I had been driving around aimlessly. Officially the sallah holidays were slated for Monday and Tuesday, but Abuja was already empty. This was Sunday afternoon… Area 11 Garki bore striking similitude to Chernobyl.
I was bored. Lost. Pissed.
Not my ideal Sunday afternoon. I was bereft of excitement and desperately needed to get into some trouble… Yeah, I get that way occasionally.
I had just approached the intersection before the new CBN building in the CBD of Abuja. I slowed to a halt at the traffic lights, my eyes on the counter counting down at the red light; 10 seconds to green. Suddenly a Nissan 370z blazed past me. It beat the red light.
About 5 seconds later, the lights went green so I moved ahead. I was about a hundred metres from Ceddi Plaza when I saw her.
She was light skinned. Beautiful. Summer dress, sky blue I think, fluttering because of slight winds. Her hair was worn long…she looked like she was torn between keeping her hair out of her face, and her dress down.
Then as I slowed I saw her rump. The ‘miss’ had some serious ‘junk in the trunk!’ Not the obscene sort, this protuberance on the lady looked firm…worthy of closer inspection. If that sort of derrière cooked your noodles. I was not at all interested, but I slowed to perform my civic duties and issue a citizens’ arrest! We could not have seductresses and sirens causing anarchy and chaos on our streets!!
As I stopped in front of the ‘taste of heaven’, I heard the usually tragic screech of brakes applied suddenly. I braced myself for the corresponding crash but heard nothing. Looking around I eventually saw that Nissan 370z parked a little too close to my hood. He had apparently backed up and stopped too suddenly.
Looked like he had a problem with me, or the ‘Miss’.
I killed my engine and stepped out. Went round the front of my car toward the by now bewildered lady. Opened my mouth to say something to her when speedy Gonzalez intruded rudely.
“Hey darling…need a ride?”
I glanced at him incredulous, there is honor amongst thieves. I got here first! Ceteris paribus.
“I got here first…” I unnecessarily informed speedy Gonzalez.
The man actually shoved me aside to get to the Miss.
“Hey…!” I squeaked, my tenor tending alarmingly toward a feminine falsetto.
In response he whipped round and poked me in the chest. I poked him back…
He then supplied me with the hardest backhand slap I had ever received since boarding school.
“You want some more punk?” He growled at me.
“She is my wife”, I muttered evenly.
Unbelieving he turned to her for confirmation.
She nodded in affirmation.
She had called to say she had car troubles. She had gone shopping. She lived in diaspora, back only to spend a few days with me. I had been looking all over for her…worried.
I have never backed down from a legitimate cause. I do not lose battles or wars. I am not afraid; of blood or anything. And so I began taking off my Patek Philippe.
“Run…! Please!!” My wife screamed at him.