I awoke to sounds I could not place. I jumped out of bed when I did not see my husband in it.

As I emerged out of the narrow corridor into our spacious living room, I witnessed the contract killer drive a long blade from behind my husband right through until the first three inches popped out of his torso.

This scene was pure coincidence. There was no set plan as to where or how my husband was to be murdered (at my behest).

However, therein lay the assassin’s dilemma I presume. I had seen his face.

As my husband crumpled lifelessly to the floor, the man’s eyes latched upon me.

In a flash he was upon me. I am not playing, from approximately three meters away, he suddenly had my throat in his left hand. Squeezing tight.

I was going to die too. I kept clawing at his face and iron-like forearms.

“But I paid you…! This was not the plan!!” I managed to get out repeatedly.

His brutish features were marred even more by bloodlust. He was hissing involuntarily. Specks of spit garnished his blackened lips. His breath was fetid. His eyes were out of focus and almost seemed ecstatic.

This sick, degenerate wanker loved to kill!

Our bodies are only a vessel. I started to step out into the ‘unknown’ when suddenly I was released. I fell to the cold marble tiles dragging air through a bruised trachea into tortured lungs.

I could only hope that the knife would make it quick…

But the pain never came.

I think I suffered a mild stroke when a hand touched my face. I went into a seizure when I saw my husband’s face.

Literally. The seizure I mean.

Was I dead like he was?

It is ancient history that my husband did not die.

He survived the assassination attempt and arose to drive the assassins own blade through his own temple.

And I am here living in hell…

You see with my husband you can never tell. Did he hear my conversation with the hired killer?

My husband is a bastard. I think that he did. He heard everything I said. And all else in between.

Then he decided not to die.

Then got up and killed our killer.

And then decided to keep his peace as usual.

Did not matter if I died in apprehension.

It has been a five years since. He has never broached the topic.

Not. Even. Once.

Donjuanesque

“Tan largo me lo fiáis”

(translated as “What a long term you are giving me!”)

List of Characters:-

1) Don Juan (The Black Version)

2) The Mother in law

3) The Wife

4) The Wife’s Sister

5) The Father In Law

Don Juan (The Black Version)

“Mankind is wicked; I am a man.”

The Mother In Law

Monique was not sure what it was about her son in law that she disliked. In truth, there was nothing obvious to dislike. He was wealthy. He was a good looking young man. He was charismatic and suave. His confidence oozed. He was a great speaker and was frequently on television seducing viewers with his eloquent delivery. Most importantly, he made her daughter happy.

But… There was something ‘dark’ about that boy, she thought. She did not trust him. His innocent, piercing eyes held yours always. No, this boy was ‘no good’. She could not put her finger on the issue, but her maternal instincts were never wrong.

The Wife

Celeste was in utopia! Her friends were green with envy and told her so always. She had snagged a major one. Don Juan was quite literally every woman’s dream. Tall, dark, handsome and rich. He was generous, likeable and good in bed. The sound of his voice always caused her ‘lips that could not speak’ to moisten. In urban parlance, she was dick-matized!

He was kind and gentle to her. He pretty much left her to her own devices. He always pampered and spoiled her rotten. They were so in love!

The Wife’s Sister

Uhmmm…maybe later. It’s too early in the story to feature this character. Please be patient.

The Father In Law

Derek was discombobulated. He was a rich man. A devoted father of two beautiful daughters and husband to one wife. He was a rich and powerful man. He was feared and respected. Many young men had unsuccessfully tried to marry his angels. Scallywags! Scoundrels! Gold diggers!

Not Don Juan though. The boy wanted nothing! He did not seem to want anything but to be part of his daughter’s life. He was respectful, thoughtful and handy. He always knew someone that could get anything done. Two years into the marriage with his daughter, and everything was picture – perfect. Celeste was a handful, just like him – her father. She was opinionated and stubborn. Proud and spoilt. But Don Juan was the perfect husband and son. Yes, the son he never had. The son he wished he had.

The Wife’s Sister

Oi! Again with the pressure?! We talked about this before…

Uhmmm…maybe later. It’s too early in the story to feature this character. Please be patient.

Don Juan (The Black Version)

“Whenever your woman becomes irascible. It may be seasonal or locked in her DNA. That my friend is the time to woo her, pamper her, make love to her… So she never suspects that you are banging another woman more agreeable.”

The Father In Law

Derek was paralyzed with fear. His ulcers seemed intent on killing him the next minute. His bowels were loose and he was perspiring profusely. How could this have happened? Monique, his wife had swooned again. The detectives had arrived to confirm their worst fears. His daughter, Celeste’s sister, had been kidnapped. The ransom was set at ten million dollars. The money was not the problem, but they all knew that his daughter would not return the same way again. Maimed perhaps. Raped whilst being videotaped, certainly. (for future extortion and leverage). Killed, fifty percent likely.

The country was a zoo!

Don Juan (The Black Version)

“Things happen, not always within a man’s control. What he may control is his reaction, and the inherent advantages every tragedy encapsulates.”

The Mother In Law

Monique was a nervous wreck. Her blood pressure was currently sky high. She was also currently the sole owner of the worst migraine this side of the Atlantic. She was in and out of consciousness. The sedatives the family doctor had given her were just enough to make her drowsy. Derek, her poor Derek was in and out of her bathroom so frequently that her massive bedroom now reeked of vomit and diarrhea.

Then she heard Don Juan on the phone. He was speaking in a strange patois she was vaguely familiar with. Broken English. Pidgin English. She did not know that he had it in him. His voice was now a sinister rasp. He was threatening somebody. He was giving an ultimatum. He was threatening retribution up to two generations. He was promising death. Painful death in such detail that as she listened on she broke out in vivid goosebumps. He was not Don Juan at the moment… This was a maniacal demon!

She did not think that he loved her family this much. Maybe she was wrong about him.

The Wife’s Sister

Oh for crying out loud! Is this your story?! I cannot work under these conditions! Not yet I said!

Uhmmm…maybe later. It’s too early in the story to feature this character. Please be patient.

The Wife

Celeste beamed widely at her parents as the Uber crept up the driveway of her parent’s house. There was another car driving behind the Uber. It was occupied by three men of the underworld. Her parents grinned weakly back. Their necks stretched in anticipation and apprehension at the approaching vehicles. As her sister stepped out of the car, her mother sank to her knees and wept in relief. Her father ran up and bodily lifted his lost but found daughter in a bear hug.

Celeste smiled proudly at her husband. Her man. The hero of the day. One phonecall was all it had taken. The three men had exited their vehicle too. They had spread out strategically. They were all armed with hand guns. They all wore masks that hid their faces. They were a jumpy, skitterish and shifty lot.

Her sister walked up to her and warmly embraced her. Then turned towards Don Juan and launched herself into his arms crying.

Don Juan was holding a small gym bag full of money. A token for the thugs that had delivered her sister. So he could not hold up her sister for more than a few seconds. He gently set her down but she clung to him like a USB in a manufacturers approved slot/port.

Her sister had a massive crush on her husband, it was an open secret. Most women did.

Just then, her drama queen of a mother (still on her knees) let out a blood curdling shriek. The ‘crazed’ mother snatched up a large ceramic calabash that adorned the small fountain in front of the house and arose. She charged at an unsuspecting Don Juan bringing the vessel viciously down towards his head.

The Wife’s Sister

Queen had been Don Juan’s lover for as long as he had been Celeste’s husband.

Don Juan had told her that he should have married her instead of Celeste. His wife was a misguided feminist. A rebel with no cause. A spoilt self centered brat.

Don Juan had promised to elope with her. They were in love.

His role in her rescue had caused her to abandon a bit of common sense and discretion. When she hugged him, she had naturally reached behind him to cup his taut, muscular buttocks. He responded by subtly, almost imperceptibly driving his hip into hers.

Just then her mother looked up and caught them. And then mother dearest simply ran mad.

A gunshot rang out.

The bullet went straight into her mother’s forehead killing her instantly. The perpetuators scurried into their car and zoomed off towards the gates.

And great was the pandemonium forthwith…

Don Juan (The Black Version)

“All that you know is all you have learned. All that you have learned is not all there is to know.”

THE END.