I am so sorry that this is coming late, I actually scheduled for noon today but just found out that I accidentally scheduled for tomorrow…I am super sorry.
I sit in my mother’s shop looking outside with my hawk-like
eyes. I was still seething in anger over the meaningless gossip those annoying
girls in my compound had said behind my back this morning but as the wise old saying goes, ‘everyday for the thief…’
My mother sold a
variety of things, at first glance it looked like a mini supermarket, but she
also sold garri, rice, yam, kerosene, cold drinks- merchandise which she locked up in the freezer and
refused to release the key to me- and many more. 
I had just arrived the shop and the sales girl who was half
my age was pouring through the invoice books, she had given me a side eye as
soon as I stepped in but murmured a greeting out of courtesy. I had hardly sat down before taking a biscuit, unwrapped it and began to eat.

“Mummy counted the biscuits…” The sales girl said to me.
“Are you mad? Am I your mate?” I spat at her while the
particles of the biscuit I ate left my mouth and flew about.
“You’ll have to pay for those biscuits please…” She said
to me.
“See dis one ooo…na who you dey speak English for?”
“I have told that mummy counts the items in the shop and I don’t like it that
she deducts money for items you take, from my salary.” The sales girl said.
“Chika…or wetin your name be sef? Dem nor born you well to
talk dat kain talk wey you talk again….you nor dey fear?” I shout in menace.
“I am actually being very polite. Mummy locked her freezer
because you always finish the drinks whenever you come but if she locks up the biscuits
and other provisions, the store will look empty, that’s why she left them on
display. I am only asking that you pay for that biscuit that you are eating and
it costs, two hundred naira.”
I stand up and walk up to where she’s seated at the counter
and point my finger at her.
“Look me well….look me well….well…I resemble pesin wey
poverty dey use play volley ball? You think say I be like you wey nor get
shame….look at you….even after all the English wey you dey blow, na wia
you dey? Bank? Ya papa fit send you go university?  Nor be for inside Iya Akinola shop you dey sell market? Why you neva fly
reach Cambridge?”
“I really don’t have your time…” The sales girl said
refocusing on the invoice on the table.
I slam the table with my left hand and drag her up with my
right hand so her face is close to mine, I’m
sure she can perceive my breath.
“I don dey talk since morning say, I wan arrange pesin teeth
and nay a own I go first use as scape goat!” I say curling my fist to give her
a hard punch.
“Abosede!” A female voice calls out from behind me.
“Ma!” I answer and quickly let go of the sales girl.
“Wetin you dey find for hia? Why you dey harass Chika?” My
mother thunders at me in her loud voice.
I turn to face my mother. She is a quite bulky but firm
woman of average height, she has a way of staring deeply into my eyes and I
know she blames herself over the way I turned out.
“I nor dey harass am oo..” I lie, raising my hands in the
air as though a thief caught red-handed.
“You are lying!” Chika fired at me. “Mummy, she took
biscuits from the shelf and refused to pay…” She said to my mother.
“Ha! Who talk say I nor go pay? Dis gial…you too dey lie
shaaa…” I say in self-defence.
“Abosede! Wetin you use four hundred naira bread do? Plus
two orobo Pepsi! Why Iya Gbenga dey harass me anyhow for front of house?” My mother shouts.
“I nor chop everything ooo…I dash some give dem aboki wey
dey beg…” I say quickly trying to defend my over-eating.
“From today, if you wan buy anything to chop, make sure say
you hold money to pay for am. I nor fit provide shelter, cloth and food for pesin
wey don reach to take kia of herself.” My mother warned me and walked over
to the counter. “And you must to pay for dat biscuit wey you take…” She says
to me.
I hiss under my breath.
“Ehen! Shola wife don born…dem be want pesin wey go help
dem for house so, I tell dem say you go come…” My mother said.
“Hian! I resemble servant?” I shout in annoyance. “Jimoh nko? You for send Jimoh give dem.”
“You well so? How I go send small boy wey never reach ten years to help baff baby?” My mother asked.
Shola is my immediate elder brother who recently got married
to his girlfriend, he works in a bank and lives not too far from us.
“Abeg I dey busy…” I say.
“I don talk my own…you go helep Shola wife with pikin, he
talk say she dey write exam so dem need pesin wey go stay for house, take kia of baby. Dem don dey even plan for naming sef so…dem need serious help.” My mother said and quickly switched to a
conversation with her sales girl.
I hiss, stamp my foot in anger and sit at a corner, taking
one of the biscuit slices out of the pack, I chew noisily and mummur under my breath.
“Na so so slave work dem know how to send pesin….mtchewww…”
Photo Credit:
1. www.cakeyboi.com

To be continued next week Wednesday….


    • I am so sorry dear, I promise to change. I will start writing longer stories…soon.
      But wait ooo…the stories are long na…
      Thank you for reading dear.


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