Hey guys, I made a mess of this the first time. Took your corrections and went back to re-do it. I hope this is better. I look forward to your constructive critisms and corrections
So I had a really bad day. After burning my inferior but expensive Brazilian hair with candle flames in the name of study, the exam was nothing to write home about. I left the exam hall with gross dissatisfaction. I had two problems (i)hunger (ii) anger directed at the examiners.
Some lecturers are really wicked. My lecturer is. This man imported questions from Toronto. He forgot that back here in Nigeria we read textbooks written by Mr. Amadi who studied in one of our quack universities while Toronto pupils read texts by Theraja Theraja who studied in the great university of India. I would love to smack him behind his head but not as much as I would like to destroy Jason’s hands. The Jason in question is one of my lecturers who dared to touch me while I was busy writing my exam. This excuse of a man considered the exam hall, where victors are made and failures are named the best place to chyke his student. Thank God for his gift of grace else I would have emmm……not slapped him sha but at least reprimanded him in a way. Slapping him might extend this five years of torture to six or even more which is not in the least desirable.
After the exam I managed to find my way to the hostel, hungry, angry and without a means to solve both or either of the problems. I had just collapsed on my bed when to my detriment Blessing, my beloved roommate came back full to the brim with gist and eager to off load. In spite of my plea that I was in no mood for gisting she insisted on tormenting me with her dry gist.
No choice, I had to listen with zero interest as she feed me with the latest happenings in her boring life.
“Imagine, Mr Amadi asked me to sleep with him”.
Mr Amadi? That was my lecturer’s name. When did Mr Amadi switch departments? She seemed to notice my puzzlement cos she quickly added
“Not that your big headed Mr Amadi joo. my lecturer’s name is also Mr Amadi.”
“Oh! I for say o. So when are you guys doing it or have you slept with him already?”
“Ewu. He said he likes me and has had his eyes on me for a while now, and that I shouldn’t be stressing myself with reading his course as he is ready to give me an ‘A’ after he beds me.”
The infamous story. It was on the lip of almost every female student in the university. My lecturer had said so to me too, the likes of Jason. Why was she so bent on worsening my already bad day eh? I was tired, hungry and angry, the last thing I wanted to listen to was Blessing talk about her upcoming ‘mingling event’ with an old irritating lecturer. I really needed to catch some sleep or some food. I tossed on my bed considering the best way to shut her up. Maybe a slap would do, my hand had been itching to slap someone for a while now. I took a look at blessing who had paused her story telling in order to receive a phone call from ‘whoever it maybe’. She was huge with muscular arms, arms that told me I stood no chance of survival if I engaged her in a fight. Slapping her was definitely not an option. I prayed the call would continue till I slept off but it did not. She slapped close her flip phone and turned to face me, like we were in a wrestling ring and I was her opponent and not the referee.
“Ehen, as I was saying the old fool wants to sleep with me”
“Sleep with him now”. Its not like she was a virgin or she didn’t do old men. Blessing was a runs girl. She slept with men of all colour, language and age. She wasn’t interested in who they were or what they were. She was only interested in how much they were ready to drop for a night of ecstasy. The question of whether she should or should not sleep with Mr Amadi wasn’t in the least a question. She was going to sleep with him even if Jesus was scheduled to come on the the D-day. She needed the ‘A’ grade to boost her very low GP and the Blessing I knew wasn’t going to throw that life time opportunity into the gutter.
“Ewu”. She christened me again. This time I was up and seriously considering drinking garri to quench my hunger. I did not care if she called me a goat. She was looking for someone to give her a ‘go-ahead’ with Mr Amadi. I gave it to her and phew!….she let me hear word at last. From the corner of my eyes I could tell that she was not so pleased with the way I dismissed her but was happy all the same at my response. Me, I did not care one bit about how she felt, her feelings were irrelevant. She had denied me sleep and rest, had demanded and taken by force my attention. Now it was her turn to fulfill my demands.
“Blessing abeg gimme some cubes of sugar.”