Hilarious but true II by Isaacola AA

A good and hearty laugh does more good to the heart than any drug!

Kwakwakwa hiohiohio ahahahahaha

Yours truly is back with hilarity. Please promise me you will not laugh! *Winks*

Yours truly works in and around Apapa as you all know (remember the last episode of the mad woman’s slap all the way from Apapa in Part 1?). Um, I had to get my “nokia berry” that I forgot in the office before traveling early in the morning; never mind my forgetful mind – that was actually the first time I was forgetting my phone for any reason in the office. I drove down from my area where I live which is closer to Ogun State than to mainland Lagos. I left 5am and yours truly was at Apapa by 5.30am. The road was free and mind you, I am a careful driver my wife can testify walahi talahi. Somewhere inside Apapa, I saw some “ladies of virtue” changing their skimpy dresses by the road side. They were coming from “night duty”. I was surprised because never in my life so far have I seen ladies of different shapes (sorry, shapeless shapes I mean), height and colour practically naked and not giving a damn guys were passing by. Yours truly just took a long look because I am trained not to take a second look at such absurdity and focused on the business of driving.

Rewind that a bit by five years earlier and you will see a higher display of abnormality. I was rushing to work then from Ikotun where I was bunking with a relative. On getting to Ikotun bus stop trying to get Apapa bus, an “agbero” boy just woke up from inside an abandoned vehicle parked by the road side and started running up and down, screaming at the top of his lungs as if he just had a terrible nightmare. The next thing I saw was that he started hitting a parked “molue” shouting “Where is your mother? Your mother is mad!” all in Yoruba. I thought he was mad but alas after a few minutes of display, he calmed down and started greeting his colleagues. Wonders shall never end!

Rewind that again to a decade back! I went to farm with a family friend’s family. The truth of the matter is I hate anything that involves physical labour but what choice did I have than to follow suit since I was visiting? There was this well composed and mature sister of my friend that in our perverted young minds, we had hungered to see her nakedness for a while. I’m quite sure I wasn’t the only one who entertained such fantasy. All of a sudden, we heard her screamed and in no time, her blouse, bra and wrapper were flying in the air without regard for the ear-to-ear grin on the faces of my friend and I. What happened? Soldier ants, she replied. Wow! Soldier ants had found their way into the soft tissue of her chest and her back. I was confused as to whether to laugh or cry for joy for the “answered prayer”. Praying for a quarter show only to see a three quarter full show? I’m good bad then I think!

In conclusion, methinks all this well dressed babes never fart but I was in for a rude shock one early morning en route Apapa when a bankerly-dressed lady mistakenly thundered from her bum. Embarrassment did not allow me be a gentleman to ask what the hell just happened, nor was I able to use handkerchief on my abused and tormented nose. Um this is a bankerly fart from a well packaged gentle lady.

How many laughed???

You can reach me on twitter@newnaija and @TT007newnaija


3 thoughts on “Hilarious but true II by Isaacola AA

  1. Hmmmm!!! So you endured the bankerly fart…very funny. Well, I’ve come to realize that even the prettiest of ladies can be dirty, irritating and childish when they think they are alone…

    A nice read…and funny.


Your comments are welcomed and appreciated

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s