Femi sat in his office chair reminiscing over the football match played yesterday.
The match had begun with Barcelona dominating about 70% of the ball possession in the first twenty minutes through their usual style of tiki-tika but each time they had tried to get into their opponent’s box, they had faced strong restriction from Madrid defender Sergio Ramos.
In the fortieth minute, Messi had caught a loose ball and raced into the opponents box after he had successfully dribbled Sergio, he had scored a goal giving Barca the upper hand.
Minutes later, Bale hit the woodwork, the match had ended in the first half with the scores reading 1-0.
During the second half, Madrid had made three changes, Isco had come in for Di maria, Morata came in for Benzema and Pepe had replaced Sergio Ramos.
The game had continued with both sides hitting the woodwork twice but Ronaldo had broken the dead luck after receiving a through pass from Isco, he had then dribbled the keeper and scored a goal.
Ten seconds to the end of the match, Ronaldo gave a right-footed strike which had hit the woodwork. The referee had then blown the final whistle signaling the end of the match which had ended in a draw.
He and Chuks had then left for their apartment when few guys at the viewing centre had ended up fighting over a bet they had.
He took out his phone and logged into facebook chat, he scrolled down to see if he could find a familiar name. He saw a name that caught his attention.
He chose to ignore it and kept on scrolling, there was nobody to chat with, he was about to close the app when his phone beeped.
Omoye stood and stared at her one-room apartment, her brain cells had not been able to profer a solution to her predicament.
The only offer that had been screaming in her head were two words, ‘Move out’.
Mrs Nkem Onyekwere packed her bags, she had woken up unusually late. Had she woken earlier, her husband Francis could have given her a ride to work.
She came out of her room, on getting to the hallway she saw Chuks coming out of the bathroom.
“Mum, good morning,” he greeted.
“Morning dear, how are you? And how was your interview yesterday,” she paused and continued almost immediately, “what time did your father leave?”
“Mummy, how many questions,” he laughed, “and later you’ll claim daddy talks too much.”
“Don’t mind me, I’m in a hurry and your father talks more than I do, you can testify to that.” She replied.
“Well I’m fine, interview was okay, I hope something good comes out of it, and daddy left say ermm, one hour thirty minutes ago. He said you complained of a slight headache yesterday and as such he didn’t want to disturb your sleep.”
Nkem flushed, “that’s sweet of him, and don’t worry about a job, God has big plans for my baby, did your father get to eat? She asked with a concerned look.
“Yes, Princess made breakfast.”
“Where is she?”
“In the sitting room.”
“Ok, take care. I’ll see you when I get back.” She got to the sitting room and saw a food flask placed on the dinning table.
“My baby, does this happen to be mine?”
Princess stood and ran to her mum while giving her a hug, she had missed her. When her mother got back yesterday she had been asleep and her mum had woken late this morning so they had not seen each other.
“Mummy, good morning.” she smiled.
“How are you?” Nkem pulled out of the embrace and gave her daughter a thorough look, “you’ve grown bigger, hmmm look at your curves.”
Princess gave her mum a ‘don’t start’ look. Nkem however continued, “why don’t you switch back to wearing dresses?” she touched Princess bossoms playfully, “ifu la? Ibu kwa nwanyi oooo (you see? You’re a woman oooo), why are you hiding all these?”
Princess sighed, she did not want the discussion to proceed any further. She took the flask and passed it to her mum, “here, if you keep talking, you are going to run late.”
“Like I’m not already late, uhn?” Nkem collected the flask and kept it in one of the bags she held. “Take care of the house, and thanks for making breakfast.”
With that she left, Princess went back to the settee to continue the movie she had been watching, it was getting boring already.
“Won’t you give me my phone?” she turned to see Chuks approaching her bare-chested.
“Get some clothes on jaweee, see all the chest hair sef,” she said and hissed.
“Listen to yourself, you didn’t notice my packs, na only the hair you see?” he asked while settling beside her on the settee.
“That’s because it’s disgusting.”
“Yeah right, headlines sis, girls totally dig this, the hair, the packs, the face, the voice, everything,” he said while using his hands to demonstrate.
Princess laughed, “wait so you think you are handsome abiii? Uncle Chimezie beats you to it.”
Both started laughing, the face of their uncle was enough to send a new born baby back to his mother’s womb.
The man had a big head, he was bald, had hairs in both ears, had a moustache and beard with three different colours; black, white, grey. To worsen matters, he had a very huge nose and was lacking in the height department.
“Princess chai! Why are you insulting uncle now?” Chuks asked while still laughing.
“I didn’t say anything, simply said he is handsomer.”
“If I hear, with that nose which occupies almost two-third of his face.”
“Ah! Chuks, let daddy come back, I’ll report you.” she replied. She had forgotten about the movie she had been watching, she took the remote and switched the television off.
“Why?” Chuks inquired.
“Its boring jaweee,” she turned towards his direction wearing the expression of a sober professional, “so you came for your phone right?” she asked.
“Madam, whats with the look?”
She raised her eyebrows, “you need your phone or what?”
“Sorry Ma, I do,” Chuks replied while trying to hide his smile.
“So you just want me to give you, you don’t even care how much stress I went through sef.”
“What even happened?” he asked, he was on his way home when he discovered he could not find his phone. He had dialled his number from a call centre only for Princess to pick.
“You want to know?” Princess asked, “Okay I’ll tell you.”
“Last class, I instructed you all to write an article on self-ionization of water but some dumb students simply copied the entire article from wikipedia.” The lecturer stopped and brought out a folded piece of paper from his folder.
“Who is Jembete Poyinmaya?” He asked with a stern look on his face. The entire class broke into laughter.
Ore nudged Dami, “what’s wrong?” he asked, “everybody is laughing and you are wearing a look that is only found in funerals.”
She hissed out of frustration, “I’m just tired, thanks for your concern though.”
“Order.” Professor Jakeilaye shouted, “why are you acting like animals, I asked a question and all I get as a reply is laughter and silly murmurings.”
“Class governor,” he continued, “come with whoever this person is to my office. I want to know who is so silly as to dub from wikipedia and even include wikipedia’s references and external links, as if that wasn’t silly enough. The i.diot equally wrote ‘Read in another language’ in his article.”
The students laughed silently, no body wanted to be the scape goat, they would rather prefer Jembe receiving his punishment. The guy was synonymous with trouble and stupidity.
Dami hissed, “Read in another language? Like seriously?” she laughed.
“Do you realise you’ve been hissing too much?” Ore asked.
The sound of students packing their bags and exiting the class disrupted their discussion.
“I think the lecturer already left, I didn’t even notice.” Dami said while putting her pen in her bag.
“That’s because you have something bothering you, mind sharing?” he asked with obvious concern etched on his face.
“Awww, somebody is being a good friend, thanks but I’m fine. Okay I’m not really fine but I’ll be.”
Ore gave her a ‘are you sure’ look.
They stood and walked out of the lecture theatre.
On the way to their hostels, Ore kept trying to bring up conversations but gave up when he realised he was fighting a losing battle.
When Dami got to her room, she lay on her bed thinking of a way to solve her predicament.
There was only one name which came to mind, Tinu.