Dark Chocolate

Dark Chocolate

This episode is titled “Sour Sweetness” It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life. It was our very first kiss… soft, warm and sensual. It was nothing like I imagined it’d be. The moment our lips touches and her strangled gasp carressed my tongue, I instinctively took it to mean her consent, so I delved in deeper to explore. I tightened my roaming fingers in a gentle lock around her hair, carefully holding back her soft dreadlocks, stroking her scalp with my finger tips. Her response totally blew me away; her manicured fingers grabbing and running freely over my arms and back.  I held her still as my tongue plundered and explored her mouth. She tasted of heaven. I would go to hell, but I did not care. Tonight we both let go, and relish the sensual agreement of our love starved  souls…

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master…”

I had read this somewhere, sometime in another extinct age and as they ran through my subconscious, even Liz Gilbert, would have been proud. I had no more doubts now. Grace was indeed my soul mate and it had taken me 16 months to realize it.

“I loved you for a very long time Pete” She breathed softly in my ears even as she clinged unto my rain-soaked body as if her life depended on it. Then she slowly helped me undress and discarded my wet clothes. I shuddered a bit, I can’t really say if my shivering was a result of walking in the rain that evening or something else. Sensations I’d never felt before coursed through my body and soul. I wondered what might have been if I hadn’t bothered to come by her apartment that night. Thinking of what might have happened was what made me shiver involuntarily.

“I thank my stars o” I thought to myself.

I snapped back to reality, as she dabbed me dry with a big white towel. It smelt of orange lavender, further calming me. I turned to her and watched, admiring her flawless ebony skin as it called out to me. Block out further hesitation, I took a deliberate step closer and she melted in my arms again as I started planting passionate kisses all the way down her shoulder and shine.
From the mini cd player in the background, John Legend wailed “…tonight’s the night, I’m letting go… tonight’s the night we lose control… tonight, I’ll be the best you ever had… “

******

Grace Ude was the very first person I got sincerely friendly with upon admission into The University of Lagos to study Fine Art. Unilag was quite a whole new experience for me. I spent my first few days starring in disbelief at all the people and buildings, walking long distances and admiring the schools various academic structures and environment. There were more young people than I had ever been exposed to at a time (all rushing to and from God knows where). Young ladies and men came in various sizes and shapes. Some walked briskly alone, others sauntered along in groups. I remember a particular guy once strolled past me looking like a circus; he had virtually all the colours of the rainbow in his dress-up, I had to look closely to make sure it wasn’t Wizkid the renowned singer.
Unilag was a confluence of variety, the headquarters of metropolitan fashion and trend and I Peter Agemo did not fit in. As expected, I became a loner. I would go to the lagoon front by myself, to sketch in my drawing pad. The serenity helped. I would let myself be taken by the sight of the sea and let my imagination roam. It was on one of these escapades, that I met Grace.
I had strolled into the park one cool evening to see a dark skinned lady sitting in my favorite spot. She was reading a book out loud to no audience in sight. I couldn’t see what she was reading because she had her back to me. I was standing transfixed about three meters screaming “INTRUDER” inwardly when she suddenly stopped and turned. Beneath those transparent Ray-Ban shades were the largest brown eyes I’d seen and eye lashes as long as her legs, which she crossed nicely. She wasn’t strikingly beautiful but she looked elegant and intelligent.

“Its rude to staaarrre, mister man” she slurred, emphasizing ‘stare’ in a way that amused me.

“That’s my spot Dakore” I almost snapped, but decided to let her be. I turned away, obviously digusted  and was going to look for some other place to curl up. She quickly noticed my intentions and quipped

“Hey, you could come join me if you want; you’re just as thin as me”.

Her silliness made me laugh out loud and face her “I’m not thin, I’m slender”

“Yea, slim… slender, whatever… bring your lepa yansh here” she rolled her eyes in the most comical manner I’d seen and made space for me.

Still intrigued, I reluctantly joined her. She introduced herself as Grace and asked if I had a name, I told her. She asked if I could listen to her read…

“Fine” I said (out of curiosity).

She was a 200 level student studying theater arts which I took mental note of to be an excuse for her talkativeness and crazy hairstyle-dreadlocks.
The familiarity that ensued between us aided familiarity. She was eccentric, loquacious, free-spirited, vibrant, candidly vulgar and surprisingly independent. At 19, her maturity beat mine even though I was a year older. We became friends.

In the weeks that followed, she’d come by my class and whistle noisily from the window to get my attention; less concerned about other students she might be distracting in the process. If I ignored that, she’d call my phone incessantly.

“What is it? Can’t you see I’m in a class?” I’d whisper

“Mister man, its lunch time jor!” She’d cut in.

We never missed lunch time at the SUB cafeteria. The ‘moi-moi’ there was a mutual delight. We had our fair share of fights too. I’d rant, she would counter–rant.

“I hate you” was soon cliched.

She really liked seeing my paintings and she always had something funny to say about them. Always making a fuss, saying she deserved a self-portrait. I was down for it and so we gave it a try a few times, but she’d twitch all the time, and end up cackling like a duck. We’d abandon it midway and I was always to blame for her inability to hold still.

I enjoyed listening to her read and rehearse whatever crazy script they were asked to treat in class.
We didn’t escape the normal campus ridicule and tittle-tattleaimed aimed at couples. Although, she handled well on her own, unlike me. My course mates would be totally idiotic.

“Ol’ boi, where your woman na?”

I’d get tongue-tied and bristly whenever she was referred to as my girlfriend. She had bailed me out of awkward moments on countless situations.

“C’mon you guys give Pete too much credit for balls he doesn’t even have. I be im mama. He nor reach”

And sometimes, “This one? Abegi” and just wave me off.

It’d amaze me how she could say things like that without blinking an eye. Squeezing what little guts I had and squashing any prospect I had been nestling in my mind that we could ever be something  more than friends.

We maintained our typical Tom and Jerry friendship for over a year.
Text message conversation be like:

Me: Morning Gracy. U thr?
Grace: yes
Me: U up already?
Grace: No. I’m sleeping and chatting with you from my dream *rme*
Me: I only asked if u’re up… :/
Grace: Why are you not in school? results are out. Come now, lets go and check.
Me: Jeez!! Pls. I’m with my dad, if you see mine, msg me.
If its bad say “good morning”
If its very bad say “good morning to u and ur dad”
.
.
LATER
Grace: good morning to u, ur family and ur whole Village

I failed terribly. I had taken the borrowed course just to show off,  now I’m done for. Grace… She’d gotten me a course-edit form before I got to school and handed it to me. And a back rub. That was her way of paying her condolences.

I had now come to rely on her very much and vice-versa. We basically shouldered each others weight quite well. I was a good listener and she could talk for Africa! She was bold and fearless. And Her rather instantaneous decisions brought me enough trouble. I still come to her rescue every now and then though.

Like the day I met with her ‘Lagos bigbabe’ sister, Toke. Toke was light skinned and packing. A few contrasting features from Grace’s, but not enough for me to have never guesed they were sisters.
Why? This was the same @misstouchediva. Popular instagram celebrity. 56K followers (ranging from the likes of Honourable Desmond Olusola Elliot to Chris Brizzy! )
“Az in ehn! She sabi pipo. Hiiigh levos!”
I never knew that; Toke,  according to her talkative sister; was the one who constantly broke their fathers heart and was the source of their mother’s high blood pressure.
She came back from the U. K, after spending 5 years of her life doing nothing but living fresh, off Daddy’s money. Dropped out of College, got pregnant and brought back a gorgeous 4 year old child instead. The Jamaican father of the boy just upped and disappeard into thin air, sentencing her back to Lagos – to the fake life of a social media celebrity. Flexing more of Daddys money all over big Lagos parties and other owambe functions.
Although, their dad, a pastor in a leading pentecostal church, didn’t condole her wasteful style. But anytime he complained, she’d threaten to leave and never come back. She did once. Left her son, and went off to South Africa for six months! People said she was with a former Lagos State governorship aspirant. Or, they are just kidding. Who knows.
No one heard from her till she called Grace one evening. We were  together, in the AmphiTheater Hall, where Sovereign Army fellowship had just taken place. Gisting and eating popcorn after the service. That was when her call came in.

Grace: Hello! You’re on to the Saturday night groove. 98.1 Smooth fm. Caller name and where you are calling from?”
She said all these with her mouth full of popcorn. I just shook my head and continud eating.
Toke: Gray Sugar. Don’t scream or tell anybody yet. I just arrived MM now. Please, come get me”
I watched as her eyes eclipsed the Moon and popcorn dropped from her mouth which was agape.
Grace: TOKE!!

That was how I had to call Dele to come and pick us at Unilag Gate and take us to Murtala Mohammed Int’l Airport. He drove a third-hand manual BMW. The car had obviously seen better days, but Dele was the only guy I knew who could have done us that favour on so short a notice.
That was how I met the famous @mstouchediva that evening. On getting to the arrival lounge. She starred Dele and I down as if we had a contagious disease. She looked even more incredulously at the car. She was not very hard to dislike after that. At one accessing glance, she had reminded me of the slums of OworonShoki, where I came from. I suddenly became conscious of the timeless gulf seperating the rich from the poor. And all the reasons why my friendship with Grace was odd.

My family… We were poor. So poor, we’ve seen days without food. But, I was determined to drag my existence out of poverty. So I chose education.
I wasn’t exactly very bouyant in school, but I did well to fend for myself by working overnight at a cyber Cafe. Anti Funmi, my boss liked me a lot and was always very generous. Together with Grace’s ‘motherly’ care, I lived fairly well. Whenever she couldn’t come through for me on anything, she’d let me know well in advance, and if I seem exasperated, she’d bluntly say something like;

“Last time I checked, I’m not your babe dude. Quit moping”

And so she was always inclined to pester me like that, saying

“Get a girlfriend nau” or “Oga hook up with a girl o, or is it boys you like?” She wore me out with such non sense.
Until that fateful morning in March, when she came by my off-campus ‘apartee’ (which was quite a mess that morning). Seeing the disarray, she exclaimed

“Pete! You really need a maid to clean up your mess o”

Weary from being rebuked all the time, I fired back.

“A girlfriend is exactly what I need and I am actually planning on getting one you know, I’m grown and don’t need you kissing my ass all the time, o.k?” I snapped back at her.

If it was surprise I saw in those eyes or something else, maybe pain? I really can’t tell now, as it was quickly replaced by a defiant glare.

“Go ahead… If anything, verify that you are not gay. And yeah, I actually forgot to tell you, I have a date with Goke tonight” she hissed.

I couldn’t believe her guts! “Who? That lout? Why do you need to bluff now ehn?” I exclaimed in disbelief

As if to substantiate her announcement, she dialed what must have been Goke’s number and chattered away, ignoring me completely.
Common, Goke? Of all people! That… that oaf? But she wouldn’t take my whinning. We parted with bad blood that morning. I was angry and blinded with jealousy and sulked all day over my bruised ego.
She was going out with Goke that night and I would never be outdone. Never.
Dear reader, remember that tramp of a girl back in your school? Well, Tife was the one in mine and had constantly been flirting with me in return for little favours like doing her assignments, attendance and things like that. Though I was like the only guy who had not yet had a ‘piece of the cake’. The day had come.

 To be continued… Watch out for episode 3 and 4

Dark Chocolate ( Grace's Story )

200 level Theater Arts in Unilag was like spending two years trying to stay sane in a mad house.

Normalcy was just impossible. The madness was contagious. For me, Grace Ude, with all sorts of crazy already in my genes, it was a perfect rollercoaster ride.

Maybe that was why my roommate Rashida called me Grey. She was like the only one friend I had in all my two years here. She listened to me when I needed to rant about one thing or the other (I always had to vent). And she even tolerated me when I cranked the volume way up, when listening to Fela. I didn't care about our disgruntled landlord downstairs. The two room self-con cost us two hundred and fourty thousand naira, and my daddy did well to pay for two years upfront. All I had to do was look for a live-in company. And heaven sent me Rashida.

She understood my craziness and accepted me anyway I was.

"Grey shuga. Remind me to wax ur locks for you before you go home this weekend" she shouts from the bathroom "We don't want your pastor daddy freaking out again" she said, reminding me of the promise I made to daddy to always look decent despite rocking dread locks.

"I dont even want to go home" I shouted back "Mumsi is hosting the wives of all zonal pastors this weekend, and you know very well what that means Rashida"

She came out of the bathroom, smelling of fresh shower gel and roses, the towel wrapped around her did very little to conceal her buxom figue. Full breasts protesting against the loose towel.

"Babez! If I was a guy ehn, I'd marry you for breasts sake" I joked playfully.

"You are a lost case, you" she suddenly makes a dash for the kitchen "Oh my God. The indomie on fire. Grey!!"

"Sorry. I forgot! " I hid my face behind the novel in my hands again.

She was the cook, the listener, the fashion consultant, shopping partner, and a whole lot more. She was the best roomie in the world and I took every advantage given.

She was strong for me. When dad wasn't so sure about my lifestyle, she vouched for me... and she got me studying and working very hard at my grades. She was my soul sister.

My real sister however; Toke... That one was just my sister. Sometimes, its hard to believe we came out from the same loins. We practically disagreed over everything.

She was mum's failed project, as I was dads.

Of course, I take responsibility for my loose tongue and being the wild cat. But, I wasn't stupid or hypocritic.

Toke was the privileged brat I had to constantly remind myself never to take after. So when she sent me a WhatsApp text that evening demanding that I come home for the weekend to help mumsi host her house party, I cringed and cursed her inside.

"Why can't she do it herself? " I hissed and sent the phone flying.

Her insentience always left me in a terrible mood every time we spoke. How can she boss me around like that? She knew all the mumu buttons to press to disrupt anyone's day. I couldn't concentrate on my novel again and I had a test, based on the book the next day. I was almost frsutrated.

"Just chill OK? " Rashida said, looking up at me knowingly from the corner where she sat on her praying mat. A devout muslim. "may Allah, Yah-Lateef give you the patience to deal with her. Remember, Sister Toke is family"

I wonder what planet this one came from. Nothing ruffles her. I thought to myself.

She finished her prayers and joined me on the bed. She sat crossed-legged in front of me and took my hands in hers.

"Grey dear. Worry is the darkroom in which negatives develop. I need you to shake it off now"

"How do I do that" I said, "how can my family be the last set of people I wish to spend time with? Rashida, I feel no joy whenever I go home to lekki. There's no life there.. " I broke down sobbing.

She gently cupped my head to her bosom "Grey... Honey... listen to me and repeat after me.."  she squeezed my hands lovingly "Say... Father... Once again I pray for a sense of balance and realism as I make my way through this world. Help me to understand that the joy you give is not intended to remove all sadness but to live above it all. In Jesus name I pray. Amen." I repeated amidst sobs. It didn't occur to me how an Alhaji's daughter was able to pray with me in Jesus name... and, I felt so much better afterwards too.

Rashida!

**************

A few minutes to four pm, and Rashidas Fathers driver was honking downstairs and beeping her phone at the same time.

"Babez. That your lousy driver is at it again o. Why is his blood always rushing anyway?"  I hissed maliciously as she scrurried around the room, picking her things. I knelt beside her box on the bed; doing nothing to help.

I wasn't happy I was being left alone in school.

She looked at me like she could read my thoughts, she said

"Grey, that's Alfa Abu you're talking about...  and please stop looking as if its goodbye forever"

"You are leaving me for two days"

 "I'd be back on Monday morning and in case you change your mind and go help your mother this weekend, please make sure you switch off the meter... and the gas too abeg"

This girl was really going to leave me sha.

"I have to study babez... My regards to Alaja" I threw a pack of sanitary pad at her.

She smiled and shut the door.

Loneliness slowly surged into the apartment immediately after that. I didn't feel left alone, I felt stressed. Knowing I could have some sort of ephemeral company if I wanted to... Right now... All I had to do was to dial 'Pharmaceutical' on my phone and in 15 minutes, I'd be smoking on some neatly wrapped SKunk from Down-Shitta ... Instead of going to study... I felt stresed.

You see, as a junkie, it is one of the withdrawal symptoms that you experience when trying to resist weed craving. Marijuana which possesses the depressant properties of alcohol and is also a mild halucinogen, used to hamper anxiety.

But if I did something distracting... something relaxing, I could shake it off.

What would Rashida do in this situation? And with that, I quickly undressed and stepped into the shower. Having a shower is a good way of relieving stress and at the same time is going to distract you and delay weed cravings.

I was going to study. Go to the lagoon front and read out loud to an imaginary listener. That's what I'd do. Since Rashida wouldn't stay with me. I would find myself some company of sorts.

That was the day I met Pete Agemo. Cute, free-spirit looking boy. He looked like Sean Tizzle (before the mumu started bleaching). I needed the company, so I flirted.

"Hey. You could come join me if you want; you’re just as thin as me”

Dark Chocolate: Peter's Ordeal ( Episode 5 & 6 )

**FLASH BACK**
We maintained our typical Tom and Jerryfrienship for over a year. And now, she(Grace) was going out with Goke that night and I would never be outdone. Never.

Dear reader, remember that tramp of a girl back in your school? Well, Tife was the one in mine and had constantly been flirting with me in return for little favours like doing her assignments, attendance and things like that. Though I was like the only guy who had not yet had a ‘piece of the cake’. The day had come.

******

Later that night, I was standing in front of the Filmhouse Cinemas, Surulere. I was clutching a box of chocolate my meagre finances could afford, asides some extra cash I had put aside to get movie tickets for two. I was impatiently waiting for the seductress, Tife.

Don't be fooled. Getting a box of chocolats while I waited wasn't meant to be romantic or anything. It was after an idle hour, waiting for Tife that I strolled into the adjoining Adeniran Ogunsanya Mall, feeding my eyes and killing time.

Obviously, I wasn't the only idler in the building. I couldn't help but notice, well dressed boys and girls, who had come all the way to Shoprite supermarket just to take selfies. As if the display of goods in the background endorsed them in any way.

I was further taken by surprise when two girls walked up to me. One of them shoved her iPhone at me, and for a minute I thought it was a T.V prank. I looked around for a candid camera, there was non.

"Selfie" she said, giggling like a duck.

Selfie? Isn't that supposed to be a picture taken by ones self? I thought to myself.... Interesting.

Well, if Tife didn't come through, a friend-making venture wouldn't be a totally bad idea.  Plan B activated. I smiled and took the camera.

She quickly joined her friend as they striked 'the pose' (peace sign, pout lips, and some extra attitude). They even did the tongue thing. After about fourty shots in different postures, I got tired of playing photographer. I made to leave, when the interesting one asked for my number.

"Yor nomba pliss" Hmm, that accent though ... I typed in my phone number anyway.

"Nice meeting you ladies..... Errmm...?"

"Munirat. Bet ma friendships are calling me Muni for shot. An dis ma best friendship Shakirat, or Sharki for shot"

The multiple shots made me want to run for cover! Ibadan girls?!!

I hadn't seen anything yet.

"Oya, take ma nober too. Sero hate sero, sis hate sis, tiri hate sefun, noi-noi. Das my hen ti hen nober" I almost fainted!

Blood of Moses! How is it earthly possible to use an iPhone 6 and yet be this poor grammatically? I came from filthy Lagos, but my English had always been okay. Where did this girls go wrong for crying out loud?

I was was about to run when the other girl quipped

"You looks like my bess rapper Sun Tissue... You know that guy da singing sholee kole"

What?!!!

At that point, I just felt very tired. I waved livelessly at them as they said goodbye and sashayed their egg roll-size ikebe out of sight, leaving me amused and disappointed at the same time.

"What in Gods green earth just happened now?" I asked myself. I still had no clue.  

Without thinking, I picked up the nearest thing to me which happened to be a box of chocolates. Why, I felt the urge to eat chocolate, I dont know. You see I was radical like that, and the devils responsible for silly decision-making was at work.

I was starting to get strongly irritated. “Tife caused me all this bullshit o. How could she?” I grumbled.

I went back to Leisure Mall, next door. Wandering the cinema grounds for over two...what… (I looked at my old wrist watch) 9 pm! 3 hours now! Yet she was nowhere in sight. Take three hours back and I had been eager to empty my pockets to gratify any of her greedy cravings that night. I had practically broken the bank just to make an impression. My aim? Simple. Loose my blooy virginity. Thats all (and maybe my stupidity too) and Tife was the promiscuous brat to carry out such deviance with.

And here I was, calling her number for the umpteenth time, refusing to come to terms with the stark obvious- I had been left hanging... again. She was probably in one of her numerous boyfriends' bed doing unmentionables.

"Foolish... foolish Pete” I rebuked myself.

The cloudy skies rumbled in agreement and without further warning, it started raining. I was too upset to cuss aloud and once again thought about Tife.

“Should I wait?” the rain instantly intensified in disagreement. Before I could say ‘Jack!’, I was soaked. Defeated and sopping wet, I slogged homeward.

*******

Out of self-pity and partly because of the weather that night, I decided to steer clear of danfo buses. I hailed a Lagos cab instead.

“Akoka” I managed to mutter as he pulled over.

Without waiting for an answer, I jumped in the front seat.

“3K” the chubby man said. Charges for dampening his car saat must have been automatically added. Bewildered, but not ready to go back into the rain, I motioned for him to drive. I reached for the car stereo without consulting the driver (I was going to get full value for my three thousand naira). I found Smooth F.M and was greeted by the sonorous voice of Sope Martins. Her laughter.

She was saying something about “how romantic hanging out with that special someone could be on such a night” and stuff like that. It took me a lot of nerve not to yell. I quickly switched off the radio. Way to go Sope. The chubby cabman glanced at me, smiling and was about to say something before he changed his mind altogether. Good thing he did. All I wanted was for him to shut up and drive.

He’d just driven past The National Stadium, Surulere, when my phone rang.

“What? Tife?!” I couldn’t believe she was calling me now. I didn’t even know what to say to her. I wished I could be sincerely vulgar and tell her to go fcuk her self. But as upset as I was, I was just too timid to do it.

Anyway, I picked up and listened to her drone on about how she was sucking off a lollipop as we spoke, I clearly wasn’t paying attention, but woke up when I heard something like;

“baby, you’re not talking... I make you horny right?”

“Tife… see ehn… I understand you are just being yourself by being condescending and all, but I lost interest.” Not sure if I drove home my point I added “...the truth is I’m gay... gay! You hear? So just.. just back off o.k.?” I heard her gasp, and with that I quickly pushed ‘End Call’.

The rain came down in torrents and slammed onto the windshield in sync with my heart beat. I could hear the wipers making a ‘swoosh-swoosh’ noise that I wish would just stop. But I had acted up enough in that car and wasn’t about to give the cab man anymore drama. From the corners of my eyes I could see him stealing fleeting looks at me. He probably now thinks I’m actually gay and crazy, he heard me admit it, so well...

I was going to hit something-anything to release the anger that was choking me in that cab. But I had to keep my cool until I got home. I layed back my head and shut my eyes tight as I cursed that tramp Tife for the umpteenth time, for causing me such irritation. I swore to stick to my virginity once and for all. Bitter experience had taught me long ago that the whole business of loving was one big useless facade. To me, intimacy which at first might appear as a light and charming adventure inevitably grows into a regular problem of extreme complexity and in the long run, the drama of a break-up; unbearable.

"Hmmm, it’s not worth it" I hissed to myself. Nothing could shake me out of my strong opinion.

My flow of thoughts was suddenly interrupted as I felt somebodys rough palm on my biceps. I jerked back to consciousness and I found myself in the yellow cab. I was still uncertain about the invasive hand that was now touring my head, my neck and my chest. I slowly came out of my deep thoughts only to see the freckled cab driver flashing me a set of brown teeth, dotted by  Saudi gold here and there. His unwelcome fingers tracing down my chest as he drooled

“Fine boy... we be one o... shey you know... me sef, na man I like.. And I go take care of ...”

I didn’t suppress the impulse one more second.

GBOSSSA!!

I punched him so hard, his head did a 360 degree atop his fat neck. His face, smacking hard against the driver side

window.

The car swerved dangerously on the road as he lost control for a moment.

“March brake jor” I shrieked as I reached for the steering in order to steady the vehicle.

I jumped down from the car immediately it stopped. Quickly picked my box of chocolate and gestured as if to hit him again

“Abeg no vex ! No vex abeg!” He said over and over again, panicky and sweaty.

His pathetic sight made me remember a paltry thief caught in broad daylight at Oshodi market.

"You no get sense o. You dis yeye cab man. So you wan burst my yansh?" I couldn't believe my luck.

I left him there whimpering like a little girl before he got a hold of himself and turned against me. I may be younger and athletic, but definitely no match for an aggressive 300 pound ‘rear marshal’. I moved on quickly.

About The Writer

 Tobi Kuti is a multi-talented vibrant young man, who loves to read and write. He is a creative writer, a motivational writer & speaker and also he is a spoken word artist. He hails from Ondo state and he currently in Lagos Nigeria.
He has written various forms of literary art and creative writing such as novels, short stories, poetry, plays, news articles,
screenplays, and essays. Off the stage he is Teacher, Chef, Poet/Songwriter and he has little knowledge of everything. Kinda follow him on
Twitter @tobby_cooty and add him on
Facebook Tobby Cooty

Dark Chocolate: Pete's Nirvana

The rain had slowed into a drizzle now, and in light of everything that happened that day , I remembered Grace’s words that morning.

“Go ahead... If anything, verify that you are not gay..."

Well, that’s crystal clear now, wasn’t it? My head twirled from the avalanche of thoughts coursing through it as I walked slowly through the drizzling rain. On instinct I checked the box of chocolate within the paper bag, the box was a bit wet and crumpled at the edges but its content dry and safe.

Then it hit me hard. Straight in the face – the only rational reason I had bought chocolate that evening – Grace.

“I loooovvve chocolate” she had told me one time while we were shopping for food stuff at Tejuosho Market. She had gone into a store and bought a dozen each of various chocolate brands. Enough to last a class of nursery kids for a year. Who does that?! Well, Grace does - and I had sub-consciously carried that cognizance in my sub-conscious all this while.

Like a computer processor, my mind quickly analysed places, people, books and random things and people she loved and admired; chocolates, the lagoon front, her favorite Nigerian writers Chimamanda Adichie, Tobi Kuti. Radio gods - Douglas Jekan. The SUB cafeteria, Mavis, Slush, her roommate Rashida, Sovereign Army. Even that downtown skunk I was trying to get her to stop smoking. She had said she'd stop if I helped her ... me? Could Grace be harbouring feelings for me?

I nearly broke down at the possibility...the pros and cons made me stop shivering immediately but my heart still thumped hard in its coffers.

“Mercy me Lord” I said aloud and instantly broke into a jog.