So you woke up this morning, gay and ready to take on the day. But first, you go before your Heavenly Father for your ‘quiet time’, but how can you stay quiet in the face of ebola and the virulent waves of information everywhere. There’s no way you are doing this the quiet way. Gallantly, you throw off the ceiling in fierce supplication and then later rained declarations; that you are not ebola’s and there is no agent of ebola that would step within a 5km radius of you.

Amen!

(Melodrama wetin??!!! [Ref: Mattew 11:12])

All your office shirts are thankfully long-sleeved anyway, so you put on a silk blue shirt, your repellent – all the while covering yourself with the blood of Jesus with volatile interjections of ‘in the name of the father, the son and the Holy Spirit.’

At work you have a sanitizer by your desk, but more, you encumbered yourself with unwanted files everywhere you went so you can keep your hands busy and make do with verbal pleasantries and courtesying. When it became too contrived to have a file, your hands became buried deep in your pant’s pocket and your handkerchief, gingerly available to reach for door knobs, mouse etc.

All day you’ve been playing coy.

Now work’s closed, you feel mentally exhausted from all the coyness, but relieved you are finally heading home to a place where you don’t have to be so coy.

Home calls!

Tie in place, socks like a woman’s stockings- one would think you were just setting out for work. Even now your guard’s so high, you have stopped your sleeve-rolling ritual at the close of work.

One more hurdle to cross though! If only you had a car and you don’t have to mark your territory in those mobile contraptions that would get you home. But of course, this is you; Mr Coy! If you could nimbly dance around your office associates, how hard can it be with total strangers?

So you sit; at the far end of the bus because of course everybody knows one immediate co-passenger is manageable than a sardine.

What you didn’t imagine is this – a woman with a baby. Before you could say Robin Williams, the bus was filled and the journey has started.

So this baby, a head of dreadful locks, smiled at you and you smiled back- the one careless action that would soil your otherwise impeccable day, the banana across the wire that would rile the monkey.

The baby excited, reached for your bag, clawing at it with hands dripping of sweat and mucus and saliva and what-not. In your imperial coyness, you stylishly backed off from the overzealous devil, rubbing your bum against the wooden seat like you couldn’t get your hand to relieve an itch.

Not long enough, this laddle?

No, she wasn’t letting you off that fast. She reached out again and you furtively threw her the ghastly Frankestein look. She recoiled back into her mother’s kangaroo back-pouch.

Victory!

‘I’m such a badass’, you congratulated yourself but made a mental note to mix a generous amount of salt to your hot water for a thorough ablution when you get home.

And home’s two minutes away…

But the devil was on the counter.

A light tickle was spreading across your arm, then you felt the little devil’s sodden hands reaching for your naked hand – just that part beyond your sleeve – when the Spirit nudged you.

Paranoia kicked in! ‘Madam control your pikin’ you shouted. ‘In short, conductor o wa . I don reach my bustop!’

So you swiftly but carefully disembarked and covered the few miles to your doorstep on foot, skalabooshing in tongues. The moment you walked through the door, you sunk down to your knees and soaked yourself in the mighty blood of Jesus.

Five minutes later you were dripping with wetness. No dove in sight, so you had to flip the script.

In lieu of the salt-hot water recipe on the menu, you settled for a bath in disinfecting alcohol.
Bazinga! Let’s see if those infernal viruses survive the onslaught!

Yes indeed from the days of John the Baptist the kingdom of Heaven suffereth violence..

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2 thoughts on “MR COY AND THE ALCOHOL BATH

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