The Stories I Tell...

"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