My carrot story 4

My carrot story 4

I am very sorry for leaving this story half way, school has been very tough and I have also been as lazy as lazy can be. I would do my best to complete this series early enough so I can stop boring you with my silly story. Thanks to all that has kept faith in the course, I love all of you.

I could bet the guy was going nuts. Sing? What da hell is he thinking? I have always known that Aanu was crazy, sometimes stupid, other times dumb, but I never knew he could all of these at the same time. How does he expect us to sing? With what voice and with what courage? We all stared at him with that “are-you-shitting-me” face. From the look on Nonso’s face I could bet he wanted to beat the madness out the dummies head.
“How would I live without your smile love…” the frog-like voice of Aanu was already out. Hell! For heavens sake this dummy is going crazy. Who on hells name told him to open his stupid vocal box to sing. Wait sef, this was not singing, this is what we call ‘throating’. Him voice just dey vex my vex the more. As he sang I buried my subconscious in my shame. This boy has killed us. We are not so doing this. I was about to smack him when I heard the sound, kpa! Nonso was on the ground. Before I could turn my thin carrot body to see what was happening, my sight went out,. Kpa! My head got its share of the hit. I was on the ground, breathing hard and struggling to keep my eyes open. But I couldn’t. Darkness! The last thing I saw was Aanu on the ground and two almonds surrounding us.
“What are you carrots doing here?” A throaty voice with so much timbre it shook the foundation of the house. Wait let me explain that I mean by “house”. This place where I found myself and my fellow musketeers sitting with our bodies chained together by a thick rope, this place was too big for almonds to stay. It was a huge room with a table and something that looked like a chair but I am not sure what else to call it. On the walls hung two paintings, finer than the ones our self acclaimed painters in ikorodu call paintings. Two almonds stood gallantly in one of the paintings giving ordes to a slave guava. History has it that one time the almonds had so much power (when I say power I mean super natural powers, aka juju) that they could dominate any fruity nation they so desired. I was still admiring the fine paintings when the throaty voice said again “what are you carrots doing here?” This time he sounded a lot more pissed. I raised my head to see the almond behind those foundation-shaking voice, oh my smokes! Mo ti ku oo, he was mean. With eyes too big for his face, occupying the most part of the small face, his eyes red and angry. He was standing close to the chair. He looked mean. We were at the office of the minister of defense. How I knew? Go figure.


The five huge almonds that fixed that wicked eyes on us was enough to kill me. They were too big for almonds. almost the size of a cucumber, tall and strong.
“We came to see Bolu” he said,HOLY CRAP! OMO YI FE KPA WA(this boy wants to kill us). He couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. Is he so stupid? I go kill am if we commot for here.
“Which Bolu?” the minister asked. My head was trying to do the math, or should I say form the lie, but damn those lies. They don’t come when you so need them. Well it was not their fault, with six angry almond eyes staring at us tearing every piece of our confidence into shreds, lies didn’t stand any chance here.
He moved closer to me, walking with so much majesty I thought for a minute that he was more than a bloody minister. He stood in front of me and bent a bit, with those too-big-for-your-face eyes looking at me, obviously seeing my fear take shape, he asked me “what da hell are you filthy carrots doing here?”. I wanted to spit at him for calling us filthy (even though I am not a patriotic carrot, sometimes my mind goes nuts with ideas) but another silly part of me wanted to laugh out loud. Those eyes. Seeing them from a closer range I could bet he didn’t get that when he was born, too big! Who uses such eyes theses days? I suppressed the laughter but I guess not well enough because another tuwai! Was what my face experienced. My lips obviously gave my stupid thoughts away.

3 thoughts on “My carrot story 4” by oxymorontalks (@oxymoron93)

  1. Hmmm, following
    and kindly reading
    through the funny series
    laughing and laughing out loud

    1. oxymorontalks (@oxymoron93)

      thanks for dropping by sir. i don miss u die

  2. So the carrots are Yoruba.

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