The idiot stepped on my foot. He really did!
I was going to ignore it but for the fact that I knew that he knew he had stepped on my foot.
“Excuse me!” I called out.
He was still striding forward.
I lengthened my steps and pulled at his shirt. Dude was dressed expensive, smelling of money. I know his kind. The Armani shirts and the Weil watch, he wanted it, Daddy probably got it, and then he stunts like he got it all by his lonesome. Right.
I know I can be such a drama kid at times but really, I have been playing the weak, downtrodden role for a quite a while now so I am enjoying this, you know, getting back in touch with my bitchy side. And he did step on my foot without apologizing!
I mean, I was coming out of my second class for the day, moving with the crowd of students who were doing the same. Then THUD! Crucial pain inflicted on my poor darling feet which only had a pair of flip-flops for protection!
I saw the culprit look back at me, look at my feet BUT he just kept on walking.
He was outside now. I pulled on his shirt just in time. He turned around, surprise on his face.
“Dude, you stepped on my foot,” I said coldly.
“Dude?” He raised an eyebrow.
Okay, so this dude was fine. Like…fine. Like…like…words fail me. It’s too bad that nothing eats away at beauty faster than arrogance. Oh, who am I kidding?
“You…stepped…on…my…feet.” I enunciated for him as though he was a toddler. I mean, only toddlers behaved this way, really.
“So?” He said.
That left me speechless.
“So?!” I stared at him.
“I want to take it your mom left out the part about manners?” Bitch mode.
“I’d rather take it that your mom did.”
He stepped on my foot. Was he mad?
I shook my head and said, “you are a capital idiot.”
I began walking away.
“They have a name for people like you where I come from.” I heard him say as I walked on. The sheer fucking nerve…
“Iya e!” I shouted back. Be damned if he understood that but that was how pissed I was.
“Oh, crap! You are Nigerian!” He laughed.
That stopped me cold in my tracks. I turned and looked at him skeptically.
“Paddy.” He smiled what I am sure he thought was his winning smile. Ode.
I eyed him as he waited expectantly.
He raised an eyebrow.
So I smirked. “And the name they have for people like me where you come from would be?”
He laughed. “Hey, no hard feelings! You know the bad-day syndrome!”
Dude really thought I was going to let him off really easy simply because we happened to come from the same old beloved Nigeria.
“Anyway, there is a name for people like you back where we both come from. Omo ale ni e. Have a nice day.”
Okay, so I did not have to call him a bastard but really, is that how he was brought up to treat women? Whether or not he was brought up here (his accent was impeccable, none of that futile struggling to force words through the nose that some of our foolish people are wont to die trying to do), any sensible Nigerian mother tries to ingrain in her son the utmost respect for women. Chivalry is not yet dead, no matter what people say.
So well, with that, I turned on my heels and walked off. Okay, so no heels. Flip-flops but you get the painted picture.
He did not call after me, but I’d like to take it that he didn’t know what name to call me back with! Plus, I would not have stopped anyway…I don’t think I would have. Shame, fineness really is good for nothing!
Michael called me around seven to check if I wanted to work on our homework over a round of Chinese and fags. Another make-out session, yay! We managed to get at least half of our homework done before we…well, sought loftier pleasures!
Dunni called me shortly after he had left, about eleven-ish.
“What’s up?” I asked when I had depressed the green “TALK” button on my landline.
“Nothing, really. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, homework. This and that,” I told her.
I sure wasn’t about to tell her about Michael just yet.
“Anyhow, what are you doing Wednesday evening at five?”
Oh God, here we go again. Welcome to another round of Dunni trying to trap me into going for one of the events hosted by the African Students Association on campus. I didn’t think so!
“Five? I am not sure.” I hedged. “What’s going on?”
“We have this speaker coming in for our first meeting this semester and…”
I tuned out, then tuned back in as she asked, “…so you’ll come?”
“I-um- I am not sure. I have…”
“Noooo!” She whined. “You never ever come out to any of our events and I know you’re done with classes at two on Wednesday.”
“There’s a project due…”
“You have a project due already? Which class?”
God, why didn’t you add the gift of lies to my many shady talents?!
“Okay, okay. Five, you said?”
“I love you!!!” She screeched.
“Meanwhile, Yomi’s been bugging me about you,” she said.
I rolled my eyes.
“You haven’t been picking up his calls, have you? He’s worried. I asked him what he did but he said he couldn’t remember saying or doing anything.”
Yea, selective Alzheimer’s. My people, my people, it is real.
“Yomi is tripping,” I told her. “Ignore him.”
“He seems real upset about whatever it is that happened, I think you should talk to him and…”
“Oh, Dunni, my mom’s calling me on my cell phone. Let me call you right back!”
Okay, so it was four in the morning in Nigeria but please, I never claimed to be a good liar.
I dropped the phone before she could connect the dots and threw it across the room.
Long day, all that homework and company had worn me out.
I am chuckling now as I think up excuses to give Dunni on Wednesday. She is tripping. Hell will freeze over before I show up at any ASA event this week.
So much trouble in the world now(x3)
All you’ve got to do is give a little
Give a little, give a little
One more time ye-a-h! ye-ah!