The Return of the Visitor

I cannot vividly remember the last time it visited. I think I was still in Secondary school then; basking in the flamboyance of my teenage pride (that was just to challenge Wole Soyinka, hehehe…). The visit was however short-lived as I managed to get a hold of it and overpower it’s disgraceful intent; knocking it out flat in the opening rounds (it was not aware of my Mohammed Alistic butterfly skills). It left angry, I saw the anger on its texture before pushing down it with large buckets of water to its rightful position. How it managed not to stay there, I can’t tell. 10 years later it returned, with so much fury. I never knew it still harbored that rage and wicked revengeful thoughts, waiting patiently for the opportunity to strike back – and the opportunity did come! This time its attack was stronger, leaving no room for failure on its part; its sting was bitter, carrying so much force. My skills were nowhere to be found – you wouldn’t blame me though, I had past my prime. Did it succeed then? – You would find out soon…

I had gone to the market (sorry, boutique) one sunny after to update my wardrobe with the latest fashion trend. After spending about 2 hrs going through about 10 boutiques and spending about N1.5 million (I can see your mouths open in disbelief – that was intended), I proceeded to return home. My hands were full and I was happy with my lot. Then suddenly…

I initially thought it was some homeostatic problems, brushing it off with a whiff of my small bony fingers which unconsciously struck the ‘warever’ pose – my girlfriend taught me how to do that. But it was no ruse, the attack was real and it was happening fast. I dodged its first sting, gulped some saliva, ran to the bus stop and quickly hopped onto a ‘molue’ (my wife took the car to see her parents – just so you know that I have a car). I searched for a seat at the back where I hoped that its preying eyes would not find me, but I lied…

As I sat down, I prayed quietly – the same way Hannah prayed in the Bible. In fact, I had never been so sincere in my prayers before, the way I was that day. You would not believe that I had to confess to God about my illicit affair – something he was not aware of. I knew that my prayers were working when I noticed that the bus was getting filled very quickly and this was unusual. We started the journey home in the packed ‘molue’, filled to the brim with diverse persons. I was lucky to have a curvy babe standing in front of me, with her butts staring and even daring me. But it was good luck on a bad day; I couldn’t react for fear of being discovered by the unwanted visitor. Oh, I forgot to say that it got on the bus with me but had not sighted me yet. My lovely “John” (if you don’t know what this means, then you are a child of God – hehe), who, in its elements would have sneaked to take a peek at the deliciously questioning butts from the side of my boxer brief lay quiet and even shivered inwards, unsure of what its actions could cause for both him and myself. Each gallop of the molue caused the butts to jiggle and I cursed my luck that day.

The bus moved on with top speed – speed influenced by my prayers. If this revengeful visitor could be defeated, then it must be on home soil. Nothing less! I continued with my prayers when the ‘unwishable’ happened – it discovered me. I noticed its preying eyes on me when I felt two heavy jolts, descriptive of its battle style, and a quick jab that was capable of embarrassing someone if adequate pressure was not applied to the spot of the attack. I was powerless and could do nothing but tighten my muscles and hardened my facial expression – I could not afford to cry neither could I afford to let it out. The bus was airy as a result of the speed but I was sweating; each gallop along the way was an opportunity to attack, rendering my tightened muscles almost useless. I nearly cried. The curvy lady worsened matters, jiggling her butt at every compensated gallopy attack. I began to wish she had no butts!

Some few meters to my busstop however, the devil struck; we met heavy traffic. I looked through the window and discovered that the traffic was massive. “This cannot be”, I murmured! In that moment I felt another jolt that threw me off balance. I lost control, allowing it to gain some victory before retightening my muscles. I knew if I stayed in that traffic, I would loose the battle (as it was getting tense) and then disgrace myself, my family and my village. I looked again through the window, and then from Jupiter came the most radical escape thought – jump! Without thinking thrice, I threw my body, covered with battle field sweat out of the “molue’s” broken window, landed miraculously on my shaky feet and picked up the fastest race of my life. At that point passersby started to think I was mad and gladly gave way for me to run through the mad human traffic that had also accumulated at the busstop. I could however not wait to show my gratitude, time was of the essence!

I got to a point and flagged down a bike. “Oga na N500” he responded after getting my destination. “Exploiting Bastard!!!” I screamed in my mind; he must have observed my condition. “No problem” I responded, “just be very fast; overtake anything that prevents you from getting to my busstop in 5 minutes. The bike driver smiled – “Go fast” is the worst instruction you can give a drunk motorcycle driver. It is usually an opportunity for them to test the theory that judgment might not come after death.

“Oga no problem, we go reach now now!” he assured me, through his open rotten incisors that reeked of metabolized liquor (I think I just challenged Hon. Patrick Obiagbon – lol…). I reminded him to be careful though; as I needed to be alive to recount the experience.

In ten minutes we were at the bus stop that led to my house. It was an uncomfortable ride as I sat on the bike with left buttocks lifted to create a 30 degrees cushion. This was necessary if I was to survive the ten minutes ride. There were also gallops on the way that provided opportunities for the visitor to throw quick punches which unfortunately, I had to absorb. There was no jiggling butts to keep me company this time.

“Aboki, abeg take me to my house, it’s just around the corner” I pleaded as I knew that I might not survive a 5 mins walk from the bus stop to my house. “Oga that na extra N100” he responded with glee. “Just go” I ordered irrationally. I had resolved that I could not be disgraced. In seconds we were at my place. I jumped down from the bike, paid him and ran to mama Ifeanyi’s shop.

“Mama Ifeanyi” I shouted “abeg give me tissue paper” (If you still don’t know the visitor by now, I may be forced to wonder how you passed WAEC in school). “I dey come” she responded sluggishly, not understanding that I was about to die! As she stood up to bring the tissue, I received perhaps the biggest sting from the visitor. “Jesus” I shouted (or screamed) and ran with blazing speed while tightening the grip on my rectum. People around were shocked, and thought I had been spiritually attacked. And they were right; it was spiritual! I ran into my compound and straight to the public toilets, the first two were were occupied. I cursed as I ran to the last one – “O Lord, why did you create public toilets!”. Luckily, it was empty. I jumped in, balanced and released the pressure, thinking I had won again.

To my surprise however, the visitor had become wiser – nothing came out except some loud noisy farts that shook the foundations of the toilet building. I eased up and then pushed again like some pregnant woman but more farts come out and then some ‘consolating, orgasmic urine. (you know those kind of urine that feels like orgasm – stop pretending, you’ve felt it before). After a 10 minutes bout, I jumped up, looked at the toilet bowl and was amazed by the pea size (about 3 of them) nonsense staring at me. I ran out of the toilet in anger, hoping to get the bike man by any chance and retrieve some of the cash he extorted from me. But I was unlucky.

I stood outside, thinking of the stress I had gone through and then decided to laugh it off. I was still laughing when I remembered something…

I had left all the items I bought at the “molue”! My laughter slowly turned to small sobs…

PS: This is a real life encounter. The comments in brackets were just me trying to be mischievious and unnecessarily sarcastic…



13 thoughts on “The Return of the Visitor” by Vikart (@Avictomama)

  1. Hehehehe lemme not give the visitor away

    1. lol. u don’t need to. They should know from the last three paragraphs…

  2. Omg!!! This is downright comical

  3. But the last note there, loosing goods bought 1.5 million Hmmmm na wa o

    1. well… lets say i exaggerated some things sha. :D

  4. kept wondering what visitor was this. when i finally got it, i laughed out loud. If you’ve never been visited by this kind of visitor, come out and swear. very funny and enjoyable read. thanks

    1. Good to know that you enjoyed it! Mission accomplished! :(

  5. hehehhehehehhe! na real visitor o! the part that really intrigue me is dat urine dah feels like orgasm. lol! well done.

    1. @shovey, u never experience that kind urine before? talk true o… :D

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