If I get enough requests by way of comments, I will tell the story of his mother…

He is my wee little man.

The boy is a wonder. Not just because he is my son, but because he has the capacity to creep the hell out of me.

Do not get me wrong, I love him. Most people do too. He is only three years old, but he carries on like one much older.

I had been out of the country for a week, and so he had to stay with his mum. It is not as if I have custody or anything, but he prefers to stay with me.

From the moment he was born, he took to me. He loves his mum, but he has decided to terrify me incessantly.

He loves almost every thing I like. The smell of coffee, aftershave and incense.

He loves fast machinery… My Mercedes-Benz AMG® GT, a Harley Davidson I have had for years and watching formula one.

He even likes Spartacus (the series) and boxing highlights that end in knockouts.

Oh, and he also knows how to bypass parental control settings on my decoder.

Did I mention that he is three years old?

I picked him up from his mum’s place and was headed for the Silverbird Galleria when he spoke for the first time that day.

“Dan, we have to be careful today…”

Yes, my three year old son calls me by my first name and is a bit of a psalter.

Creepy-ass kid!

I have an office in the penthouse of Silverbird Galleria. I planned on a brief meeting because with a kid in tow there was little I could achieve.

“Da – an…”

“Yes my Chairman?” (that is his nickname)

“Don’t worry, I will be alright yeah?”

“Oookay… Just hold on to my hand…”

He hates unnecessary physical contact. Predictably, he declined.

Silverbird Galleria is simply a well – maintained shopping mall. It houses a cinema, gymnasium, designer brand outlets, bank branches, lounges, fast food brands amongst other flashy franchises.

Security is strict. Due diligence is consistently observed.

The affluent and wannabe’s alike throng the mall in self – induced self respect. It is a safe place to be.

Chairman and I had just gone through the metal detectors of the VIP entrance. We were then headed towards the private lifts to the west of the mall when a ruckus at the main entrance distracted us.

I remember smiling down at Chairman and telling him that a celebrity was visiting the mall.

Ms. Ini is an amazing actress, recently divorced. Not too tall, and a bombshell. ‘She would be a perfect date for Valentine’s day,’ I told him.

To which Chairman favored me with a sly smile. He is a good looking kid… But creepy as hell! Lol…

I looked across one more time and caught a glimpse of my crush being escorted by her private security up an escalator.

I looked back down and my son was gone.


In less than five seconds… My kid was just gone.

I felt my heart constrict painfully.

I started to hyperventilate.

I looked around wildly, nada!

In the center of a sparsely populated mall… Bloody hell!

I shouted for the mall security and they came running.

I am a known patron within the mall. I guaranteed the jobs of at least ten of the malls’ security officers and have another five staff of the mall that owe me favors. They literally shut down the mall for me that day.

A couple of minutes later, his cryptic admonitions started replaying in my head. I felt tears cloud my eyes.

I was hurriedly ushered upstairs towards the security room. All cctv footage were processed there. It was located on the third floor.

Announcements were already being made describing my son over the mall’s public address system.

I was knee – deep in shit!

The heat and malicious rumors his disappearance would generate would ruin my empire! His mum would die of heartbreak. She would sleep tonight and then die in her sleep before morning.

I called the commissioner of police and he benevolently put out a BOL & an ATL. He is a close ally and a great man. The city of Abuja was sealed almost instantly. Check points were activated at strategic locations in concentric circles from around the mall into the city.

“Oga, no be your pikin that woman hold so?” An excited mall official yelped pointing excitedly at the monitor.

“Which floor is that?!” I yelled already dashing out of the door.

“Fourth floor sir, make we follow the stairs. The ‘lift’ fit waste time.”

I was grateful for the dedication of the posse that were panting behind me.

Bless those men… All of you!

I came up out of the spiraling staircase with murderous intent. Whoever she was, I planned on inflicting pain in a few seconds.

I knew that the mall security would hold me back and so I deliberately increased my pace…

And almost ran into Ms. Ini.

The actress / celebrity / crush – thingy I was talking about earlier…

She was even lovelier up close. A lot smaller than the big screen portrayed… But as certain as sunrise tomorrow, she is stacked!

Just the way I like my women.

She and her entourage seemed to be headed towards the stairs I just lunged out of. My mien, speed and bulk had terrified the group into an impasse.

She had my son in her arms.

“Daddy!” He screamed out in glee…




Why was he calling me ‘daddy’?

Forget that he was in the arms of one of the country’s sexiest filmstars…

And how he got to her at all…

He did not like to be carried…at all!

“Chairman! I was worried! I am so upset with you! I am not happy at all…”

“Dah-ddy… Meet my friend Ms. Ini. She does not have a date for Valentine’s day either.”

She and I burst out laughing nervously at first. and as soon as I took her tiny hand in mine the laughter got quieter. Warmer. Tingly-er…

Everybody loves my Chairman… his cryptic admonitions started replaying (again) in my head. I felt tears cloud my eyes…

“Awww… It’s okay… I found him wandering. He’s such a smart kid. I love him! I would have never allowed him get hurt. We were coming to look for you… He insisted that we take the stairs…come here…”

And she dropped him and gave me one of the best hugs of my life. ‘The first of many’, I mentally promised myself.

Long story short, we exchanged contacts and shared a few cocktails that same night.

Everything ended well. Ms. Ini agreed to dinner come the fourteenth of February by seven pm. She magnanimously agreed to meet up in Abuja.

I planned to call @benmurraybruce, I was going to shut down Silverbird Galleria come February 14 for that night. Just Ms. Ini and I, and maybe some violinists … No matter the cost.

As I sat looking down at my sleeping son at about midnight (that same night), his eyes flew open.

“Dan, she is not your wife. Just have fun.”

He turned away to face the wall, leaving me with my mouth and eyes wide open.

Creepy-ass kid!

If I get enough requests by way of comments, I will tell the story of his mother…

What Happens On The HASH… (In Honour Of AH3 18TH ANNIVERSARY)

I just met her.
Adele – kinda woman. Yes, she sings too.
Quiet. Too quiet actually.
But the eyes behind those spectacles…they spoke volumes to me… Within seconds I knew a lot …
She wrote this story.
I connected with its plot and I will try to give you a wider perspective…

{Beyond Redemption:

There she lay on her back, her body rocking as the man went in and out of her, sweating and panting as
though he was doing a 10 kilometre run. He was pot-bellied and greying already. He was definitely way older than her friend Susan had told her…

… Disgusted could not explain how she felt at the moment. She was irritated, not just at the man but mostly at her self and maybe life. As if life had not been cruel enough to take her parents away, she had had to drop out of school to fend for her siblings…

… Why had she agreed to this? Why had she come here? She knew it was definitely going to end in this, yet she came. She had had no plans to sleep with this man,,, so what made her leave her house to come see him? …

… She blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes… 

… So why on Earth did she stay back after realising her mistake in coming..? ‘Maybe he’d be the type that just wanted company and not sex…

… The love and tenderness with which he spoke to his daughter. What would this man think of her tomorrow? A prostitute? 
Definitely! Who else would readily sleep with someone old enough to be their father.. Someone they did not even know…

‘… Jane, you’re a prostitute’, she told herself. 
‘A shameless one’…

… She had never felt this rotten in her miserable life. This was not living, was it? She was merely existing…

… There she was in bed naked with a pot-bellied old man grunting on top of her. She had refused to kiss him as much as he tried to force his mouth upon hers. She couldn’t bear the mouth odour touching her lips
This was what she had brought upon herself. And what was all this worth?
And to think they never even talked about money before the sex. So she had no idea if he would even give her some cash when they, rather when he was done…

… “Oh God!”, She wept. “How did I fall so below your Grace? How did it get this bad?” 
She remembered when she was eleven singing in the church choir. How amazing it had felt being in God’s presence. Now she couldn’t even remember the last time she had prayed let alone been in a church. 
What had her life become?

… She was drawn out of her thoughts when she felt him jerk and grunt louder..
“Oh thank jeez” The torment was finally over. 
He rolled over and fell asleep immediately his back hit the bed. She stared at his huge stomach and resentment washed over her. 
She wept more… Totally ashamed of herself. She picked her clothes off the floor and slowly dressed up. Trying as much as possible not to wake him up, she quietly snuck out of the bedroom into the sitting room…

… There she crumpled to the floor and wept bitterly, knowing that no matter how much time passed or how many lifetimes she found herself in, this dirt would forever be etched in her mind. She was tainted for all eternity…}

I work hard.
I earn every penny I spend.
City to city. Select destinations around the world. It’s never pleasure. Just business. I know I should relax. Doc says my blood pressure is too high…that he would have me rest…
Well… I will rest when I die.

I prefer to be alone. It’s easier frankly. Women are convoluted… Making money is my mistress.

So I am in Keffi, Nasssarawa state of Nigeria at the moment. I am passing through to Jos, Plateau state.
The fuel scarcity is brutal. My driver drops me off at a lodge called Minki, and then heads of to adorn the long chain of vehicles queuing up for petrol.

The hotel is okay. I sit by the pool and sip on a generous serving of Campari.

I strike up a conversation with a young lady close by. Her name is Susan. She is a student at the University in Keffi. She is about Maya’s age. I have about thirty – five years on the child.

That’s why it was funny when she started flirting with me. She was not my type and I told her so. We drank and talked for a while. The liqueur loosened my tongue and my usually strict code of ethics.

She had a friend I would like, she said. What room was I in?
The friend arrived an hour later. Emboldened and suitably intoxicated I started to undress her.
She would suffice.

Her breasts were rather small.
I was grossed out by the hair under her armpits, only because they smelled stale.
She was unshaved down there too… Hairy legs further down.
Her belly was my worst problem. It was a pot belly. It’s protrusion exceeded the protuberances of her breasts. I hate that in a woman. Especially if you’re not a mother of four kids and above. You belly should be largely flat otherwise!

Her redeeming features were her stunningly beautiful face and large buttocks. Trim waist.

That stomach though! Suck it up!!


She’s quite lacklustre in the sack. She will not kiss me. She is unbelievably naive.
And she starts to weep tight – lipped.
I cannot wait to get this over with. A waste of my time and money.

But I realize that I feel something. I feel like I understand her plight. I can empathize.
She clearly did not want to be here. She was getting no pleasure.

All she probably needed was some money.
All she probably wanted was (maybe) my benevolence. All she probably desired was a functional father /parent.

As I climax I reason that I will invite her to accompany me onwards to Jos. I want to hear her story.

I am rich.

I will help her out, I can afford it a hundred million times over.

If I figure she is a mere hustler, I will simply make it worth her while.

I am a chronic insomniac. But I feign sleep immediately.
My heart breaks as I hear her whimpering beside me.
I feel her leave the bed and the rustle of fabrics let me know she is dressing up. I listen to hear if she would try to steal from my wallet on the table.

Instead I hear her sobbing softly from the other room.

I then decide that I will become her benefactor.

I will take care of her. She is a true victim.

I will marry her.
It has been too long since Hannah died anyway.