The Stories I Tell...

He froze as she leaned over him. Nights of visits to certain pages of rumoured beautiful ladies gave him a fair idea of what "beautiful" looked like; this woman before him, she was beyond beautiful. While his eyes had yet to be done with its fascination of this beauty before him, his nose caught a whiff of her scent. He noted earlier that She smelled nice already, but this was different, this was the smell of woman; a perfect woman. The scent of her drove all other thoughts from his mind, all that was left was her, not even his own self, for in his mind he was but, the air surrounding her.  While he was still lost in thought, she leaned ever closer to him, so close, he proposed this must be what the first lovers proposed as "kissing distance ". He wondered what would happen if he tilted his head upwards to initiate kissing her lips. He observed her lips, they were luscious, full and very tempting almost to a point of hunger; the red lipstick carefully and styli

This is a story that you have probably heard before. Even though I wouldn’t wish it on you, it is very possible that you've featured in a story like this. For now, though, this is Bayo's story. Bayo had just entered that period called puberty about two years ago. Looking at him though, you wouldn't have known. He did not grow facial hair neither did he grow body hair neither did his voice upgrade to a deeper version. One thing was for sure; he had definitely started seeing girls in a new light. A rosy coloured light. There was this one girl in particular... Bayo saw her at his worship centre. She was dark skinned in colour, cut her hair low and was always dressed simply but elegantly. She and her family had started worshipping at the centre only   a few weeks ago. They always sat on the front seats, close to the podium. What especially called her to his attention was the spectacles she wore. Although he didn't know it yet, Bayo had a thing for girls wearing

"Fire, tears, and blood! There will be fire, tears, and blood!! Yes! Along with broken bones for those of you who disobey my holy commandment! Thou shalt not cheat in my exam hall. Some of you might be thinking, 'Cheat but don't get caught', I laugh in Pythagoras. I have eyes in the back of the head, nostrils that sniff out iniquity and ears that can hear even your cheating thoughts. There shall be no spying or carrying of 'bomb' in this hall! Otherwise, fire, tears, blood and broken bones!" This fire and brimstone sermon was being 'preached' by Mr. Dickson, our Introductory Technology teacher. I say preached but what I actually mean is yelled. Or boomed. Or shouted. You get my drift. Mr. Dickson was a towering individual; both tall, and wide also. He looked like the baby of The Rock and a sumo wrestler. If such a thing ever happened. He had dark skin, a bald head, flat nose, and thick ugly lips.  Mr. Dickson, or Mr. Ugly baby, as we called

I don't ever cut my hair unless Kunle is around. I drink coffee before leaving the house for the barbershop. Strong black coffee. I also carry a cap with me. My wife teases me about these rituals all the time. I smile but the smile doesn't quite reach my eyes. The memory of that day is still too fresh for me to laugh about. I also wonder if that day has any effect lurking around the corner, waiting to catch me unawares with sharp teeth and claws. It was the year before I started dating Sandra. I worked at a well-known advertising firm. For weeks, I had been working on a campaign for one of our biggest clients and the next day was to be my final presentation. The C.E.O of my company was going to be present along with the Senior Marketing Manager of the client's company. If I handled it right, I had a shot at a promotion. Impressions matter. That's why I had already sent and collected my best suit from the dry cleaner. I had just cut my hair the previous week but I