By Enyo Dinta
...So I got a place with this washroom I'm trying hard to like.
Everything to me was just out of place, from the spirogyra infected slippery floor to the harsh metal walls. I don't want to talk about the roof... Don't force me please, I sincerely don not want to talk about it, but just somehow, I knew he would inspire me. I plainly told the washroom how much I hated him and wouldn't bear to stay for long with him. He kept quiet, so I thought I had won. I thought I had scared the hell out of him. How would I know that behind his silence were lots of wickedness deliciously prepared for me, with well washed plates by the side to dish one after another. Poor me.
I had a very stressful day, I got home late too. It was already dark when I finished what needed to be done in the house, I needed a bath, a warm one. Though when I thought about the washroom my spirit felt low, there was nothing I could do, I just had to visit him anyway.
So, I picked my towel, soap and sponge along my container to bail. I wouldn't know what gave me the confidence of whistling while I moved with my bucket in hand.
I have heard a lot about this terrible man, even my own Bembe had told me a lot, I heard he had sent some people to their early graves, rendered some girls useless and under severe pains, I heard some spend days in the hospital after encountering him. You see, all those I have heard and at every point of the tale, I would pick up that potion of the bible, "...only with thine ears shall you hear something something of your enemies..." As my anchor. How would I have know that this washroom had all the attraction needed to bring this terrible fellow close? In fact they were friends.
To be continued.
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