The Mad man story comes to an end enjoy this last taste.😜
*yawns* today is another lovely day Hehehehe. Wake up look for food, eat, roam around, sleep, repeat. It’s what all of us do. I do it, this, blind, black, begging, brother, in black suit does it too. Even this drummer boy is roaming around, like me, with his drum, but nobody feels he is mad.
It’s only me they treat like a mad man. Is it because I choose to decorate my body with metal containers and stay nakedly dressed? Why is it too hard for them to understand that the sun is too hot to wear too many clothes? Plus it’s my style of fashion. While it is peculiar to my profession to dress this way, I’ld appreciate it very much if I am not judged for it. Nobody discriminates the banker for wearing his suit, or the yoruba man for wearing his agbada, or the chef for wearing his apron. If I choose to leave my hair so wild, attach an empty tin can to the hem of my shirt, have some fungus here and there, loose some teeth, accommodate some lice in my hair, tear a big hole at the back of my trouser for easy shitting, with another hole in front by the side for easy pissing, apply some mud here and there, some extra dustbin fluid, some sewage spray, I’ld love to be accepted by the society for it. After all some really jobless lunatics decided to fight for the rights of men who choose to neglect the succulent body of a woman in favor of having carnal knowledge of another man. A colossal misbehavior by supposedly sane people. But people with money are fighting for the acceptance of such confusion into the society. See, today anybody that looks at me like a madman I will burst their eyes. Yes! this is what I would go and tell my friend Abirun (imbecile) so we can start our own war against discrimination.
***
My friend Abirun is not an ordinary man. I met him through the most delightful of circumstances. I was off to one of the few junctions where I devour the generous donations of ignorant indigenes, lo and behold there he sat ever so lazily the, definition of clunky. He lifted the pieces of my supposed meal to his mouth teasingly but I just could not charge down at him I just felt this connection so we shared the meal that day so we became friends. He took me to his uncompleted house. A good distance away I perceived a delicacy. I walked proudly into the building as was enclosed in a cloud of Igbo (cannabis). I felt joyous like I walked into the breeding ground of my profession. I said to myself, “one day all these people would become great madmen”.
***
Ahh Abirun is not downstairs in his building today. See the fine house someone has provided for Abirun. I’m almost sure that when the person that built this place was building he did not imagine that it would be Abirun’s abode. However, now it is Abirun’s home. If Abirun had asked him to give him the money for the house instead of wasting it here he would have had Abirun’s head. Let me run up the stairs and see if Abirun is upstairs. OOOOH! See the person I’m looking for downstairs. I can’t follow those stairs again. The window seems faster… Aaaaaahhhhhh!!! (SPLAT)
THE END.
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