THE PERMANENT STATE OF "MEH..."

 Hey, hey, hey!  It's me, again! 

*ignores the boos and glares at the person launching rotten tomatoes, in my direction* 

Fine, I deserve the less-than-welcoming reactions BUT shouldn't you try putting your dainty feet in my low-heeled 'Christian Louboutins'?  I mean, give your girl the benefit of the doubt, here!

Did I make a promise to be consistent? Yes.

Did I, also, go back on my promise by ghosting for almost 3 months? Also, yes.

But do I now, with a contrite heart and a sober liver, make my way back to you all, promising to never leave again? Sure... Whatever helps you and my blog's traffic sleep at night. 

The point is we've all, at several points in our lives, made terrible mistakes and since I, quite generously, forgive your screwups and imperfections, you should also forgive my flakiness. *bats eyelashes*

Now that's out of the way, how have you guys been?!

For me, it has been the most monotonous time of my life. I'm not even kidding. I'm almost convinced this "work-life" balance people speak of is a myth because, personally, my work and my life feel pretty unbalanced. 

so, quick recap of what has been going on with me.

• Got drenched in the rain.
• Got better at my job? 

The question mark is because I'm so sure my boss would disagree.

• Met a guy I was so sure I would like.
• Started talking to a girl I thought was my arch nemesis. She's good people.
• Met Amy. She's chaos in a dainty package. 
•  Did not end up liking said guy. *insert any video game power-down sound*
• Realized my entire love life could be summed up in an episode of Issa Rae's "Insecure", without the raunchiness and foil packets. 
• Panicked.
• Started a course on Affiliate Marketing because if I end up alone, at sixty, I want to be loaded. Better to cry in a private jet...yada, yada, yada.

Amidst alllll that "excitement", I realized that slowly and surely, I had gone into a state of "meh." 

Let me explain...

You remember when you were an angsty teen, always making a point to let everyone around you know just how little of a fuck you gave about certain things? You put in effort to ensure people thought you put in NO effort. So, in a way, you cared. 

Now, being in a state of "meh" is unconsciously not giving a fuck about anything. It's like you lose the will to care, without even realizing it. 

"There's a spot open! Are you applying?"

Meh.

"Johnny Drille is in town! We should go see him perform."

Meh.

"There's an uprising! The robots have taken over!"

Meh...But also, thank God. 

There is no excitement but, worst of all, you don't care that there's no excitement. 

Don't get me wrong, I know different things are considered exciting to different people but, in this context, I mean anything you would usually derive joy from. 

Anything good enough to motivate you to...well...stay motivated. 

Like I wrote, earlier, I recently realized I had gone into a state of "meh". I cared for nothing, not because I didn't want to care but because I could not care enough to care...

Please, tell me that made sense.

The point is, realizing this, I snapped to attention. It's almost like reactivating sleeper agents by saying the right codes. I tried to remember what Vicki of the somewhat-past would do in situations like this and it hit me! 

VICKI. WOULD. WRITE.

So, Vicki wrote. 

Side Note: This third-person sentence thing is really growing on Vicki. Vicki likes it. But, Vicki digresses...

Now, my seemingly permanent state of "meh" is a bit more temporary than I thought because I forced myself to do something I remembered I enjoyed doing. But, as always, the most important focus of all this is YOU.

If you're like me, I would like you to, right now, dissociate from routine and go that thing that gives you joy. Go sing or sketch or skip or dance or sell your bloodline into slavery. Whatever brings you joy, my friends... except that last part, obviously. 

Second Side Note: The fact that I have to clarify that last part was a joke says a lot about our society. 

And, if nothing else, I hope this write-up makes you feel more than you usually do and turns your "meh" into "care". 

Do let me know what you think, in the comments, and feel free to share with me those little things that bring you joy.

As always and with love,

       - Vicki. 

  

A Children's Day To Remember

 "Transcorp Hilton or Maitama Amusement Park?"

I blinked. "What?"

My younger brother repeated the question, adding helpfully, "Mummy wants to take us out for children's day. Those are the choices."

Now, for me, it was a no-brainer. Transcorp Hilton was my go-to, any day and anytime. Everything about that place fascinated me, as a child; the playground where you got to meet other kids, the tasty meals and snacks and the always smiling staff that always seemed to have more ideas, each time, on new fun we could have.

If nothing else, I loved to stare at the top of the gigantic building, where the hotel's name was mounted. Doing so made me nauseous but I'd been practicing for two years, by then, hoping that I could do it someday and not get the urge to throw up.

Somehow, I felt this might be the year.

So I voiced my opinion, leaving out my long lists of reasons, of course.

"No way," my cousin retorted. Up until now, she had been quiet. "Yes, Hilton is great but we've been there so many times-

"Not that many," I grumbled, but she continued on like I'd never cut her off.

"- but we've never been to this amusement park before and I heard they've got the most amazing rides."

"True," my brother said, nodding in support.

I rolled my eyes. "None of you are thinking far ahead. Okay, say we go on the rides and end up tired and hungry, what would we eat?"

"Mummy would definitely take us to a restaurant."

At that, my brother and I scoffed.

"Wrong," he declared. "Chisom has a point. If that happens, we'll get the snacks they sell there because Mummy will insist we've got food at home but if we get hungry in Hilton, there's the buffet, the pastries and what not. You both get a point each."

Unwilling to argue and because I was and still am an awesome person, I conceded, graciously, to my cousin.

"Fine, we can go to your stupid park."

My brother brought our somewhat unanimous decision before my Mom and she was happy to make us happy.

On the D-Day, we made good time, as we arrived early. There were short lines, to our delight, and we quickly paid for our tickets, again thanks to Mom, and stepped up. 

We went on a few basic rides and then a major one called, "The Pirate". It was a big boat that swung it's passengers from side to side. It was amazing, especially as I got to watch strangers shriek in fear. I was certain it was my favorite of the day until we rode the Ferris Wheel.

To understand the hilarity of the event that followed, I feel compelled to remind you of who it was that insisted on us coming to the amusement park.

We had paid for the tickets, stepped up in line and assured the ride guide we were ready, before getting strapped in. Few minutes after that, the ride began and the wheels on the ride went around and around and around… and AROUND!

We all started begging it to stop as we were scared out of our wits and nauseous, but it just went on and on and on.

After what felt like an eternity later, we were let off and my cousin puked all over the grass. I wanted to vomit, too, but I forced it down, just to laugh. 

My Mom was pissed! Both at the debacle and me laughing. So she made up her mind to end our little trip.

We did get a lot of sugary treats, though, which, in hindsight, might have been what facilitated the vomiting. 

The drive home was quiet and having to drive past Transcorp Hilton made the mood worse.

"So…," I started, addressing my cousin. "Amusement Park, huh? What an amazing idea." 

She just groaned and faced away. Suffice to say that we never returned there until we became adults. But at least we have a story we can laugh about now, and wasn't that the whole point?

Making memories?

Based on a true story.

A Vicki-Maris Production.

NINE TO FIVE, DEAD OR ALIVE... I don't know, man.

Bonjour, mes amis. 

It is currently almost 11:00am and your friendly, neighborhood pal is here again to entertain you with whatever "thought tea" she has brewed. 

Yay, humanity! (Honestly, just go along with this. That way, it'll be over, much quicker.)

Today's beverage of choice is the necessary but oh-so-sucky world of JOBS. No, not Steve Jobs, although, most people say we share a striking resemblance. You know, other than the fact that I'm a black woman with little to no working knowledge of modern technology. But I digress...

Now, it's no secret that our generation is muy different from those that came before us, which is good. Great, even! It's quite evident in everything we do, in relation to thoughts on serious stuff like the state of the economy, leadership,  climate change, relationships, childbearing, to shockingly embarrassing things like, again, the state of the economy, leadership and specific TikTok trends.

Milk Crate Challenge, anyone? Natural selection at its freaking best. 

It is also seen in how we view and pursue jobs... Careers, in general. 

Back in the day, people wanted to work solely for the benefits they received in exchange; A reasonable salary, Christmas bonuses and, maybe, health and dental insurance... The unholy trifecta needed to sustain a family. It didn't matter if you liked what you did, so long as it paid the bills. Nowadays, it's a bit different. 

Don't get me wrong. The money is still a huge factor in the equation, however, recent studies show that most people have gone beyond just needing a source of income.

There's now a desire to earn a living from doing something one actually enjoys doing and our generation is NOT letting up! The older folks are not quite as understanding, and to a certain point, I get it. Where's the logic in turning down a reasonable stable-paying  job in exchange for something so volatile that there's literally no assurance anything positive would come out of it?

"Vicki, peace of mind will not pay your bills."

I know. Believe me.  

Is there a limit, though? For you, I mean. 

Is there a particular level on your pain tolerance chart where you say, "enough is enough" and bid goodbye to the corporate big guys choking you or are you a masochist? 

A/N: That was not intended as a sex joke. 

If you know me, personally, you'd know that I rarely complain... 

I know, I know... I laughed, too. I do, in fact, complain a lot. For someone in her early twenties, I've had one too many downward spirals, but I promise this isn't one of them. 

I just realised that somewhere in between seemingly endless monthly briefs and meetings, Tuesdays blended into Wednesdays and Sundays into Mondays, and I'm still no closer to feeling like my efforts matter, than I did, the very first day I set my feet in corporate Nigeria and I can't help but wonder if the path I'm on is a huge mistake. 

My bestfriend, Julz, is recently chartered (let's all take a moment to holler, in respect.) and her parents expect her to get a job, pronto. Reasonable, yeah? After all, they did pay her fees through school. 

Juliet, however, dreams of owning her own shoe company, and she really does have an eye for designs. The idea that she'd put a pause on exploring her field of study to learn shoemaking might sound a bit ridiculous to them but she is insistent on not being stuck at a nine to five job, unlike some people I know.

Yes, It's a self diss.

Currently, baby girl is working hard to learn and, simultaneously, build her brand and she's not letting anyone stop her. 

That, right there, is what I want. That passion, drive and desire for something that isn't Kizz Daniel. 

In summary, it takes a lot of heart to go after what you want, daunting limitations, not withstanding. 

Here's a question for you; Do you think you could ever leave a relatively stable job that you tolerate, at best, in order to begin one that you love but has little to no insurance? 

I mean, before today, it would have been unthinkable, for me. Now, I'm a little sold on the idea. 

It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do. Hey, baby, I think I wanna quit my job... Or whatever Bruno Mars said. 

 With love and an abundant supply of fuel,

- Vicki 💖💖💖 

THE GOOD GUYS. (Part 3 of 3)

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Final part... Let's go!!! 

Vicki. 💖💖

CHAPTER THREE.

A year ago...

He wasn't supposed to find out. In fact, it had been a huge mistake that he had.

"Baby, I'm off to the airport."

Kate came to the room, clad in a towel. "I'm really going to miss you. Promise you'll come back as soon as the meeting is over."

He kissed her. "I promise. Meanwhile, what do I get for my baby when coming back?"

She smiled coyly, putting a finger under her chin. "Trust me, I can't look you in the eyes and tell you what I have in mind. How about I email you a list?"

He swatted her behind, grinning. "Naughty girl." He quickly glanced at the clock. "I have just an hour to get to the airport and get booked in. I need you to be a good girl while I'm gone and contact Jerry for anything you may need."

"Yes, daddy.”

"Don't call me that or I'll definitely miss my flight."

It turned out that his flight had been canceled, anyway, due to technical difficulties. And so, after putting a call through to his foreign partners, he headed home.

Kate wasn't home but, by an ironic twist of fate, her cell phone was. Then, the messages had come in and at first, he had stared at them, disbelievingly. That had quickly given way to pain.

The following week, a question popped up in his head. If they had done this, what else had they done?

That was when he hired a private investigator.

***

Present day...

Jerry was speechless.

"Well? Say something."

Suddenly, the air in the room wasn't enough for him. He felt claustrophobic. Finally, he spoke. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so, so sorry."

Mason smirked. "Sorry for what, exactly? For planting your ex in my life, for continuing an affair with her after we got married, or for giving her drugs that made me ill, to extort money from me?"

"I need another lawyer."

Mason laughed. "What the hell for? It's all good, man. I just have a final question. All those times you bugged me about getting a second opinion was because you knew I wouldn't, right?"

 Jerry stayed silent.

"Genius! Honestly, Jeremy, you outdid yourself. I'm actually impressed."

"Mase, you have to understand that I was jealous and stupid, okay? You had the life and the girl I wanted. When I pointed her out on the dating site, I didn't expect you to actually send her a message! I stopped the affair months ago, man. Your friendship means a lot to me."

"Chill out, bro," Mason drawled. "Why so tense?"

"I didn't kill Kate. I swear I didn't."

"Don't be silly, Jerry. Of course, I know you didn't."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Mase, but all the evidence points to me-"

"Of course, they do."

"I mean, the police found her blood in my boot. They also found my fingerprints on the murder weapon, a sledgehammer, which is silly because I gifted that to you, last week."

"Lovely gift, by the way. I don't think I ever thanked you properly for it."

But Jerry wasn't listening. It was like the puzzle pieces, on a game board, coming together, beautifully. "You had my car, yesterday. You said yours was at the repair shop."

"Did I? I'm sorry, I have the worst memory in the world."

"You also have a spare key to my apartment. You had it made when there was a gas leak, at the time I was out of town."

"Okay. Now, you're just making things up."

Jerry smiled, sadly. "You killed her, didn't you?"

"Guard!" Mason yelled. The guard from earlier on came in. "I'm afraid there's a slight conflict of interest and, therefore, I will no longer be able to represent Dr. Jeremy.

Hours after Mason had gone, Jerry had a chilling thought.”

The black box!

 

 

***

Miles away, Mason smiled at Annie, the memory card from the black box, sitting safely in his breast pocket. "My usual, please."

"Honey, are you sure you want to be here? It must be hard for you, right now."

"I'm fine, Annie. Actually, I feel better than I've felt in a long while."

Outside Anita's lounge, the wind howled- as though the weather had picked up on the excitement in his heart.

Sometimes, Annie, the good guys do finish first.

 

 

The End.

(Written by ANYANWU, VICTORIA CHISOM.)

THE GOOD GUYS. (Part 2 of 3)

 AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Nothing to see here. Do carry on, kind Sir or Ma'am. 

Vicki. 💖💖

CHAPTER TWO.

A year ago...

The four of them had been on a couple's Caribbean cruise. Mason and Kate had met, months ago, on a dating app, while Jerry and Natty had been an on-and-off couple for three years. The cruise had been Natty's idea.

Beautiful, smart, hilarious and a fast rising fashion stylist, Kate had been every fantasy, Mason ever had, rolled into one.

"She's too good to be true, man," He had said to Jerry, one evening. "Every day I go to sleep, scared that I'd wake up and it would have been a dream."

Jerry made a puking sound. "Dude, your sweetness is making my tummy ache. I don't even get surrounded with this much estrogen when I'm with Natasha." He sipped his drink.

"Whatever, douchebag. Will you be my best man?"

Jerry sputtered. "You're joking, yeah?"

"Bro, I'm as serious as a stroke and a heart attack, rolled into one." He frowned, and tried to wipe the spat out drink on his shirt. "Also, if you could try keeping your cognac in your mouth, next time, I'd appreciate it."

Jerry ignored the snide remark. "Mason, you've only known her for three months."

He shrugged. "So what? When it's right, it's right. You're acting weird, man. You should be ecstatic for me! Your boy is finally becoming a man."

"Of course, I'm happy for you. I just don't think it's something to be rushed into, that's all."

Almost immediately, a voice came from behind. "What shouldn't be rushed into?"

They turned to receive the girls. "Vasectomies," Jerry replied, with a grin.

That night, Mason proposed to Kate. Everything was perfect. Then, somehow, it all went wrong.

***

What had begun with common flu symptoms was now life threatening.

Mason was a mess, and Kate seemed just as bad. His symptoms grew worse, steadily, until he had no choice but to get admitted into the hospital.

"I just don't get it. Nothing seems to work. It's a miracle I still have fluid in my body, after the amount of bile I let out this month."

Dr. Jeremy shook his head in sympathy. "Don't fret, man. I got you." He drew out a clipboard from the tinplate being held by a nurse.

"What you have is Cinchophen poisoning, an advanced form of gastric poisoning. Basically, your body is fighting itself. There are new research drugs available but they're quite expensive, Mase.

If not, you could keep trying those drugs I already gave you or you could seek a second opinion." Before he finished, Mason was already shaking his head. "No, I want the research meds. I trust you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Tell Kate to contact my accountant. He'll know what to do.

****

Present day...

"I demand to see my client this minute!"

"Sir, he's currently being interrogated. Please, be patient."

"Let me get this straight. A confession is being coerced out of him, without the presence of his attorney?"

The desk sergeant was frustrated. "Sir, that's not what I meant. If you could just, please-"

"You go ahead and tell whomever is in there that if I don't talk to Jerry in the next two minutes, I will file for a mistrial in court, on the basis of him being denied his constitutional right to legal representation and the detectives being major pains in the backside."

A minute later, he was ushered into the interrogation room, by a guard. The detectives that had been with Jerry weren't in the room. "I need to have a private chat with my client."

The guard grunted and left. "What the hell did you do, Jerry?!"

Dr. Jeremiah was a shadow of himself. In the last 24 hours, he had found what looked like human parts in his fridge, called the police for help, gotten arrested and interrogated for the first-degree murder of his best friend's wife. "I didn't do it, Mason. I swear on Aunt's grave, I did not do this! You've got to help me, man."

Mason glared at him. "Leave my mom out of this. If you didn't do it, why were her- her body parts- Jesus, Jerry! They found body parts in your fridge!"

"I know it looks bad. I don't know anything. I swear I don't!"

There was a brief silence. "Fine. Walk me through this evening. You need an alibi. Where were you?"

"Uhm.. First, I drove to the farmhouse you had told me to check out. It was deserted, by the way. The foreman you said worked there never showed, so after waiting for three hours, I drove back home. Then I took Denise, the girl I told you about, out for dinner and back to my apartment.

I wanted to get us a nightcap from the fridge, which was when I- uhm... I saw the blood. Denise screamed and fainted. Then, I called the police."

Mason slowly nodded. "It should be easy to prove your whereabouts by tracking your phone. Where is it?"

"That's another thing. I can't seem to find it, and I swear I had it on me when we got drinks, yesterday."

"Okay. What about your car's black box?"

Now, Jerry had a glint of hope in his eyes. "It's there! It's intact! It must have recorded my whereabouts. Thank you!"

"Sure, man. Anything for a friend."

Jerry smiled and relaxed on his seat. "This is such a huge weight off my shoulders. I can't tell you how much I detested the thought of you believing those allegations against me."

"Never. We're brothers."

"Nevertheless, you must be crushed about Katie."

"Honestly, not really. We had grown apart."

The eerie calm Mason displayed was a bit unsettling. "Still, she was your wife, wasn't she?"

"I don't know, Jerry.” He replied, crossing one leg over the other. “You tell me. Was she my wife?"

"Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

“So you have no idea what I’m talking about. Is that it?”

Jerry nodded. “I really don't."

 

"Really? Then, please, allow me refresh your memory."

THE GOOD GUYS. (Part 1 of 3)

 

PROLOGUE

“911, what's your emergency?”

“Help me- Oh, dear God, please, help me!”

“Sir, what exactly is your situation?”

“We need an ambulance. Denise is unconscious and there’s so much blood, and I- I don’t know what to do!”

“Okay. Sir, please try to remain calm and stay on the line. Your call is being traced and there'll be officers at your location, soon. What’s your name?”

The line crackled. “Sir, what is your name?”

“It’s Jeremy. Dr. Jeremy Brookes. Please, hurry!”

***

CHAPTER ONE.

IT was dark and really windy- as though the weather had picked up on the turmoil in his head. The man chuckled. As least, something could feel his hurt.

He heaved, as he dragged a bag through the forest, dry leaves and sticks crackling under his boots. As cold as it was, he felt hot all over.

His pulse raced, as the adrenaline rush in his veins made him feel nothing short of godlike.

Ten miles away, a woman screamed in horror and slumped.

He grinned.

***

Barr. Mason Jackson was at his favorite lounge. It had been an awfully long day and as much as he'd have loved to go home, there was still some unfinished business to be attended to.

“Here you go. A martini, shaken not stirred,” Anita, his favorite waitress said, rolling her eyes at the last part. “Honestly, Mason, you're a grown man. Shouldn't you have moved on from the James Bond franchise by now?”

Mason pouted. “You wound me, Annie. My ego is quite fragile, you know.”

Anita Laura Burnett rolled her eyes again. Although, sixty-two, and twice divorced, she still swore that Mason was the biggest charmer she had met, in all her life. Three years ago, she'd been at a really crappy place, what with being served divorce papers, out of the blues, by that spineless coward she had called a husband.

Ten years of marriage and suddenly, he was gay. That identity hadn't lasted, though, she thought wryly, as a week after the divorce proceedings were over, he had moved in with her therapist. And Anita couldn't help but notice that Dr. Dana conveniently lacked a penis.

After that whole fiasco, Annie skipped town and made a home here, in Paradise, Texas, where she set up a little, cozy lounge, courtesy of the alimony and properties she'd gotten in the divorce.

She'd met Mason and his wife, a little after a year. He was the son she would never have.

Speaking of whom. “How's Kate? I haven't seen her in a while.”

Mason shrugged, as he sipped his drink. “Can't say, I'm afraid. A spontaneous trip with her girls, maybe? You know how adventurous she can get.”

Oh, Annie knew how adventurous Kate was, alright. Everybody knew, except, it seemed, the main person who should have been aware. Shooting him a quick glance, she sighed, internally.

Poor guy. Why do the good guys always finish last?

Mason, on the other hand, seemed oblivious of her worry, as he looked at the time and sprang to his feet. “Damn it, Annie! I told you to remind me about my meeting!”

The waitress arched a brow. “That was last week, genius, and I did.”

Hours later, Mason was pulled into the driveway of his personal doctor and best friend, Jeremy Brooks. An hour ago, he'd gotten a strange call from him, asking for help. Knowing him, though, it was probably a prank.

Or maybe not.

There were police cars in front of Jerry's house. Some officers were taping round the front, while others were either scoping out the premises or talking to the neighbors.

Mason tried calling Jerry, but it didn't go through.

Switched off.

“Sir, I'm going to need you to move back, please. This is a murder crime scene.”

The officer, speaking, looked to be in his twenties and, if Mason wasn't wrong, had a glint of excitement in his eyes.  He couldn't blame him, though. This was Paradise, and it was as quaint as any town could get. The worst crime to happen in a place like this was accidental forest burning or small scale burglaries.

“Wait. Who was murdered?”

“Sir, I'm afraid that's not for me to say. Right now, there's a forensic team, out back, collecting evidence.” The officer responded, before making a move to leave.

“You don't understand,” Mason insisted, pulling him back. “This is my best friend's home. Is Jerry okay?”

The officer looked him over, trying to discern if his claim was legit or if he was another overly eager reporter, trying to get a scoop. Finally, he put a call through and whatever was being said to him, caused his mouth to tighten. “Sir, what's your name?”

“Mason. Mason Jackson.”

“Hours earlier, Dr. Jeremy put you on, as his lawyer, but I'm afraid there's nothing much you can do here, as he's already been taken to the station.”  

Mason scrunched his brows. “Why exactly was he taken into custody?”

“Sir, he's the prime suspect in the murder of a Mrs. Katherine Jackson.”

“Kate? Jerry killed Kate?!”

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Heeeeeeeyyyyy, besties! It's me, your beacon of light. I know... I know... It's been ages, but in my defense, I have absolutely no defense. 

*hehe*

Anyway... A friend recently reminded me of this particular piece and I decided, for my birthday, to upload it. Why not, right? 

It's a three-part short story...ish, and I hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I had enjoyed writing it. 

Hugs and kisses, 

Vicki. 💖💖

CHIMA.

 There were eight people, in total, regarding him with suspicion. They were all behaving  relatively normal, except for a dude, at the far right, whose left eye kept twitching. 

"Do you want the product?"

Gulping, Chima nodded. 

It was 9pm on a hot Wednesday night and the streets looked pretty deserted. Internally, he cussed Ayo for introducing him to this, and cussed himself for lacking the will to be patient. 

What was that saying about dogs and fat bones? 

This was, by far, the riskiest thing he'd ever done. Granted, his life wasn't exactly the plot from "The Godfather". In fact, someone had once referred to him as the whitest black guy he'd ever met. A slight exaggeration, if he had ever heard one. So what if he enjoyed the occasional episode of the Gilmore girls? 

 "Spider, go bring am."

Spider, the gentleman with the twitchy eye, regarded him for a bit before leaving. 

The silence following his departure reminded Chima of a prostate exam. Uncomfortable, at first, but not that bad, after a while. 

"So," he began. "I was told it would last for a lot less time, than usual."

The leader nodded. 

Just then, Spider returned. 

"Mr. Chima, do you have the money?"

Chima nodded and handed it over. After confirming the amount was what had been earlier agreed upon, the leader handed the product to him. 

Clearing his throat,Chima said, "You should know that this is my first time. I was quite desperate, you see."

Wiping his palm on his jeans, he chuckled nervously. "I'm quite anxious, actually."

At this, the leader sighed. "Mr. Man, it's black market fuel, not drugs. Relax."

Turning to his guys, he said. "Let's go. And, Spider? Could you tell Ayo to stop sending over weird customers? The money is, frankly, not worth it."

Much love, 

Vicki. ❤