How I Got My Girl – By Michael Okoye

Today, I prepared for church with my earphone plugged, sorry, glued to my ears. You see, my younger brother shared a song performed by Nigerian artistes which didn’t contain lyrics like ‘the way you dey whine that thing..’ and stuff. I found it quite refreshing. I’ve been listening to it ever since.

I don’t usually take my phone with me to church. I find it distracting and a tad bit disrespectful. But with bad gang playing, I unconsciously took it along, my earpiece still hugging my ears. That was the first time it occurred to me that the Lord was with me.

I arrived church very early for Sunday school (I don’t joke with it) and took my seat behind one pretty damsel like that. Through out the teaching, I didn’t notice her until she was asked to read a passage from the bible. She stood up. My world fell apart.

Confronting my view with all its pride and haughtiness, stood this wonderfully constructed waist. Now I’m not a waist crazy guy. I’m more of an Iruka guy. But this one was beyond me. I pleaded the blood several times but the waist gained an upper mind. Her front issues were okay too. Normally, I’d do the sign of the cross and instead concentrate on the wondrous work of Calvary. Not this time. I resolved to ask for her number when the Sunday school was over.

It seemed as though someone communicated my evil intentions because when the class was dismissed, she started walking very fast like a whore in a dark alley. That’s how she sped to her seat and left a brother to wallow in sorrow. I sat a respectable distance from her. I observed her. She seemed like those double-edged sisters that’d pray down the holy Ghost while sucking your dick. I looked down at my
phone and smiled. Today is not the day I fuck up, I para phrased Syrio Forel from Game of Thrones.

Service ended but the head pastor wanted an audience with the youths. I form James bond and waited outside the auditorium for them to finish so I could fish out my target. They concluded. The youths began trooping out. I didn’t see her. I began to panic. Had she left without me knowing? My eyesight isn’t very good (I’m short-sighted) but I could pick out that ass in a crowd of fat Japanese sumo wrestlers.

I entered the church. I saw her. I was happy. I trudged towards her but there was a stumbling block. A missile sent from my village in the form of a brother chatting her up. Chei! Wahala. I took a seat two rows from her and watched. The idiot was trying to impersonate Basketmouth as he cracked unfunny jokes.

I’m as civil and gentle as they come. I’d have left them to finish up and then proceed with my ass-winning mission.
Fuck that.
I couldn’t wait anymore. I got up and sat beside her.
‘Sorry, I need your number’
Slight pause.
‘errm, my number? Okay’
I handed her my phone and she started to type in her digits. To douse the awkwardness, I spoke :
‘My name’s Michael, yours? ‘
‘ Damilare ‘
Meanwhile the poor sod turned his face away, if he had met my gaze, I’m sorry, I don’t think I’d be alive to narrate this story.

That was the sum total of our dialogue and I walked away, ever so swaggerliciously. Dramatic music playing in the background and all that. I felt a pinch of pity for that lad.
Overtaking is allowed biko.

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3 comments

  1. Nice one Michael Okoye. I remember reading this story on Bismark’s facebook comment section on a certain post some days back. Am happy it’s been published on Bismark caves. You not get pity sha oh. Nice one bro. 👍

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “Confronting my view with all its pride and haughtiness, stood this wonderfully constructed waist. ”

    I love this well constructed line.

    But the waist in the picture used for this story is over-constructed…..Choi. …

    Great narrative!
    I hope to find my “girl” soon

    Like

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