Short stories


I had just left the Iselle-Ukwu NYSC camp in
Delta state and was travelling back home in
order to retrieve my car for use in the service
year. I stood at the motor park looking strange,
exhausted and tired. There was no attire to
suggest that I was a corps member, save
my ID card in my pocket- my khaki and other
paraphernalia of service were tucked away
safely in my little hand bag.

    I boarded the
commercial bus set for the journey to
my home state of Ekiti. There was this
extremely beautiful lady beside me in the bus.
She was a study in panache, a paragon of
ravishing radiance, a whole garb of pageantry.
She wore the carefree smile of a collegiate
female model on the runway- the type that
gives men a combination of goose pimples, a
confused mien, an imbecilic reactive smile, an
assent to every unreasonable demand.
   Initially, we  ‘styled’ for each other amidst  intermittent exchanged glances, I reasoned that she was conscious of her ineffable beauty and i was
ready to bring her down from the high horse of
her cosmopolitan arrogance by not making the
first move by my usual pick up lines of a
humorous interjection or
so I thought.
   Like the witch that most beautiful women are,
no sooner had I made the rule than I broke it. I
became a gentleman true to type, making the
first move of course, and we got talking-
bonding almost immediately…she moved closer
to me, leaning on my slightly broad shoulders
whilst I smelt her soothing pheromones and
sweet-smelling vanilla flavour cologne.
We exchanged gists and I cracked her open true to
type as a connoisseur of humour. She giggled
repeatedly hitting my laps in reaction to every
joke I shared and I savoured every bit of it with
a ‘don’t wake the sleeping mamba If you don’t
want a bite’ grin…
   After about one hour into the journey, I began to
notice a tickling sensation and a numbing
feeling in my tummy. I felt so much discomfort
as my belly worms began to make rumbling,
tumbling, thunderous noise like loud
fusillade of applause after a phenomenal
    “What did I eat?”, “Why me?”, “Why
  I asked rhetorically…I started sweating profusely on my
forehead and my stomach alone even though I
sat by the well-aerated window shore.  The
discomfort was so evident but only me sitting
on bottled up shit could feel it. I only managed
to eke out a wry smile as this gorgeous beauty
asked me what the matter was.
  I replied
‘nothing’, not wanting to fall my hand…I began
to shift base, turning up and down like
pancakes on fresh fire…my eyes became
pepper red, wet, misty and dreary. I grunted
ceaselessly in excruciating pains as I tried
effortlessly to suppress the dysentery-compelled
    My mind raced to the Afang soup and
Garri I ate which I wasn’t used to as I
researched into the cause of my predicament…
  My church mind prodded me to inform the
driver to stop for me so I can empty my bowel
into the bush ‘toilet’ in a sportless shot put
spree; my ‘forming’ mind gave me ginger that I
can pull this off alone that I would ‘soon’ be in
my destination in 5hours; my street mind
warned me that If I do not talk fast, my
disciplined shit holder might lose grip and empty its content into my boxers. All hell would be let loose as neither
the beau I am ‘styling’ for nor the passengers
would be able to withstand the stench of the
outpouring harvest of Afang soup’s misgivings
  I tried switching off my mind, holding on
to the faith…I began to question myself- why
form for someone I might not even see again?
What is it? ‘She no dey shit?’….every
diversionary tactic did not work.
   I was praying
someone would be in my shoes who would
prompt the driver to grind the bus to an abrupt
halt so I can go for the shit ritual- in the bush
of course…this was very unlike me…me?
Forming because of a pretty woman?
  All these while, my new friend was snoring
mildly- her braz weaved head on my troubled
shoulders… She soon woke up and what she
said almost shocked me…”Oga Driver, Abeg,
pull over, I wan shit!”
    I thought I didn’t hear
well, that she was stopping the bus for me…I
heaved an overdue sigh of relief as I screamed
“me too”…it was at this point that I realised I
wasn’t alone in the shit saga… About 7 of us
alighted and navigated our way into several
locations of nature’s latrine and ‘boskaka’
    We all returned with passing glances of
“so, you sef wan shit” on one another….I never
saw or met the lady since the hilarious episode
even though we exchanged contacts…
   One vital lesson the shit saga taught me was
never to form for those oblivious of my
existence…God forbid that one does the thing in
the panties and the commuters choked from the
stench – That shame one avoids would be in
manifolds.. Always say your mind and demand
help when you need one, eschew every form of
meaningless pretentiousness and
ego trips…be as real as daylight ..for the
one you hide your shit from also shits..
  Have a great day, friends!
-‘Tosin Ayo’


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