[ The Scam ]

The stage was set . . .

Camera on – ready, set, go !

From start to finish, an entirely solo thingy all by myself, with me being the model, make-up artist, cameraman and director.

Using so much light from the window and bulbs in my living room, I was able to diffuse and mellow down the lime green wall background to make it look whitish. 

Myself looking corporate and gaily dressed in the final photo, whereas in reality – I’d worn a short sleeved shirt that wasn’t even fully buttoned down while using my dark jacket plus tie to cover up my jeans short.

“Who could’ve ever imagined that I was wearing my bathroom slippers while all these even went on ?”

Just another fact to highlight the truth about photography being a scam.

The simple story of how I’d achieved this passport photograph, described above. I swear, photos do tell lies. It’s a big big scam to say they don’t. 

Kikikikikikikikikikiiiiiiiiii !

@ O’Shine Original . . .

[ Go to Hell ]

I’ve had issues with supposedly close friends in recent times, misunderstandings that bothers on their inability to process the truth and obvious fact.

And this to a large extent has made me shudder at their lines of thought – Oh, a bosom friend once called me tactless and undiplomatic in such matters that deals with emotions. 

Maybe I’m unemotional and unsentimental when it comes to saying it as it is. Talk about me ever ready to say the obvious. 

I remember my chit-chat with a neighbour I’d seen coming back from the gym:

“I saw you when you returned with that fat guy . . . “

The fat guy being her friend from the same compound as hers.

She had fired back at me:

‘You shouldn’t call people fat . . . ‘

I giggled while reading the reply and asked further:

“Okay, is he thin ?”

Kikikikikikikikikikiiiiiiiiii . . . 

*

Fast forward to me hooking up with a young friend; someone with facial looks and body you could readily attribute to a 24/25 year old but whom in the actual and real sense is a 32 year old mother of two.

For me, looking that young would’ve been a huge positive and great compliment, especially when I’d gone ahead to jokingly tell her:

“You look like an innocent child . . . “

Never realising my statement didn’t come good to her and my finding out after she’d not picked my calls for almost a whole week.

When she eventually did, she be like:

‘I had to start avoiding you cos you made me feel so little . . . ‘

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat ?”

I was totally shocked at that revelation . As in seriously . . . Ok, maybe I need more tact or diplomacy henceforth in dealing with people . . .

Diplomacy, they say:

‘Is the art of telling people to go to hell in such a way that they actually look forward to it, by asking for directions . . . ‘

Kikikikikikikikikikiiiiiiiiii !

@ O’Shine Original . . .

[ When It Rains ]

Usually cos I sit down all the while working from home – I take a stretch and get up when a phone call comes in, sometimes strolling to and standing behind the window of either my living or bedroom.

I’d done exactly so this early morning that particular day – looking out unto the street, then catching a strange sight and sound.

A random guy, better described as a cretin had crawled up right to the gutter in front of my house – talking to himself, loud enough for me to hear him through my unopened windows.

He be like:

‘Gutter lo mo bayi, o je kiin wa ile si adugbo yi ni o . . . ‘

(How can a gutter be this clean, I should find myself a house on this street)

To think he was saying all these to himself as he peed away in the exact same gutter he was taken in by.

Perplexed by his audacity, I flung open my windows, angry and shouted down at him:

“Do you realise I pay good money to ensure my gutter is clean ?”

He looked up in the direction of my voice and pleaded:

‘E jowo ma binu si mi, ojoo a fo lo . . . ‘

(Please, don’t be angry at me, the rains will wash it off)

‘Imagine that ?’

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr !

@ O’Shine Original . . .

[ Stone Cold ]

Kunle had gone ‘awol’ on me yet again – saddled with a handful of tasks I’d entrusted to him a few days back.

I got his call that afternoon, not exactly needing him again cos I’d by now rounded up on virtually all I wanted him to do for me.

I picked up, while also looking down from my window unto the street – a vehicle was parked right in front of my gate and I could see his funny figure behind the wheels.

“What are you doing in front of my house ?”

I barked down at him.

‘Sorry sir . Sorry sir’

He cried back into his phone mouthpiece, full of remorseful explanations.

‘I know I should’ve come see you since but for so many things that cropped up, sir’

‘While I was at that woman that lives around your house yesterday, I wanted to come but ended up spending the entire evening at her Christian Wake . . . ‘

Alarmed by his last statement, shocked infact – I asked:

“Which woman around my street died ?”

‘That very nice woman that is a Director at the company on xyz street about three streets away.

Realising he was referring to one simple woman that was usually chauffeur driven in a black suv, to the front of my house to see her tailor – I screamed:

“What happened to her – please, don’t tell me ?”

Kunle went further:

‘She slumped while attending a corporate training last week – in actual fact, I’m just coming straight down from her lying in state now and couldn’t even bare to have a glimpse of her corpse . . . ‘

By his additional and graphical details, the woman whom I had thought was in her early 60s or so from my assessment of her from afar – laid down in her home:

‘Stone cold’

Dead !

Aged 53 years old.

May she rest in peace . Amen.

*

Please, check yourself regularly. 

@ O’Shine Original . . .