A few hours to her wedding, Boma gets arrested along with her crazy best friend Jojo. But then Jojo’s mum comes to the rescue, the problem is she also is crazy.
Wanna know how the night will end for Boma on her bachelorette party?
© 2018 BY OCHIDI GRACE
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Somewhere in Wuse, Abuja, Nigeria (A prison cell to be exact).
I’m sure you’re wondering why a girl like me is in a prison cell. Because you know I’m a Christian, educated and properly brought up. Well, before we get to that, let me just say I love books, No, seriously I do. I know it’s totally out of context but I need to say it. I’m a bookworm. I’ve always been known as one. Ever since my mum pushed me out of the little hole between her legs, and she screamed profanities at my dad who was holding her hand in a tight grip in the labor ward while he declared his undying love for her continuously, I’ve been a bookworm. Heck, I’m sure I was reading a book in her belly while she carried me around for nine months.
My name is Boma and I’m twenty-eight years old. My parents are Ijaw which technically makes me one. I have two younger siblings both of which are in the U.S working. My younger brother works for an oil company as an engineer while my younger sis is a pilot. My parents are crazy about them. Who wouldn’t be? The profession they chose is one every parent will be proud of.
I, on the other hand, am a writer. I write scripts for Nollywood. My parents are proud of me, like very proud, they love what I do and I’m glad that they do. I’m the exact image of my dad, but I took the body structure and personalities of my mum. I wear glasses and I have dimples, some people think this is cute, but it isn’t. I hate these dimples. It looks like I have two wells situated on each side of my cheeks. They are so deep, a coin can get lost in them.
However, there’s one person in the whole universe that adores my dimples; my mum. She plays with them whenever I’m close to her by dipping her finger in them. I don’t like it. I don’t like it all, I tell her this but she doesn’t listen. Why? Cause she’s my mum.
Anyway, enough with my family history and the love of my mother for my dimples. I’m here to tell you a story. My story.
But before we begin, why don’t we go back to the beginning, right before the moment I was born.