Simply Hillarious

You've got to read THIS!

Dear Fantasy Queen.

Once every week I spend 30 minutes trying to decide what I should blog about.
This week started no differently.

I had narrowed it down to three possible contenders.
First , I considered blogging on the delightful fact that ,over the last three months, I had lost 6kg. True, It was hardly the stuff of triumphant tales but I was still happy. Three months after my mum’s scathing appraisal, I was safely back within the healthy walls of my BMI (That’s Body Mass Index thank you very much!). As far as health was concerned, my weight was normal. Even better whenever I wore a T-shirt I was paid compliments. A week ago Someone actually called me sexy. I didn’t let it get to me though. The sun was out and she probably was short sighted. But it was an appreciated compliment. Who cared if I was yet to get the required six packs demanded by the female populace ( to get that I probably would need to loose 2 more kilos and devote a month to the gym.). I certainly didn’t. It really wasn’t fair. A man had to work hard to get an appealing body. All a woman had to do was eat and the curves would appear. Curves on a woman was good. Fat settled on a man’s stomach leaving him looking like some distant relative of Santa.
On a woman it migrated gracefully to her hips leaving her the object of many late night fantasies.
The way to man’s heart was through the stomach.
I was beginning to suspect more and more that what was meant by that was one of two things.
Ignore his bulging stomach and he would fall in love with you.
Or Stuff your stomach and resultantly gain bewitichingly fantastic female hips.
Either pay little attention to his stomach or more to your stomach (and ultimately your hips and butt.)
Both would guarantee the attention and ownership of his cholesterol clogged heart.
One thing was certain. Curves on a lady were acceptable and attractive. On a guy it just was unhealthy and occasionally gay.
Men were fat. Women were just.…thick!

With my body nicely silhouetted in a T-shirt I figured blogging about my return to the appealing demographic would be a lovely idea.
It was certainly something to consider writing on.

Also worth considering was the happy situation that had developed between I and Andromeda. For the last two months we had spent every weekend together. The first three had been in a Salsa class laughing over our pathetic imitations of the dance instructors mesmerizing swivels. He swore under his breath as he struggle to make Matadors of us. Each time we failed, trampled beneath the raging bull of clumsiness and inexperience. It was fun but after the third lesson she had suggested we spent the next week doing something less tasking and still as much fun. The next weekend we met for Ice cream. We enjoyed our evening made up off slurping ice cream and chatting about our week’s tale that it pretty much became our default arrangement.
The Dance instructor didn’t miss us.
He never called back.
For the next 3 weeks she took me to her favorite ice cream spots. I have never been much of a fan of ice cream scoops but she sought to remedy that. I’ll admit I enjoyed the conversion process.
And why not? What is better than slurping ice cream with an attractive lady?
Rhetorical. You don’t have to answer Afrobabe.
The sane part of me points out that I might have lost more weight if I had abstained from so much ice cream but the whimsical side counters that what I might have gained in weight I would have lost in romantic blissful hours.
I have been lacking there lately you see.
And yes. The last 8 weeks has been fun. There was something between us two. I wasn’t sure what it was. But it was there. I was confused. I considered writing to Blogsville and asking for their opinion and advise.
It was something to be considered.

Finally a part of me longed to revisit the interesting world of Angel Mourinho. I had found myself missing him and his naivety. I wanted to see what he was up too. I had ideas of what that might be and I had hope that come this week I would share my ideas with my friends.

All that changed after Fantasy Queen’s post.

For those of you with confused frowns on your faces, Fantasy queen happens to be the moniker used by one us. She is a blogger. A delightful blogger whose page has always left me filled with interest and delight. Her last post was a still a delightful read but this time it had the added twist in that its interest was in me.

Fantasy Queen,, upon reading my recent Stolich encounter had ventured her opinion about Stolich and I.
It was not strange what she suggested—The hint that perhaps I and Stolich were more than just friends. The belief that eventually we would end up waking up one morning with 3 children and a wedding ring between us—I had heard it a lot of times and never once failed to laugh. Hearing her echo the views of people was not strange. What was strange (and eerily interesting) was she went on further to propose a speech which my eventual declaration of love (and Stolich’s grudged acceptance) would come with.
And the speech was good.
Very good actually.
So good in fact that I regret the fact that I am unable to use it.

Stolich and I are great friends with all the makings of a great romance. But Naapali and Afrobabe are right in their assessment. If I were to try an overture in a bid to ask for more she would break out into such unbelievable laughter God would wonder if he had accidentally cancelled the rapture.
As important as all this is what is important is that which I have kept on repeating.
I don’t want a relationship with Stolich. We’re like siblings she and I. I could no more imagine kissing her than I could my sister. And just as I can appreciate how lovely my sister looks without feeling the urge to make advances I am trapped in a similar lethargy as far as advances to Stolich are concerned. Stolich and I are more than friends. We’re great friends who will go through life comforted in the knowledge that in each other we have a friend , a best man and a window into the world of the opposite sexes when the need arises.

So yes. We’re great friends. But sadly we cant be more.

Despite the finality of things between us I was still deeply moved by the headiness of Fantasy Queen’s borrowed speech. I felt it would be such a waste if I let something so beautiful go to waste.
The problem with the speech was that it was tailored to only one scenario. I could only use the speech with someone ( a female) who happened to be my best friend. Since no one other than Stolich fitted that bill, I quickly realized that unless I did something drastic I would never get to use the speech.
And so I decided to do something about it.
What I needed, I immediately realized, was a new best friend. Someone whose company I could enjoy for another 2 years before breaking down into silly tears when I confessed that somewhere beneath the nights of watching movies and pillow fights I had somehow fallen madly deeply in love with her. I would look her in her eyes and read out the wordings of FQ’s speech word by word with the appropriate inflections where it was needed.
It seemed a good plan.
Much better than my idea of jumping off the second floor with an Umbrella.
Dont get me wrong,Jumping off the second floor was probably a lot safer than falling in love but the flight was rarely as nice.
I decided then that I would find a lovely girl. Make her my friend. And use the lovely speech when I realized I could no longer do without her.
I didn’t care how long it took.
Much admired actor, Billy crystal took 10 years in the classic “When Harry Met Sally.” Before professing his undying love. I would take my time.

But where to look?
Where did one find a girl who was willing to be best friends with an insanely ridiculous blogger who spent more time thinking about having a shower than he did actually having the shower?
Where did one find a girl cute enough to guarantee that I would fall in love with her?
How did one go about such adventures?

It seemed a pretty hopeless mission.
Everyone I approached seemed taken or unavailable.
Angelina was married to Brad.
Jlo was still married.
Audrey Hepburn was dead.
There seemed an unbelievable absence of volunteers.
And then, just as I was about to give up and request that blogville pick my next topic of blogging (thereby saving me another thirty minutes of weekly thought) I noticed an interesting fact.

I have only met two bloggers in my life time.
One of them is Fantasy queen. We met once. A contrivance by mutual friends of ours. We met at some Café in the palms. The café was sited a few feet from the movie theatres. Seating there I was guaranteed a first row glimpse of the beautiful girls that were on their way to watch movies. Dressed from outrageously brassy outfits to the demure I couldn’t deny the fact that most of the girls coming to watch movies were attractive. From my position I had a clear line of sight.
And then fantasy queen stepped into the café and sat opposite me.
I didn’t look at any other girl after that.

So here I am, months later , wondering who I could possibly become best friends with.
And suddenly I realize I know the answer to that question.
Hello fantasy Queen!
Will you be my Best Friend?

Weekend with a Friend.

Her announcements were like the jarring gong of a doomsday clock.
They first came in two weeks ago.
I was seating in my office daring the devil to make my day worse. Unfortunately for me he had just returned from Somalia and was checking up on his mail. Mine was first on the list.
A beep from my phone alerted my attention to the arrival of an SMS. Staring at the caller ID of the sender, I was already weary before I read the message.
“I’m coming in two weeks.” it said.
I’m coming in two weeks, it warned. I shivered quietly and pretended the air-conditioning was set to low. Two weeks. I thought to myself.
Two weeks! That wasn’t enough time to fully prepare .
Subsequent days were graced with like messages.
I’m coming in 11 days.
I’m coming in 10 days.
I learnt how to count backwards from 14 all over again. I made silly jokes about the messages to reduce the message’s ominous note—coming in 11 days? Must be some Orgasm—it didn’t help much.
On Day 8 it got worse. I got a call instead of a text.
“Did you get my text?” the voice demanded over the phone.
“Yes. I did. “I muttered.
“Good. See you soon.” And then the voice was gone. Replaced by a dull monotone which did nothing to lessen the exasperation I was feeling.
On day 14 my phone beeped shortly after I stepped into the office.
“I’m in town.” The message ran. “We’re meeting for lunch. Make sure you have gist.”
Simple. Straight and to the point. The text did nothing in way of warning of the insanity that loomed behind its announcement. But I was wiser.
Today was going to be a long test of patience and exasperation.
Stolich was in town.

We agreed to meet at 4pm.
The location was at a popular fast food restaurant renowned for its past brilliance in making burgers. At 5 past 4 I walked through the doors and braced myself.
She didn’t disappoint.
“CARLANG!” She screamed.
I stared at her as she walked over to me with her mischievous smile on her face. She still looked the same. Still the same rosy glow. The same confident swagger. She was still lovingly cute.2 months ago she had called me to complain that she was going fat. Looking at her, I couldn’t see where the extra lard was laid. Possibly, her butt looked bigger but I was only assuming that because some guy behind was staring at it.
She squeezed me in a bear tight hug.
“Howz my best friend?” She asked happily.
I looked around the restaurant quickly. There were over a hundred people in it and all of them were looking at us. Some things never changed
Stolich was like that. She could walk into a stadium and still draw attention..
“I’m good.” I said dragging her to the nearest table. She plodded along behind me slowing my quick exit into a comic display of couple dis-unity.
Maybe she was right about the weight gain. She certainly felt heavier.

I sat down at the table and stared at her silly face.
Stolich and I had been roommates years ago. During the period we had developed this weird mode of communication were we really didn’t need to talk to know what the other person was thinking.
She didn’t use it.
“Howz work?” She asked me with a happy grin.
Fine. I replied. And then I went on to explain what I meant. For the next 5 minutes we chatted about out individual work places. Our opinions seemed to be matching. Our bosses were idiots. Our coworkers were annoying. Hers kept on hitting on her and mine kept on slapping my back. We agreed that our salaries were at deplorable levels—A raise wouldn’t be a bad idea—but despite it all work was somewhat fulfilling.
She nodded her head in satisfaction and then gave me the look.
I knew what was coming before she asked.
“When last did you get laid?”
I sighed Inwardly to myself. There it was. 10 minute with Stolich and she was already demanding the skinny on my coital affairs.
“Er.. I don’t want to talk about it.” I said defensively. I considered dashing off to buy a burger but knowing Stolich she probably would continue the conversation at the counter.
“You don’t? What is wrong with you?” She rolled her eyes in mock frustration. “What happened to you? I used to boast about you! I used to tell my friends you were the world’s greatest lover”
“Really?” I laughed.
“Stop laughing. It’s not funny. You’ve become boring!” Stolich snapped. Her eyes retained her irritation briefly and then were replaced by something a lot worse and scary.
She smiled.
“Have you ever had sex in an office?”
I laughed at her.
“No.” I replied.
She smiled even brighter.
“Well I have. It was fantastic. Bloody fantastic. One thing we were talking and the next thing we were naked in his office.”
“His?”
“Andre.” She said.
I nodded. Andre had been her boyfriend for the last 4 months. I hadn’t met him but I certainly had heard of him. I found the fact that she was dating hilarious. She had finally broken up her 6 year relationship only to end up firmly in another barely 2 weeks later.
“Right. How is he?”
“Fantastic. It was great. I haven’t had sex that good in such a long time.”
I closed my eyes in frustration.
“I meant. How is he? Relationship wise. Are you guys happy?”
She paused to consider the question.
“I think we are. He is a really nice guy . Very funny. “Her look turned serious. “He says he wants to marry me.”
I almost broke out into laughter. One of the major reasons why she had split with her last boyfriend was because she said she wasn’t ready for marriage. Something he had been clamoring for. Now it looked like her replacement boyfriend was cut from the same cloth.
“What’s wrong with that? You’re getting old you know.”
“I’m 24!” She snapped.
“DO you remember Mother Teresa?” I asked.
“Yes. The very old nun who died years ago?” Stolich asked.
“Exactly. She was 26 when she died.”
Stolich laughed out loud at me. “You’re such an idiot.” She said.
I shrugged. She called me that every 10 minutes. Maybe it was true.
“You didn’t answer the question you know.” She reminded me. “When last did you get laid?”
“Not this month. That’s for sure.” I mumbled.
She gasped.
“You’re insane. How do you handle the pressure? You jerk off?”
I shifted in my seat uncomfortably.
“Every guy jerks off. “ I muttered. “If any guy says he doesn’t he is lying.”
“I don’t think that guy does. “ Stolich pointed out, gesturing to someone behind me.
I turned around. Seated behind us, with someone who looked like his mum, was a teenager with a cast on both his arms.
“Maybe he broke them jerking off?” She asked me with the same silly smile on her face.
“You’re impossible.” I said.
“And you are just frustrated. I can’t believe you haven’t gotten laid.”
Her voice was loud. Two girls at the table beside us heard her announcement and sniggered. I felt myself blush. I wasn’t getting up to leave until the restaurant was empty.
She laughed at my discomfort. She seemed to enjoy the fact that her teasing was getting to me. I was glad at least one of us was. I wanted to strangle her with my hands.
“DO you still Blog?” She asked.
“Yes.” I said. Delighted to get the subject on some other area of my life that didn’t require me naked and sweaty.
“Seriously? That’s neat. “Her tone took a wistful note “Do you still blog about me?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I haven’t blogged about you in a while.”
“Really? Why not.” She asked.
“Everyone started suggesting I was in love with you. Even worse they began suggesting the ridiculous idea that I was going to get married to you.”
Her eyes became guarded.
“What’s wrong with that? You couldn’t marry me?”
I am officially a klutz. Men really are from different planets. I was still recovering from the probes I had weathered concerning my sex life. I was not really thinking. I looked into her eyes and made a mistake.
“Good lord. You’re joking right? I could never marry you!”
And just like that. I hurt her.
It was there in her eyes briefly. Earlier on I mentioned that we had mastered the art of speaking without saying a word. I regretted that particular bit of skill now. I looked at her and I realized I had hurt her without meaning too. I must have sounded like a jerk.
“Because. You’re too much woman for me. Sex in the office? You’d give me a heart attack before our first anniversary.” I said quickly.
It worked.
She laughed at me.
“I think you’re exaggerating. But you’re right. I probably am too much woman for you right now. Unlike you, I happen to love sex.”
I flinched.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it means. You need to get laid man. You’re probably so charged you’ll soon get yourself pregnant.” She laughed at her own joke. Beside us the girls at the table laughed too. I hope they weren’t laughing at me.
“I’m always at work.” I protested.
“So? “ She leaned in towards me with a mischievous grin. “You should try having sex in the office. It’s great.”
As I sat down there listening to Stolich. It struck me how different the world had come in the last 100 years. Here I was being prodded into a physical relationship by a girl who was very confident in her sexuality. Human social relationship had come a long way from the conserved relationships of later years.
Mankind had freed itself from its restraining chains. Prometheus had given us fire. We had invented fireworks.
Stolich was still talking to me. She was close enough that I could inhale the sweet musk of her perfume. She really was an attractive lady.
“It was fantastic. “ She was saying. “First we were kissing and then...”
“ I don’t want to hear what happened!” I said quickly.
I needn’t have bothered. Stolich was an unstoppable express when she sought out to be. For the next 5 minutes she recanted in detail the tale of her Office adventure.
I sat there listening.
I suspect the two girls beside us did as well.

Do Geese see God?

I could count the veins on her face.
Her skin glistened with a mixture of body oils and sweat. She had been screaming obscenities for half an hour but the last one minute it seemed like her voice had gone unbelievably higher. Her eyes were red with the fury, strain and pain from her exertions. She didn’t even have the strength to cry anymore.
She looked directly at me and screamed one loud word.
“Fuck!”
I felt my face go flush.
It started from my neck and crept into my head before settling itself firmly on my cheeks. I didn’t have a mirror but I knew how I looked to all who could see. My pale face was a perfect canvas for the bright Rudy blush on my cheek. I sighed sadly to myself. This wasn’t working out very well. I seemed to be making a mess out of everything.
I didn’t need to read the manual to know this was an uncalled for reaction.
I was not supposed to blush.
Angels didn’t blush.

“She can’t see you, you know.” A voice said from behind me.
I didn’t turn around to look. I knew already who was speaking. There were only two angels in the room. One was blushing and the other wasn’t me.
I felt him glide and stop beside me. He watched the screaming woman with a soft smile.
“Enjoying yourself, Mourinho?” Angel Legna asked with a chuckle.
I turned even redder and closed my eyes with irritation.
For those of you new to my world the following gleaned information is correct.
Yes I am an Angel and yes my name (as far as this story is concerned) is Mourinho.
The following though is incorrect.
I wasn’t enjoying myself.
I looked at the straining woman in front of me and sighed. Being an Angel was hard enough work.Understanding humans just made it a lot harder.
“She’s in pain.” I observed.
The Angel standing beside me nodded.
“She could die.” I said.
“Yes. It’s a possibility. We’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He raised his eyes to the skies. “Unless otherwise ordered.”
I stared at the groaning woman in confusion. Her pain was so strong it seemed to take a viral life of its own. Infecting everyone around with some degree of her torment. I wanted it to come to an end. Soon. Even if it meant us taking her home early.
“She could have avoided this.” I asked quietly. “She actually chose to go through with this?”
“Yes. “Legna asserted. He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I had only recently been transferred to earth. Nigeria to be exact. Legna was my Orientation supervisor. For the next one week he was supposed to put me through the basics and help me adjust to life with humans. He had been really patient thus far.
“You don’t understand I see.” He said.
He was correct this time.
No, I didn’t.

I had only been on earth for a week and already my head was spinning from the weird traditions and decisions of humans. This was one of them.
Why did humans enjoy smoking knowing how dangerous it was?
Why did some humans like Dogs and others love Cats?
Why did they laugh and cry at the same time?
And just who exactly voted Obasanjo in as president?
Humans were a confusing bundle of exhibited oddities which lasted only long enough to startle you before they were replaced with even more startling displays of quirkiness.
“The last one week, can’t have been that bad” Legna said with a laugh.”Surely you’ve come across something that you enjoy.”
I brightened at that.
“Well. I did come across a delightful little creature. Every evening when I’m free. I sit down with it and I listen to it sing. It’s got one of the most beautiful voices I have heard. Almost as nice as the voices I sang with in the choir.”
“You’re exaggerating.” Legna said with a laugh.
I smiled. Admitting that I was.
“But it does have a lovely little voice. I could listen to it forever. “
“FUCK. FUCK.CHRIST. FUCK!”
We both winced.
I looked up quickly expecting to see a thunderbolt. The ceiling fan remained undamaged.
Across us one of the Midwives rubbed a Damp flannel cloth over her face. She softly brushed her hair back.
“You’re doing okay.” She crooned. “We can see the baby now. Take a deep breath and push.”
“It’s going well” Legna said in a satisfied tone.
I looked across at the straining woman surrounded by a Doctor and Midwives. It didn’t look like it was going well. Her breath was racing. Her face contorted in reflection of her pain.
And what was that between her legs?

“Palindromes.” Legna said.
“What?” I said in shock.
“Palindromes.” He repeated. He flapped his wings and floated softly into the air. “Do you know what they are?”
I looked up at him uncomfortably. He was dangerously close to the fan. Although I knew I was being unreasonably, I wondered what would happen if he flew into the fan.
“Of course I do. They’re sentences that read the same way forward or backwards. Like the sentence. Dennis Sinned. It’s the same thing if you read it backwards.” I said.
He smiled.
“Dennis sinned”. That’s a nice example. Almost as nice as “Madam. I’m Adam!” Although in that one you have to take the spaces into consideration. No X in Nixon. That’s another nice one.” He thought for a second. “A Toyota. Race fast. Safe Car. A Toyota.”
I looked at him
“What?”
“A palindrome. That’s another palindrome. Read it backwards and it still means the same thing.” He said explaining.
“I know that.” I sighed. Just because I was formerly a seraph everyone thought I was slow. “What’s that? A Toyota?”
“Oh…Right. I forgot you’ve only been on earth for a week.” He slowly soared down. “Well. A Toyota is sort of like a Chariot. Without the flaming horses. But it moves. Really fast. Human speed that is.”
“A chariot without horses?” I asked slowly.
“ Yeah. It’s called a car actually.”
“Oh!” I snapped “Why didn’t you say so. I know what a car is. I had an orientation class before coming to Nigeria.”
Legna Laughed.
“My sincere Apologies.” He landed beside me and we watched the woman for a while. I looked on with rising concern. Whatever was between her legs, it was growing. Her screams were unbelievably loud now. My feathers twitched nervously. This was going on well?
“You were wrong you know.”
“What?” I asked startled. I wondered how Legna could remain so calm. The woman was being killed right in front of me by that….thing!
“About Palindromes. They’re not just sentences you can read backwards. They’re can also be words. Like the word Gag. Or the place Aba.”
“Aba. That’s here in Nigeria right?”
“Yes. Interesting place. It’s close to Port Harcourt which is another interesting place. The way things are going over in Port we might send you there really soon. Last week local Militants kidnapped an Angel.”
“What?” I gasped out loud. I looked around quickly. The doctors and Midwives hadn’t heard me. The woman seemed to be looking at me though.
“FUCK ME!” She screamed.
Legna laughed.
“I’m joking about the kidnapping. “ He said.
“Er…. Okay.” I said. My face was doing the red thing again. I looked nervously at the woman. I wondered if…
“She can’t see you.” Legna said again with a chuckle. “You’re just in her line of sight.”
I nodded wearily. I didn’t want to move. The view here was fantastic. And whatever that thing was it now had hands.
I sighed to myself and looked at Legna.
“You were saying? About Palindromes.”I muttered.
Legna nodded in approval.
“Right. It’s not only words that can be Palindromic in nature. Numbers as well can. Like the sequence 1234321. That’s a Palindrome. Same thing in Music.”
“Ah! Music.” I said delighted. I had been a member of the Seraph choir for the last five thousand years before my sudden deployment to earth. If there was anything I was good at, it was music. At least I thought I was. I didn’t know who the singer Lil Wayne was or why he would want to sing about his Lollipop but I did think the music was Catchy.
It was strange. But Catchy.
“Yes Music. Do re mi fa so la ti do. Do ti la so fa mi re do? That’s a palindrome right there.”
“Yes….Er… Yes it is.”I said. My feathers had gone from nervous twitching to full out vibrations. I hoped I wasn’t shedding. Legna could chat all he want but I was beginning to freak out. There was half a body hanging out of the woman. This was more depressing than watching Abraham try to count his children. I closed my eyes.
Lena’s soothing voice came into my ear.
“It’s okay Mourinho. It’s almost over now. Calm down.”
Calm down. I told myself. Legna was right. There was nothing to worry about. If anything bad was going to happen. We were here to stop it. We were Angels. We were here for a reason.
And then out of the blues the reason cried.
I opened my eyes.
The Doctor had a baby in his hands. A beautiful beautiful baby. Her eyes were closed but her mouth was wide open as she screamed her first words. I listened to the baby cry and I knew without looking that my face was bright red again. I hoped I didn’t break out into happy tears. I seemed to be breaking all the Angel laws.
I looked at Legna. He had a satisfied smile on his face. His face looked like there was a blush on it but that was probably just my red haze confusing me. He bobbed up and down in place. His wings flapping slowly.
He nodded at me and pointed to the woman.
I looked and I saw.
I saw a Miracle.

She was beautiful.
Beautiful. True; her face still glistened from the sheen of her exertion and her hair was a tousled mess where it wasn’t plasterd against her skin. But in the center of it all was a lovely smile. Her eyes shone with incredibly warmth and her face which minutes before had been contorted in pain was now trapped in a loving stare. Her skin glowed with love. Oozing care from every pore. I stared at the Butterfly that had lain beneath the cocoon of pain and obscenities and for a second my gaze dimmed.
Beautiful.
“If you cry, I’ll have you sent back to heaven on the next Chariot!” Legna’s voice broke into my reflection.
I looked at him and laughed.
We both laughed.
It seemed everyone in the room was trapped in the same heady sense of Joy that we all were. The doctor was beaming with restrained pleasure in the corner. The midwives were clucking their contents in a corner and the mother, so beautiful, who minutes before had been begging a sexual alliance with Christ was now content with simply staring at her baby. In truth the only person in the room who wasn’t crying with joy was probably the baby. But she was crying so she half qualified.
“They’re like Palindromes.” Legna said.
“What?”
“Humans. They’re like Palindromes. There’s rarely nothing straight forward about what they do. It’s easy to misjudge them based on their actions but that would be a mistake. They are multidirectional creatures. Granted there are occasions were their actions can be judged on the surface of it but more often than not. If you look the other way you find that there are other things to read. Too see.”
Legna looked at me.
“Take war for instance. It’s a horrifying debacle of man pitted against man in a sludge fest of manic gore. They die. In their millions. In thousands of terrible ways. But the purpose of war oddly enough is to bring about peace. The reason behind the slaughtering of millions is so that billons may live. And live better lives too.”
“Do You see what I mean. You have to look around with humans. Never be quick to judge.”
“You see a woman hanging on the corner. She is selling herself for money. Deplorable you say. And then you find out she does this to fend for her three children back at home. All three are in school and because of her sacrifice they stand a chance of having a better life.”
“Or you see a woman willing to go through nine months of back aches, sleepless nights, nausea and eventual labor woes for just the opportunity to see a baby. Her baby.” He smiled at me. “Now you understand.”
I nodded.
“I think so. Human emotions aren’t an exact science. There’s nothing precise about them or their actions. It’s inexact. Never odd or even.”
Legna smiled at me.
“That’s a palindrome you know? Never Odd or even. It can be read in either direction.” He looked at the cooing mother. “It’s a fitting definition of human emotions or the human race. Never odd or even.”
Never odd or even.
He soared slowly into the air.
“I must leave now. I have another assignment. Some mother has asked for guidance over her children while she is away on her business trip. They are about to watch Basic Instinct 2. I might have to knock down a power pole to stop them.” HE chuckled and then looked at me.” If there is nothing else, we’ll continue your lecture tomorrow.”
I raised my wings and dropped them.
“Angel Legna. That’s a Palindrome isn’t it?”
“I’m impressed.” He said.
And then he was off. He shot off into the air. Vanishing through the ceiling.

Left alone,I took a walk outside leaving the mother with her child. Despite Legna’s assurances I wasn’t convinced the mother couldn’t see me. I left her to breast feed her child in peace.
The night was warm with the faintest of breezes in the air. As I made my way down the street the lovely singing creature flew by and filled my ears with lovely music. I closed my eyes and enjoyed its symphony.
I thought about what Legna had told me. Never odd or even.
Nothing in life was as it seemed.
I was learning.
I for instance knew that my new singing friend was called a Mosquito.

A dip..

(I initially submitted this as an article.
After the editor read it she called me back. "It's more like a blog" she complained.
I took her advise and posted it.)



Being Nigerian there are very few things in life that I am afraid off.
I am for instance unimpressed with Mosquitoes. I don’t even flinch when they bite me. Having been bitten all my life I no longer pause to yell my outrage whenever these unwanted visitors stop by. Gone are the days when mosquito bites used to leave me looking like a pimple advert. These days whenever a mosquito bites me at night it usually has to go to the dentist the next morning to fix its broken teeth.
I am equally unfazed with Cockroaches. If I come across one I simply turn around and walk the other way. If the cockroach is stupid enough to come scuttling after me (this happens every now and then) I proceed to plan B—An intricate move which involves a flying shoe and a very flattened, very dead cockroach.
But despite my invulnerability as a Nigerian there is one thing I am still terrified about.
Water.

Well swimming to be exact.
I can’t swim. It is one of those things that I keep promising myself I have to learn. Being Nigerian has taught me caution. You never know. One day I might be trapped in the bathroom with a shower that refuses to go off. Then what would I do?
Swimming, I realized was one of those important things that people never got around to learning. It was a delightful form of exercise for those wishing to lose calories and a perfectly convenient means for irregular transportation. Take the Mexicans who swim into America for instance.
It was quite clear to me. One day I would have to stop procrastinating and actually get around to swimming.

I reached that point last week.
As I celebrated another birthday I decided to do something positive with my new year.
I was going to learn how to swim.
It was surprising how many centers there were in Port Harcourt for beginner swimmers. After inquiries I settled on one which my friend Jeff had recommended. Jeff weighed roughly 120kg. Every time he moved some Asian country suffered an earthquake. And yet whenever I was with him at the pool he always amazed me with the ease with which he moved through the water. He was like a clumsy bungling penguin which transformed into an aquatic marvel once it hit the water. If anyone could teach Jeff how to swim I decided then he must be very good.
So I settled on Jeff’s trainer.

I turned up at the pool the next day.
I was unsure what exactly one wore to swimming lessons. Would I need swimming trunks or would I be given one of those inflatable arm bands. Jeff didn’t help matters much. Shortly before I left he hung a bright Red “L” around my neck.
Just so other swimmers don’t bump into you ,he said.

I arrived at the pool with an excited air. Today I was going to get my license as a swimmer. I wasn’t really worried. There was probably nothing to swim. Just jump into the water , kick your legs, swing your arms and presto, you were swimming.
My swimming instructor walked up to me as I approached.
“You must be Mr. Thrisxtyereix.” He suggested.
“No. That’s my father. “ I said with a grin. “ Just call me Carl.”
He nodded and gave me a serious stare. He ran his eyes over my body. I was suddenly conscious that unlike him my body was not hard and riddled with delightfully placed muscles. He was lean as a Shark and I was …well…let’s just say I wasn’t shark material.
IN front of us a little boy was swimming circles in the water. He couldn’t have been more than five years old. I watched his act with amusement.
“Your son?” I asked my instructor.
He flinched like I had called him a cockroach.
“No. He is not. I have daughters!”
He said this with pride. Like there was something wrong with having sons. I made a mental note to ask my mum about this reaction when next I visited her.
“When do we start? “ I asked excitedly. I took of my shirt quickly and dropped next to my bag which in turn was lying on the Learner L.
He looked at me with a smile.
“We may begin now if you’re ready.”
I laughed in amusement, stretching my hands to the sky. The sun felt warm on my bare back.
“Ready?” I scoffed “I’m a Nigerian. I was born ready.”
And with a running leap I dived into the pool.

Quick lesson.
For those of you who are yet to visit the pool there are things you must know. Most pools have shallow ends and deep ends. The shallow end are designed for people who can’t swim and yet insist on jumping into the pool. Perhaps for the sake of a picture .The deep end are for the professionals who are so skilled they can make coffee underwater if they decided too. Yet still, there are other pools that have shallow ends, deep ends and then very very deep ends.
I didn’t know all this. If I did I didn’t suspect. There was a five year old boy swimming already. Nobody warned me.
The instructor tried to shout a warning as I jumped in but I didn’t quite hear him. All I heard was a shouted “No .Don’t….” and then I was in the water.
.

I didn’t panic for the first 2 seconds. The force of the impact caught me by surprise but I recovered quickly. I kicked my legs in the water. I had read books with instructions. If I kicked with the right momentum I would move forward. It didn’t work out that way. Instead of a burst into sunlight I remained in my water prison. I noticed quickly that I was sinking instead of rising. It didn’t make any sense. Opening my eyes I could see two baby legs hanging above me. My lungs were screaming their alarm. I had been in water for only 2 seconds and suddenly I realized was in trouble.
And then I panicked.
I opened my mouth to scream for help.
I was going to either shout Help to the side or Jesus to the heavens. I did neither. I managed to open my mouth and succeeded in tasting my first mouthful of pool water.
It didn’t taste like sprite.
Water rushed into my mouth flushing out whatever self control I had left. I thrashed about in the water madly. My eyes were bulging out with alarm. I must have looked ridiculous. If a penguin swarm by it would probably conclude I was some confused seahorse. I had fought in the water for another five seconds when suddenly my head broke the surface into the warm sunlight.
I inhaled deeply as I popped out. A sharp pain warned me that maybe I was overexerting myself. I looked around quickly for my instructor. He no doubt was on his way to save me.
I found him still standing on the side of the pool. He was looking at me with a puzzled frown.
“What are you doing? “ I gasped out. “I’m drowning you idiot.”
Then I sunk back in again.
My arms went crazy .They flayed madly in the water. Almost as if they were trying to run away and leave me to drown. I thrashed about in the pool for another 3 seconds before bobbing back to the surface. Frothy foam was all around me. I could feel a dull ache in my arms slowly growing. I wouldn’t be able to fight any longer.
The swimming instructor was still standing at the side when I popped out. Beside him the five year old boy was watching with concern. I had probably scared him out of the water with my swimming antics. I splashed wildly around me. Trying to stay afloat. If I wasn’t so busy trying to stay alive I would have been furious with the instructor. Was this how he trained his students?
I wondered if there were any bodies at the bottom of the pool. People that had failed his course.
Despite my heroics I was losing the battle. I couldn’t fight anymore. In another second I was going to go down again and this time I wasn’t sure I could make it back up again.
“Help me.” I gasped to the instructor. “Please.”
The instructor shook his head at me and sighed.
“Stop being silly and just stand in the water.”
His instructions took a while to register. I struggled for a moment before deciding to do what he said. I let my sink and then stood up.
My head burst into the warm sunlight.


It turned out I had dived into the shallow ending. Standing, the water was no more than 4 feet high. More than enough for me to breathe. I stood in the pool, hunched against my knee gasping for breath.
The instructor and the little boy watched me perplexed.
“ I almost drowned.” I pointed out.
“ In 4 feet of water? You’re six feet!” The instructor snapped.
Beside him the little boy laughed at me. I glared at him angrily. Maybe this was why little girls were better than boys. A little girl would have crying for me.
They watched me patiently until I stopped panting. Then slowly I made my way to the side and climbed out of the pool. Water dripped of me as I slowly made my way to my bags.
“Where are you going to?” The instructor asked. “We’re about to begin your lesson.”
Begin?
I had almost ended my life there and I told him as much.
He laughed at me. “No one drowns in the shallow end. You just panicked. We’ll have to work on that.”
I ignored him and sat down. He was joking if he thought I was going back into the water. I was Nigerian not stupid.
“Oh come on.” He urged with a smile.
“Once beaten. Twice I shy” I said. I picked up the learners L and rehung it around my neck. I didn’t mind that everyone knew I couldn’t swim. I had survived almost drowning. Come Sunday I had a testimony to tell.
“Practice makes perfect” He crooned.
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the afternoon.
He might have had a point but it was flawed.
Practice might make perfect, but nobody's perfect, so why practice?

Day 365

As I stood there with my arms full, my breath a disorganized series of deep inhalations and exhalations, I pondered the journey that had gotten me here.

If life was a series of journeyed paths, then I was standing at a junction which appeared to be the indirect intersection of various roads I had travelled in the last one year.
If my feet weren’t hurting and my arms so full I might actually have laughed out loud. It was funny when I thought about it; The tiny things that I had disregarded which had all joined together to bring me here. Somewhere on the sidelines they were standing with satisfied grins watching me sort out my dilemma. I wanted to reach out and throttle every single one of them.
From the recent entrees to the pixies that were there at the very beginning.

Off course, to do that, I had to be sure when exactly that was.

I think it all started on my birthday.
My last birthday to be exact.
Last year I celebrated my birthday.

As decisions go maybe it wasn’t a particularly wise one.
I was born on the 7th of July. A most unique date if the zodiac enthusiasts and experts are to be believed. My friends certainly believed them.
When my friends realized that my birthday would land on the magical number 07/07/07 they insisted that I simply had to celebrate my birthday.
A firm man would have pointed out that numbers were a pretty silly reason to throw a party.
A broke man would have insisted that a party was a silly reason to use up the numbers in his account
Seeing as I was firmly broke I didn’t fight hard enough and went ahead to convert my cash for birthday party pictures.

My birthday isn’t the issue.
What is, is what happened because of it.
Don’t get me wrong. The party was memorable. I got kissed six times, once by a girl, but that again is not what I want I want to talk about.
What I am talking about is the fact that I danced.
Yes.
I danced.

In years to come when questions are asked, I can always reply that the first time I danced was on my birthday. Prior to that I was convinced that dancing was a ridiculous expression of fun practiced by people who just weren’t cool enough not to dance. Dancing was for sissies I announced. That had been my mantra for most of my life ever since I realized that I was caused with the marionette-like dancing moves of the British. It probably might have lasted the rest of my life had I not decided to throw a party to celebrate another anniversary of said life of mine chugging along.

I’ll never know what exactly made me start dancing.
Maybe it was because I realized that after the party I would unofficially financially be dead. Maybe it was because of the sexy girl who had her arms around me with that incredibly impossibly lithe waist.
Maybe it was because I was drunk on vodka and juice.
Whatever the reason, I thrilled Zodiac enthusiasts by proving them right.
On 07/07/07 young drunk and visibly horny Carlang finally realized his destiny and saved the world from certain Septenary Astral destruction by simply dancing.
Enter Triumph Music.

Granted, it begun in hardly the most classic of tales (a man’s accidental drunken redemption of Mankind is hardly the stuff of Homers Iliad.) but once it started it grew very quickly. All of a sudden I found myself dancing. True I was no Terpsichore, my waist refused to bend as lovely as the siren that teased me out of my cave, but with enough practice I could do the Yahooze and a couple other interesting shuffles. I was growing. A late bloomer, I was determined to get the hang of it. One day, I was determined; I would become a good dancer.

Birthdays are accepted landmark occasions.
Like most people, I found myself making attendant resolutions whenever I approached another one. Last year was no different. I promised myself that I would start writing again. I hadn’t done anything serious for the last four years. Apart from two weak attempts at writing a short story, one of which was a detailed exploits of Jack and Jill’s walk up the Hill, I really didn’t have much to show where writing was concerned.

The morning following my birthday, I decided, midst a blinding headache from a hangover, that I would once again begin to write. Sitting down at the desk, as I stared at the blurred page in front of me I came to another decision. I would begin writing the next day. Hopefully by then I would be able to see more clearly and my fingers wouldn’t shake so much.
To help me fulfill my resolution I decided on doing something drastic and supporting. Something that people suggested would greatly help my writing.
I joined Blogville.

And so it was that last week I contemplated the anniversaries before me.
Alongside my birthday I would be celebrating a year of dancing.
A year of blogging. However irregular that might have been.
And a year since I had gotten drunk.

Too be sure it was hardly the making of a triumphant list, the like of which you might have found in the diaries of ,say, Christopher Columbus--“Dear Diary, today I found America. God help us all.”—but that didn’t really bother me. What was important was the fact that I had actually kept some resolutions for a year despite the turbulence that had come my way.

Besides, if you were going to make an argument out of it, Christopher Columbus didn’t set out to find America. He stumbled on it by accident. I didn’t stumble on an Anniversary of Blogging. I actually worked for it. Keeping a journal was hard work. An electronic journal that is, not the silly little leather book Christopher had to show for 3 years in open seas.
Comparing me to Columbus was terribly unfair.
He had a ship didn’t he?

“What are you doing?” Jeff asked me walking into the room.
Jeff and I had a curious alliance. I was born on the 7th and he on the 8th. We came up with the theory that since our birthdays fell within a 24 hour radius we were kinda born on the same day.
The look on peoples faces whenever we announced our theories suggested that our way of thinking was technically flawed but we children of the 7½ natal day clan are never were one to consider the opinions of others.
“Making a list.” I announced. “It contains all my resolutions I’ve managed to keep in the last one year since my last birthday. My list of triumphs you could say.”
“Have you started on the list of failures.” Jeff asked.
“No.” I said guardedly. “My birthday’s coming up soon. I’d like to be depressed after and not before.”
Jeff laughed at me.
“Whatever happens,” He began walking away “Make sure you add the Spanish chick to your list of failures.”
“Failures?” I said in shock. “Why would you say that? I only met her 5 days ago.”
“You aint done nothing bout it hombre. That counts as a failure in my book!!” He repeated still laughing.
“I’m not failing you idiot. I’m thinking up a plan.”I said quietly.
“Right. Let me know how that goes in another year.” Jeff said still walking away. His head shook from side to side with laughter. Idiot.
I yelled at his retreating form. “Christopher Columbus cheated. He had a ship”.

Spanish chick.
That was what Jeff had taken to calling our new friend, Andromeda.
In the end coming clean hadn’t been difficult.
Andromeda had laughed when I told her I wasn’t really a doctor but instead some physics graduate who had fallen for the physics behind her beauty despite her attempts to doctor them.

If relationships were anything like the play acts that most novels today portrayed them to be, then I was well past the introduction. We had gone by the first two chapters. The heady meeting of two single people. I was somewhere between chapter 3 and chapter 6. The sustenance of intrigue between said heady members.

I was supposed to see Spanish chick come the weekend.
A hang out she had called it. The way she saw it I owed her a lengthy debriefing of who I really was. I had seen her hospital file. She was demanding her pound of flesh and being very greedy about it. What she wanted was a date come Saturday. She left the decision of where to me.
I sensed that my choice would be the deciding factor of how this symphony of ours would end. A roaring finale of triumph or the sad ending of mistakes repatriation found.
Was the final chapter of our tale going to be one of Romeo and Juliet.

Or something more delightful, like my retold comedy of Jack and Jill.

As any man who has had the misfortune of impersonating a doctor would know, you really want to get the second meeting right. I was trying hard to think of some place terribly irregular to have a date and yet delightfully fun. I stared at my listed list of triumphs in frustration. Forget my anniversary of dancing where did one take a Nigerian girl who spoke English and Spanish and still had the delightful hips of a Nigerian?

The answer was quick as it was surprising.

“You’re crazy.” Spanish chick said laughing at me.

“I get that from time to time.” I replied with a silly smile on my face.

“ This is terrible.” She said giggling. “ I’m never going to be good at this.”

“We’ll see.” I said still with the same smile.

We stood together in the middle of the room, my hand gently rested on her firm hip. Her hand was on my shoulder. She was playing out some tune with her fingers.

At our side the dance instructor was yelling out instructions at us and the rest of the class.

“Salsa is all about rhythm. Tap. One two three. Tap. One two three.”
He did a demonstration. An incredible blur of motion with his feet that left all of us newbie dancers with jealousy and dread. Still dancing to the music, he grabbed a large lady who belied her size by moving easily across the room with him sensually swinging her hips as she did. “Rhythm.” The instructor yelled again.

Show off.

Beside me Andromeda punched me.

“You’re crazy you know. What in the world made you invite me for Salsa lessons? How did you know I would come?”

I shrugged.

“I didn’t. But I hoped you would. It would have been terrible if I had arrived alone. Everyone else has a partner. I would have had to dance with him.” I said pointing out the instructor.

She smiled at me. Her eyes said a million things. They all sounded good.

“Happy Birthday.” She said.

“Don’t jinx it. It’s not till Monday.” I pointed out.

“Again.” The instructor yelled from across the room. Asking us to resume the forward and back shuffles that we had been doing for the last one hour since we go there.

And so I stood there with my arms full, my breath a disorganized series of deep inhalations and exhalations, and pondered the journey that had gotten me here.
Last year I had started dancing.
This year I was beginning Salsa. The difference was slight but progress had been made.
Thinking of progress, I looked into the bewitching eyes of Andromeda and inhaled the soft musk of her perfume. She had her hair in tiny braids. Black laced with touches of violet. It added a hint of mysticism to her. In my arms she looked even lovelier than I remembered.

Her eyes were filled with mischief and her lips looked even more beautiful when she laughed after stepping on my toes for the 134^th time. As we murdered our first attempt at Salsa, I thought of all my triumphs thus far and wondered what I would be celebrating come the next birthday.

Life was an interesting tale. I stared at her lips. They were still trapped in her enchanting smile.
It was worth the read just to see what happened next.

Carls Anatomy.

I am not a doctor.
It is very important that everyone remembers this. At some point in this story of mine the debate of whether or not I really am might arise.
For those not paying attention.
I’m not.

I had a lovely weekend.
By the end of Saturday I was convinced that, come the following week, I would recount my exploits over my blog. Saturday was a delightful day. A day which had me attending three equally delightful weddings. The last and by far most memorable ended abruptly when the host grabbed a bottle and threatened to stab some guest who had insulted the Bride’s mother.
In all the confusion no one noticed me grabbing most of the cake left in the tray.

Yes. Saturday was fun. From the three weddings I attended, to the finale buffet my friend threw to usher out his married sister. (Said Melee wedding was not his).
But as memorable as Saturday turned out to be it had nothing on the antics off Sunday.

My friend Jeff belongs to a family of Doctors. His mother and father are the directors of a Clinic. Sensing the dark plan being forged by his father—a dream that he would one day takeover the family business—Jeff applied for a course in Computer Science. A path he was certain would protect him from his legacy.
As plans go it perhaps was a lovely idea except his father was determined. Once Jeff left school he handed the construction of the Hospital Database over to his son. And just in case that was not enough. He bought a CT scan unit and handed the operations over to him.

This was why on Sunday I was in the Hospital with Jeff.
The South African Contingent ,coupling and training would be operators of the CT scan, were working that day. I think Sunday falls on a Monday in South Africa. Jeff asked me to tag along with him to watch them set up the machine. It was a pretty fun exercise I suppose but after one of the South African Radiologist warned me that I could risk getting sterilized from the radio waves if I hung around long enough ,I decided to leave the room and explore the clinic.

When I say explore what I really mean is the Clinic had this really cute doctor who not only was delightfully single but was actually silly enough to consider me a lovely friend. With the choice of being beamed to death firmly out of my head I made my way to her office.

She was having lunch when I got in.
I found out what exactly she was eating when she screamed my name. Trapped between her lovely teeth I made out the bits of what looked strongly like peanuts and banana. I wondered amusedly why I didn’t find it a turn off.
“You’re here.” She said with a smile remembering to swallow.
“I should hope so. It would be weird if I dreamt up a balding Male South African Caucasian Radiologist.” I replied with a laugh.

I sat in her Doctor chair whilst she remained on the observation bed.
She offered me a bit of her Banana and groundnut but I declined.
I wasn’t really hungry I told her.
She nodded and we kept on gisting.
After 4 minutes she repeated her offer.
This time I accepted. I was starving by then.

And so it was that we were seating and laughing about nothing really in particular—she told me that she got a lot of her features from her father. I nodded and replied, He must have nice boobs—when suddenly there was a knock on the door.
“Come in” The” doctor said wearily still laughing.

And then she walked in.
Memories are deceptive. You can never really count on them for accurate recollection.
Take this particular bit of memory for instance. The way I remember it when she walked in Time slowed down to a halt. Behind her there was a flutter of doves as they swarmed into the room. Her lovely face was lit up with a nimbus. The glow echoing of the red gloss on her perfect lips. Beneath her head her clothes hugged her body singing a soft sensual song with every step she took.
I didn’t exactly see the violinists but I heard them. The melody of the String Orchestra filled the room as I stared at the lovely lady that had just walked in.
Like I said, Memories are unreliable but I am completely convinced of the last detail.
She walked into the room gave me a smile and then started my Sunday.
“Good Afternoon Doctor.” She said to me.

Looking back at it I could understand how she was mistaken.
I was sitting in the doctor’s chair.
I was at the time playing with a stethoscope.
I should have corrected her error right there and then. I should have.
But I didn’t. Common Sense was buried beneath a pile of groundnuts and Bananas. Instead I looked at her with a smile and said.
“Good Afternoon. And how are we today?”
Beside me, On the Gurney table, my Doctor friend looked at me with a smile. Her face was contorted in a struggle not to break out in a laugh.
I glared at her with a frown.
“You know what. “ I told the beautiful patient. “I need to run upstairs. My intern here will attend to you. Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”
I walked out of the room very quickly before the actual Doctor convulsed from restrained laughter.

I returned to CT scan room hoping to find everybody had been beamed into dust. No such luck. They were still working on the assembly. Something about switches not being firmly in place. Everything else was okay. The machine hadn’t gone critical and initiated a Nuclear Countdown. Hospital work was really boring.
“Are you a doctor?” A South African radiologist asked me.
“What?” I asked with a dumb look.
He gestured to the doctor’s Stethoscope which I had slung over my shoulder.
“Oh?” I said. “No. I’m not.. It’s just. Never mind. It’s a long story.”
He nodded and studied me for a minute.
“Doesn’t it have anything to do with a girl?”
I stared back in stunned shock. Had the radio waves turned him Clairvoyant?

After 5 minutes hanging around the CT room I decided to return to my Doctor friend and test out my new Super powers. I hoped the radio waves had given me something neat. Like Super Speed.
“Where have you been?” The Doctor practically yelled at me as I walked in.
Patient Aurora had left the room. The Doctor was seating on the gurney again. Her legs swinging gaily back and forth.
“She likes you.” She announced with a happy smile.
“Me?” I scoffed out loud. Within I gasped in delight.
“Yes you.” The doctor laughed. “After you left the room she kept asking about you. Asked me why she couldn’t just wait for you to return and examine her.”
“Examine her?” I said with a blank expression.
The doctor chuckled and shook her head at me.
“What was wrong with her anyway?” I asked trying to act degage “Or is it something you can’t tell me.”
The doctor laughed.
“No. she’s fine. She just had Malaria that’s all. A bit of Typhoid came up in her blood test.” She smiled at me. “She’s clean incidentally.”
“I didn’t ask that.” I said with a laugh.
“Oh no. I’m volunteering the information. Just incase you were trying to avoid getting her number.” The Doctor said laughing.
“How would I go about getting her number? She’s gone already.” I said.
And then she walked in.
Again.

Just like that.
One minute we talking about her and the next thing the sexy devil was in the room.
She barely glanced at the actual doctor. She looked straight at me and said.
“Doctor I have a problem. Is there any way you could help.”
I grabbed the bottle of peanuts and tried to look Doctor like.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“The Clinic Pharmacy is taking forever to give me my drugs. Is there anyway you could speed them up. They don’t have enough change at the moment but I need to get home. I’m Starving.”
“Yes.” I said. “You should eat. It’s terrible to take drugs on an empty stomach.”
Sometimes it helps to remember what your mum tells you.
Behind the doctor gave me a silent laugh and then announced.
“I’ll go see what I can do.”
She didn’t wait for a response before she ran out of the room. I hoped the CTmachine blew up and killed her with it.

I sat at the table for half a minute trying to think of something incredibly witty to say. My brain was asleep.
Me?
Nothing to say?
“Is it bad?” She asked me.
“What?” I asked.
“My results.” She said gesturing to her file which was still on the table. “Is it bad? You’ve given me an awfully long list of drugs to buy.”
“Oh no. You’re fine. We’re treating you for Malaria and Typhoid. A bit of it came up in your blood test.” I said quickly. “Other than that. You’re fine.”
I stared at her lips.
Very Fine.
I was still brain dead. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was about to have an imaginary surgery that would take me from the room when Jeff saved my life.
He walked into the room.
I could see the effect she had on him.
He took one look at her and raised his eyebrows.
Dude!
He telegraphed with his eyes.
I know! I telegraphed right back.
“My friend Jeff. “ I announced.
“Andromeda.” She said with a soft smile.
“Lovely name.”
“Gracias.” She replied with a laugh.
“Spanish. That’s sexy.” Jeff said. I glared at him. Why was my brain dead? He was stealing my thunder right in front of me. I picked up her file and pretended like I was going through it.
“Yes it is. “ She said still laughing. “That’s why I learnt it.”
I dropped the file.
“You speak Spanish?” I asked in shock.
She nodded seriously. “Yes I do.” And then she ranted out five quick sentences in Spanish.
Jeff looked at me quickly.
Dude! Dude!
I nodded silently at him. I know dammit. I know!!

For the next 10 minutes she chatted with Jeff talking about herself. She was an aspiring lawyer. Yet to go to law school but done with her University degree. She loved watching Series. She was working in a law firm. She was single. I sat like the dumb idiot I had become unable to say anything. I busied myself with her file. Looking over the gibberish the doctor had written in it. I was beginning to worry that maybe my brief exposure to radio waves had turned me stupid.
The Doctor returned after 10 minutes with her drugs and handed them over to her.
“Thank you.”She said to me.
I nodded my head. We doctors do our best.
She smiled one last time at me and turned to leave the room.
And then I snapped out of it. My daze vanished. In another 15 seconds she would leave the room and I would lose her. Forever. Until she once again got sufficiently beaten by Mosquitoes to warrant another visit to the Hospital. I had to do something.
“So. What happens if I need to call a Lawyer? “I asked.
She stopped at the door and gave me a puzzled look.
“What?”
“What happens if I need to call you?”
I held up her file defensively. As if justifying my right to ask the question.
I needn’t have bothered. She smiled at me and walked back to the desk.

And so I got her number.
We both swapped numbers. I gave here mine and saved hers.
The doctor smiled after Andromeda left. She and Jeff stared at me with expectant looks.
“What?” I asked wearily.
“What the hell do you mean what?” Jeff snapped. “Dude. You’ve got to call her man.”
“No.” I said.
“Why not.” Jeff asked.
“Because I am not a Doctor.” I said simply.
How come everyone else seemed to be forgetting that little hiccup? Did I have to wear a T-shirt with the words “He is not a Doctor” Before everyone remembered?
I had done enough damage as it was.
Lied for 30 minutes to some gorgeous girl who i didn't know. More or less ruining my chances of getting to know her. Sunday couldn’t get any worse as far I was concerned.
“So you’re just going to give up.” Jeff gasped.
“Yes.”
Jeff scratched his head in confusion.
Seriously? He signaled,still scratching.
“Handle your lice problem.” I said.

Sunday was finally coming to a end.
Earlier on, I had called my sister and recounted my day. At first she had refused to believe me. But after Jeff confirmed my story she called me a cow and hung up.
Family support was always so dependable.
I was seated in a chair watching the Euro finals. Spain was beating Germany which was a good thing. No one seemed to be in support of the Germans. I could relate to that. I was considering turning in for the night when my phone gave a vibe.
It was a short message.

“Are you still in the Clinic? I’ll be returning next week. Hasta Leugo. That’s Spanish. It means I Hope to see you soon. Preferably not as a patient.”

Attached to the message was the ID of the sender.
Andromeda.

Again Memory fails me on what happened afterwards.
The following is what I seem to remember.
I gasped in shock at the text message. I think I sat down. Over my heads dark clouds gathered, darkening the room further. The ceiling seemed to grow higher leaving me feeling incredibly small. In the Back ground some clown started playing with a fiddle. Some comic western jig. I was glad someone found it funny.
Directly opposite me my phone vibrated on the table in tune with the music.
I had been with the phone long enough to understand its mood and what it was trying to tell me.
Its light flashed a merry white and Blue.
Dude!! My phone said.