Today on wahalacentral we have a guest with us bringing you a random conversation betw….oh well maybe a not so random conversation. The Characters herein actually represent real people and yeah this really happened. What? You don’t believe me? Woe unto ye of little faith.
ToothBrush – hayceeee! Ode, wake up.
ToothPaste – Ahn ahn tooty wetin dey worry you ? It’s 3:24 am. Abeg lemme sleep. No dey disturb me.
ToothBrush – Razzite. See your big head like lemme sleep. You never sleep reach?! See as you dey fat. As your belle big so, e never do you ? Wake up wake up. We gats to talk.
ToothPaste – ohmiegarrdd. y u do dis. *stretches* what is it ?
ToothBrush – I can’t sleep.
ToothPaste – ehn? Kindly repeat that please.
ToothBrush – Something dey do you for ear ni? I cannot sleep.
ToothPaste – You must be very stupid.
TootbBrush – teepeeeee nauu. You know say I lunv yew. Don’t leave a nigg henging. Ok ok. I wanna make tins right.
ToothPaste – YOU CANNUH MAKE THEM RIGHT, LATER ?! oh gad allow me rest na. I no wan play dis play with you this early mo mo.
ToothBrush – Waka shege. Shey you see why I left you. Oloshi. I hope say big madam throw you away. Idiot. Bornfool.
ToothPaste – You left who ? Eez like you still dey dream.
ToothBrush – But baby I lunv yew
ToothPaste – y dis your love no shift to 6am nau. I wan sleep.
ToothBrush – *Cries* I jos have one question. Jos one quesh.
ToothPaste – okay…
ToothBrush – Can I ask eet ?
ToothPaste – Yes.
ToothBrush – Are you sure ?
ToothPaste – I am sure.
ToothBrush – Are you absolut…
ToothPaste – I can slap you.
ToothBrush – y u dey always fall down from me evryteim madam put you for my borry ? *sobs*
ToothPaste – I don’t understand this your question. Explain further. Osiso!
ToothBrush – before ehn, if big madam presses your borry and put you on me, you used to stay oh. Then we enter her mouth and become one. You know, and do the uhum uhum *clears throat* you know how eet ees na. *winks* but now! *breaks down* once she puts you on my borry, you jos like to dey fall anyhow. y u do dis 😥
ToothPaste – you really wantu know ?
ToothBrush – yez my lolo.
ToothPaste – dun call me dat you idiot. Remember that time wey big madam bring home that other girl? Oral-B abi wetin dem dey call am.
ToothBrush – ehn I remember am.
ToothPaste – she kon mount you, una con enter big madam mouth. Dey do the uhum uhum *clears throat* ah e pain me well well. I jos dey look una. Tooty, you break my heart dat day no be small.
ToothBrush – ah! My lolo. My one en only. You know say na only you I dey like enter madam mouth with. Na only you oh.
ToothPaste – *giggles* ehn I don’t know oh. Did you enjoy doing it with her? No lie to me.
ToothBrush – nna mehn, I no go do am again. She just dey do anyhow for my borry. I no like am at all at all. Na only you I like. Aswerugad. Na only you.
ToothPaste – ehen. say my name say my name, like no one ees around yew, say baby I lunv yew.
ToothBrush – my lolo number wan number wan. Close up. Up en personal. *winks* luffu wan tin tin. You don forgive me? *slides to her*
ToothPaste – *side eye* no dey tosh me oh. I still dey ves small.
ToothBrush – forgive me na. you know say na only me dey do you wella.
ToothPaste – *blushes* yez yez. You no go sing for me?
ToothBrush – you are my african quee. Gal of mai drimzz. You take me… *The bed creaks… – Ewo e be like say madam don wake up oh.
ToothPaste – shh shh! *Madam enters bathroom. She soliloquies, “I could have sworn heard voices. I’m so never eating late again.” She pees and goes back to bed.
ToothBrush – see as hin pee dey smell. kai.
ToothPaste – ode I wan sleep back oh. No disturb me again.
ToothBrush – I lunv yew. TP – ehn.
ToothBrush – you no go say am back?!
ToothPaste – y I go say am back. you wey dey change for me anyhow. Ehn y I go sa…
ToothBrush – My lolo.
ToothPaste – I lunv yew tew.
ToothBrush – *Giggles*
Thanks for stopping by. Shalom
You should probably read Sylvia 1 here
Breaking into unwilling forgetfulness
Unwilling to live or to die
To hang on or let go
Thrust in the path of immortals
With no clue of her humanity
The tears began to flow
Almost like they had a mind of their own
“Say a prayer for me
I don’t want to lose my mind” She whispered.
But you already lost it Sylvia
It’s too late to save you now
You already lost it.
Sylvia’s life was sitting in the Kalahari
Waiting for rain seasons away
She floated through traffic
Looking for oasis
Any signs of green, of vegetation.
Then the sun went down.
And the moon came up
In a gushing feat of enthusiasm Sylvia smiled:
She knocked on his door
He opened the door, ready for a night of wonders,
For he knew it was one laden with miracles.
She stabbed him.
I see them
Little girls in the distance
With fathers inept at fathering,
Mothers inept at mothering,
And a whole generation that has lost to the science of parenting.
She weeps, sulks, drains my cloth
But no imbanu, I do not hear
She does so in hushed tones
And in frequencies less than decibel.
She bruised her knee yesterday
But no, you were not here
But I was so, I fixed her up
Bandaged her wounds and applied first-aid
She’s fine now, thanks for asking.
Do you know she goes mad on Sunday nights?
With this insatiable lust for blood?
It’s impossible to satisfy
Sometimes I’m scared for her health
I feel like all this physical exertion will get to her.
I think she should join the army,
Or maybe I should buy her candy.
Yes it always pacifies her.
Last night she was scared
The rains poured down in horrible droppings
She was of dual mind
As to whether they would cleanse or judge her,
So she stayed in and never found out.
She wailed oh she wailed,
Making it impossible to sleep.
I couldn’t sleep
‘Everything will be alright’ I said
I am the darkness
I am your friend
I will be here when no one else will
In me you will see you
I will reflect you.
And then I made the rain tears of joy
I made the thunder call out her name
“See? Now you have friends. Do not be afraid. Come let us sleep”
She slept like a child in my arms,
Right now as I look upon her face,
All I can ask is love, where are you?
The third and and final part of this poem comes up on Monday. Make it a date with us will ya? Follow the blog on twitter or subscribe. Have a wonderful week. Shalom.
I glance at her through the window bars, this sixteen-year-old. I steal another stealthy glance just to be gun-to-the-head sure it’s this same sixteen-year-old they talk about. Perhaps the rumours are wrong? They must be! It can’t be this sixteen-year-old! It’s called rumour for a reason. Well…this is a little bit above mere rumour, but you can never be too sure with these things.
Rumour has it this twenty-first century sixteen-year-old has ambitions of breaking Seyi Kolade‘s (Google is your friend) enviable record of shaboinks (Google that too). Folks say that this sixteen-year-old has more boneyard experience than all the Vatican nuns combined. Reports also indicate she was inspired by Nike’s Just Do It campaign. Okay that last part was made up, but you get the picture, right?
Folks respect this sixteen-year-old because of her enduring consistency. She is said to keep her Creaking Bed Syndrome within the brotherhood (picture ancient Roman soldiers sharing spoils of war). This sixteen-year-old jelly-rolls from one hepped-up brother to the next, so much that she puts the word ‘free’ to shame. All a brother got to do to subscribe to this sixteen-year-old’s benevolence is the romantic offer of roasted maize and sweet nothings. Do this, and pats on the back will welcome you into the brotherhood: you instantly get to do the four-legged fox trot.
This sixteen-year-old is so popular in the brotherhood that they share their conquest tales over cheap gin bottles. There’s even an official queue for this freegiving meat-headed sixteen-year-old. Chlamydia, warts, scabies, trichomoniasis all rejoice at their imminent future partnership with this baby-faced sixteen-year-old. Folks that can’t keep up are envious of this sixteen-year-old’s charity. They’ve even got a song for her:
“For she’s a jolly good shagger…
For she’s a jolly good shagger…”
The jealous bunch! They have asked amongst themselves reasons why this sixteen-year-old is so in demand among airhead brothers. They’ve wondered why she literally goes weak in the knees at the glint of an unwrapped lollipop. They have jealously queried why this sixteen-year-old jelly-rolls like it is going into extinction.
The horned devil has been the fall guy to many human mis-steps that he must already have an automated laugh for everytime he gets the blame for something (and that must be quite often). Civilisation, which by default gets blamed on the west, is another entry on the blame list. Upbringing is next in the firing line as parents are most times rightly (or wrongly) put on the chopping block. This sixteen-year-old comes last on the blame game of a million referees. This nosy writer would not know where to start. In fact, this piece of nosy, jealous post contributes to the sixteen-year-old’s problems. This repentant sinner will therefore not ride on his moral high horse. Or has he mounted it already?
A last furtive glance isn’t so successful as the sixteen-year-old stares back this time. This staring contest is quickly broken so as not to fall under the wily machinations of this happy-go-lucky sixteen-year-old. Like the Igbo brothers I don’t have will say, “Tufiakwa!”
Our sixteen-year-old starts to fall from sight and in no time, dreamily floats into the arms of another willful brother with uncanny intelligence. This sixteen-year-old lives beside you. She’s the one for the future. She’s the one to watch. Our delectable twenty-first century sixteen-year-old.
You can follow us on twitter @wahalacentral. Thanks for stopping by. Shalom.
Sylvia is humble
Sylvia is meek
Sylvia will fuck you up
That’s what he said.
Random Man: Sorry dear/
You are not well/
In the head/
You scare me/
Give me chills/
I cannot explain
I do not want to be with you/
Sylvia: Really? Buhahahahahahahaha
Random Man: I know/
We’ve had sex a couple of times/
It was fun while it lasted/
I orgasmed a few times/
You orgasmed a few times/
I admit sometimes I was rusty/
Maybe a little too rough at times/
But you loved it/
It was fun/
I had a blast/
But I’m over it now/
I’m over you/
Say something please/
Sylvia: Bye Bitch.
Gong through the notions
Of death and of death
Of hell and pearly gates
Of dungeons and dragons
See the white in the black
On the footsteps to hell
Building blocks to Nirvana
Looking through the canvas
Mesmerizing isn’t it?
The difference between what was,
What could have been,
What is and
What could be?
What had she done wrong?
She did everything right I say
Right in her own eyes
Looking at her beautiful reflection,
Smiling back at her,
She was pissed, oh she was pissed
Looking like it felt nothing
It smiled back her her
She needed it to feel pain,
Or at least look like it was/could
The Bastard bitch,
Hiding on the other side of the mirror
Immune to human emotion,
So she took out a razor blade and cut her lips
It brought her that satisfaction.
To see the blood line her lips
And drip down,
Little by little
Like raindrops on a cold Monday morning
So pure of heart,
And true in intention.
The demon came over her,
She finally recognized the beast she saw in the mirror.
Medusa would be proud.
She set out
Like the beast of the night
On a mission of….
What say we relax.
What is a crime of passion..
But a call for help..
What is a call for help..
But a lost cause.
Hay people, we are starting a poem/prose series on wahalacentral today, the posts will come up on mondays, do make it a date with us. Remember to nominate us in the Nigerian Blog awards here. Shalom and have wonderful week will ya?
*inspired by a random BBM broadcast*
See guys, when the bible said that the Lord is swift in justice it wasn’t kidding. Mehn the bible wasn’t kidding at all. I was barely dead before my soul was switched sharply to another plane… Just imagine that Knight bus on Harry Potter and multiply the speed by a million. That was how far the boat was.
Saying that I arrived at the crossroad rattled would be an understatement. I arrived air sick, wobbly and puking. Well the gate man or whatever he is was kind enough to allow me a few minutes to recuperate before pointedly urging me to continue my journey.
Like I said I was at a crossroad, so I asked the dude which way to heaven. if I wasn’t so focused on getting to the pearly gates I would have noticed his heavily sarcastic laughter as he pointed me in the right direction and wished me bon voyagè…… Err, his laughter was even more scornful by the time I trekked back to the crossroad, this time to begin my journey to hell. Do I need to tell you that I was bounced outta heaven faster than a colored dude at a whites only restaurant in apartheid South Africa??
Well I got to hell and was pleasantly surprised. This isn’t as bad as the bible made it out to be…. Mehn this no even bad reach half as Mountain of Fire and Deeper life people dey use instill fear into our subconscious.
You could say I was kinda a VIP in hell because Lucifer himself came to welcome me and give me the grand tour. Talk about Swag.
“You see my dear man. I’ve looked through your deeds while alive and I must say I’m very impressed” this was Satan talking to me oh..
“Based on your preceding reputation, I’m gonna let you make the choice on where to spend your eternal damnation. We’ve got 4 special halls for VIPs such as yourself, walk with me niggah”
As if i could refuse? I walked with the dude.
We entered the first room, which was done up in the 70’s Discothèque motif, with a bunch of people with huge afros and bell bottom pants. This so wasn’t my style so I shook my head at my new friend ‘cifer. From the huge smile on his face I could tell he was proud of my decision.
We then strolled through the revolving doors into the next room. Things were beginning to get interesting. Rap bars thundered through the hall as everybody gathered around the stage. I think I caught a glimpse of Tupac performing….. Not too sure though. I was excited, the third room was definitely gonna be hotter than this. I could discern a trend here.
We moved through a shockingly pink door into the third room and I was grossly disappointed. The room was filled with faggots gyrating to Justin Bieber’s Boyfriend song. Well… That explains the door. On to the next one.
The next one was Nirvana!! The room was cloudy with kush smoke, I immediately recognized the hard hitting flows of Dagrin Gboro even as I shouted in glee. This was home. Surely this was home.
A scantily clad waitress brought me a bottle of Alomo which I took a gulp of as I surveyed my home for the rest of eternity.
“I take it we have a winner?” Lucifer asked me. I had even forgot that he was there with me. Hell yeah we have a winner. A snap of his wrist and a demon appeared with the papers which I signed with my blood and I was good to go.
“Best of luck dude, see you around” with those words Mr D and his sidekick disappeared with a puff of smoke.
It was time to plan my attack on this hall, I could already see a lot of semi-nude girls dancing and strolling around. And they said hell was gonna be you know….. Hell. Well fuck all of them!!
I had barely taken a third sip of my Alomo before a very huge demon appear outta thin air ringing a deafening bell.
“Break’s over people, take your normal positions”
I still didn’t comprehend as I watched everybody back flipping and standing with their heads on the hard concrete floor. It only began to dawn on me as huge heaps and mounds of human waste… Yes, shit mysteriously began to ooze out of the floor and surround their heads.
You can say I got the message when the demon advanced on me menacingly with a red hot poker. I had no other choice than to take the normal position also.
You see my guys, Hell is in fact… Hell.
Guest Post By Azazel.
All images are courtesy of Google. Please subscribe to the blog and/or follow us on twitter. And Oh don’t forget to nominate us at the Nigerian Blog Awards here. Shalom folks.
Ok, you’ve read the title, and before y’all start bitching and complaining and screaming “Nooooooo!!!!!!” I just want to let you know that this isn’t some emo poem about going insane with subtle hints at suicide. No. I don’t do that shit (no offense to those that do write those kinds of things, some of them are actually friends of mine). This is just something that occurred to me and I decided to share it on this blog. Now, when I say “voices in my head” I don’t mean I’m schizophrenic or anything or have multiple personalities. I don’t have conversations or debates with these voices and I’m (probably) not crazy. These voices are just interpretations of my own thoughts that guide my behaviour. Most people have voices in their heads as well, or at least some kind equivalent. So…yeah, this is NOT about schizophrenia, so let’s get into it.
The first voice I have in my head is one that we’re all familiar with. Y’all probably refer to it as your conscience, but I refer to mine as “The Bro”. I call him that because he acts kind of like how an older brother should. Or like that one friend that is an actual good influence in your life. And also because, in my head, when he speaks he refers to me as “bro”. He basically gives me moral advice and keeps me honest. I want to do something bad and his voice chimes in in my head and he’s like, “Hey bro, common, don’t do that, you’re better than that” and then I feel guilty and then I don’t do it (most of the time anyway, Sometimes I tie him up, gag him and throw him into a mental cell). Like when I was in school and wanted to apply a 500% mark-up on my school fees (like we all do) and The Bro would just be like “Really bro? Nah, don’t do that, common. He’s your dad. He deserves to be treated better, and you know it.” And then I’d lose my nerve and be broke for a while (stupid Bro). Or I’ll be in a poorly lit shop, with the attendant’s back turned and I’ll be about to reach for that can of deodorant and he’ll pop in and launch into a speech about how stealing is wrong, and then I’ll sigh, pick up the can…and call the attendant’s attention and pay for the damn thing. While The Bro seems like a gigantic killjoy and prude, he actually gives good advice and has kept me out of trouble in the past, so if you have someone like this in your head, try to listen to him. He’s usually at odds with another resident voice in my head, but I’ll get to that later.
The next vocal resident in my head is the one I call “The Asshole”. I call him that, but he’s really a good guy. He’s probably responsible for a number of successes in my life and also the reason I haven’t accidentally killed myself in some ridiculous way. He is essentially the voice of common sense and motivation, but in my head, he does it in such a condescending and sarcastic way that I’m just like “what an asshole!” He usually says things like, “Hey! Moron! Are you seriously going to use a metal fork to remove bread from the toaster? While it’s still plugged in? Without rubber gloves? Are you f**king retarded? Do you want to die?” Then I’d realize what I’m doing and stop. He’s the one I hear in the morning when I want to sleep more and he’ll be like “Oi! Lazy McSlothful! Get the hell out of bed right now! You have shit to do and I’m not about to let you get fired from work and start bitching about how hard life is, so get the f**k up!!!” Yeah, he swears a lot, and he shouts a lot too. He helped me get through school. I am lazy as hell and he motivated me to study. He’d be like “Oh? You’re still playing pokemon in bed, even though exams are coming up? Ok, that’s fine. It’s not like your parents are spending a lot of money to send you to school right? And there is absolutely nothing wrong with becoming a bus conductor. Quick question, will you be collecting money before or during the trip?” See what I mean? He’s a sarcastic bastard, but he’s effective. If you have a voice like this, listen to him.
Finally, we have “The Evil”. Dramatic, I know. But the name explains him nicely. He’s the dude that suggests that I do some really dark stuff. He’s the one that’s usually at odds with The Bro. He could be like “pssst, hey, look, this dude doesn’t like you, so why don’t you get him addicted to codeine? Crush a few tablets and sprinkle it in his food for a few days. You’re a pharmacist right? So you have access to the tablets, and you know where he keeps his food at work. Do it. It’ll be hilarious!” One day, one of these guys on roller skates that sometimes latch unto buses was holding on to a bus I was in, taggging along. The Evil chimed in like “pssst hey, he’s holding the door frame. Why don’t you just slam the door shut? It’s not like a bus should move around with the door slightly open, and it’s not your fault if his fingers get shut in the door, and he loses his balance, falls and gets crushed by the vehicle behind. He probably shouldn’t even be doing this anyway. He just wants to show off his skating skills. It’ll serve him right, and no one could trace it back to you.” He’s a nasty one. He usually uses logic to justify the crap he tells me to do. Now, having this kind of voice in your head doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human. You’re only a bad person when you listen to him, which I don’t…mostly. But if you have a voice like this in your head, please ignore it. It will land you in jail or in a graveyard.
So, yeah. Those are the voices that bounce around my mind. I had fun writing this, but I’m beginning to doubt what I said earlier about being schizophrenic….
Thanks for reading.
Sent in by the amazing @Ventus_91
Please remember to nominate wahalacentral at the Nigerian Blog awards here for any category(ies) you deem fit. Thanks for your time. Shalom.