This week, i bring you an exciting online series that is in it (permit me to use the word) second season: Fish Brain Games created and written by Sally Kenneth (@moskedapages). The first part of the series titled “Fish Brain Clan” was exciting, wittingly funny, and thought provoking. The series follows the lives of different characters employing a first person narrative to tell their story of how their supposedly wise decisions affect their lives and the lives of the ones they claim to love.
Now that the second part – Fish Brain Games – is here, I don’t want you to miss out of this wonderful series. You can thank me later. And remember to encourage her by leaving a comment if you enjoy (and I expect that you will) the story.
To act the fool is the best way. Mumu yourself in front of others in order to catch them in their own mumuness, someone wise once told me, and that has been my motto. Though, sometimes I’m just naturally clueless. For instance, Doyin came to my house all on his own, to see me but I had concluded that he was the date Pastor Ishi arranged for me. So, I played along, believing in my mind that it was some sort of game. When I escorted him outside and saw the car he came with, alarm bells didn’t go off because I thought James arranged the whole setting to get him to awe me, just so that I would fall for him and that he (James) would prove that I was a material girl. It never really occurred to me that the car was actually Doyin’s, that he had somehow hit it big and was back to claim his prize, which was me. All these clear signals escaped my eyes because I was busy playing the mumu. But everything cleared when out of nowhere, he grabbed my waist, pulled me close and tried to kiss me.
“Eh…Doyin, what do you think you’re doing?” I pushed him back but his hands still clutched my waist for dear life and at that point, Popsie popped out of the gate and did the cliché clearing of throat. Doyin immediately stepped away from me and arranged himself like a good boy. I looked at Popsie briefly and he gave me the ‘I’m-about-to-go-get-my-Dane-gun-and-use-it-on-you’ look.
“Chiamaka,” he called and I held my breath. I felt hot air coming to my cheeks.
“You’re standing in my way.”
I shifted quickly just in case the gun was anywhere in sight and he wanted to use it on Doyin. No need getting in the way of a good shot.
Without any more words to us, he started his evening walk. I released my breath and eyed Doyin but he was smiling at me with no care in the word.
“You have just killed me, Doyin.”
“Not yet.” He took my hand and held it strongly. “Amaka, when you left me, you were a shy twenty-one year old girl but now I see a beautiful, sweet, sexy and intelligent woman and I’m glad you’re not married yet…”
And I’m glad you’re still short.
“I’m also happy it took you breaking my heart for me to see that you’re worth the struggle. I owe you everything. You pushed me to my feet and made me work hard until I got where I am today. This Porsche is one of the things I do now. That’s what happens when one has money and they don’t know what to do with it. But I have a feeling that if I have you, you’ll help me spend it wisely…”
And what did you think I was helping James do at the moment?
I stopped him with a raised hand. “Wait, let me get this straight. Soooo you don’t work at the airport?”
He laughed. “I was just helping an old woman with her luggage and you concluded I was some baggage boy or something. You should have seen how you vanished after you got my Twitter handle. One would have thought you didn’t want to be seen with me. Amaka…I’m here to get you back and nobody on this earth can stop me. By the way,” he said smugly, “the Porsche is yours. I hope I’m the one to say this first. Happy birthday in advance.”
He took my hand, placed the ignition device for the car in it and held me tight because I almost stopped breathing. I was blinking non-stop and I could feel myself on the verge of fainting.
“Are you okay? You’re red.”
Idiot! That’s because you went and fondled my weak spot.
“I should be going,” he smiled, the arrogant air still there. “I wanted you to drop me off so you’d know my place but it looks like your dad wants to kill me, so I’ll just take a bike and check on you tomorrow or on Monday, if that’s okay?”
I didn’t answer. I just stood there – blank like Tonto Dike’s brain. But when he stepped forward to kiss me again, I slapped him. And that slap wasn’t intentional; it’s just what happens to my hand when I’m standing before useless boys. Besides, I could have slapped anything then just to clear my head. He was the nearest object.
Quickly I stepped out of mumu mode and activated my normal senses to realize that James hadn’t sent him, that thefool was there all on his own and he had bought me the car of my dreams just because a week before I tweeted that I was going to marry the man who would buy me a Panamera. How was I supposed to know he was now stinking rich and could afford to take the tweet seriously?
“Ehn, Doyin, carry your car key abeg. I didn’t tell you I needed a car. My fiancé has enough to get me two of these if I wanted.”
In my dreams.
Doyin smiled again and I started seeing other things that I had missed. The Lyle and Scott T-shirt, Hugo Boss jeans, Ralph Lauren Burwood Canvas and a six figure wristwatch that could have paid my bride price three times over. Then I saw (against all better judgment) that he was really creamy and his brown, puppy eyes and pink lips were now accentuated with a skin tone that was 100% ajebutter. I’m sure girls were killing themselves and others over him but, er, thank you, I preferred my man mean-looking, long-nosed, thin-lipped, dark-skinned and northern-flavored.
“Doyin, I can’t take this.”
“Neither can I. The car’s all yours.”
Then just like that, he hopped on an okada that had stopped beside him and rode off before I could say one more word.
I walked to the car and circled it slowly, still dazed that it was all mine. Being that my neighborhood was in the heart of Surulere and boasted of really tight streets with amebo neighbors, I did my best to act like having a Porsche with my name on the plate was a normal thing but omo, it wasn’t easy. I looked down our street and started calculating how long Popsie was going to take on his walk. Normally, he’d stop to greet all the neighbors he saw on his way, then drop by the shop of the neighborhood gossip queen, Mama Osaze; there he’d sip a cold drink while she loaded him with the latest gist. From there, he would proceed to his wife’s supermarket to rest his long legs and whine about how fast he was getting old, how in the old days, he could walk for six hours non-stop; and when the poor old woman was tired of his moaning, she’d send him back home. All that usually took an hour and thirty minutes, so I had time enough to make clean my escape because I smelled a family meeting organized for me in the near future, thanks to Doyin and his straying hands.