The Made 8


Omo, those dogs in John Wick III… Talk about fearless, undaunting, and amazing! Believe it or not but it is when I’m seeing this movie in the cinema that the most important advice I could ever give myself occurs to me. I should pack out of my father’s house and rent an apartment. Yes! That way, I meet people on a neutral level and can pretend to be what I’m not so as to pick out who is real and who is not.

It’s the first thing I tell him the minute I saw him which is about a week later. Fortunately for me, my elder brother is not around to take sides with him.

“You want to go and live on your own?” He asks, calmly.

“Yes. I think that’s the best path for me.”

“And you are sure this is the best way to go?” He asks.


“So, how are you going to… What… Wait, who?… How?… Maybe you should drop your car keys.”

“What?” Now, it is my turn to be dumbfounded.

“Yes. Since you are grown enough to live on your own then you are grown enough to buy yourself a car, young woman.”

“It doesn’t even follow.” I grumble.

“What did you say, young woman?”

“It doesn’t even folllow.” I repeat, albeit louder and make to leave his room.

“Come back here! What is wrong with you? Are you going through midlife crisis or what? Have you been abusing substances?” He asks and looks me in the eye, searching.

Is he serious right now?

“No?” I answer. Why am I replying this?

“You are not even sure. You spend all your time doing nothing. I didn’t send you to an expensive school to not do anything. You have the right model in your brother and I. Do the right thing.”

“Dad, where is this coming from? I tell you I want to be independent and you say that I’m being irresponsible.”

“Okay, who is going to pay the rent? Hmm? Yes, that’s what I thought.”

I just walk away. I guess my plan wasn’t well thought out. I’m going to go and think about it clearly and come back to revisit this matter.

I just went to see a movie. I can’t possibly go back to the cinema. I grab my bag and keys. I will just wander around till I find something to do. Oh! Rufus and Bee. Yeah. I will just do that.

I’ve had a really fun time shooting dinosaurs and what not. I’ve basically tried all the games here. I think it’s time I started searching for employment again. This is not the life I want. Not something so monotonous. I want some excitement. I should go to a restaurant. I have a favorite but I can’t go there dressed like this because it is usually formal and I’m wearing flowery strap shirt and hot white shorts. I slide my shades on and enter my car. I drum my fingers on the wheel while lazily looking around. Should I go home or should I just drive around? I choose home but then my dad’s face pops into my thought and I change my mind. I am driving around Adeola Odeku, cruising gently when I notice a red sports car trying so hard to overtake me. The car looks like something that would belong to a woman and for a minute, I think it is an old friend trying to play pranks on me. So, I try to catch the person in the car through the rearview mirror but fail. Well, play or no play, I’m not about to let anyone overtake me or drag space with me or whatever. I look at the different offers of excitement on the road as I continue cruising, looking for a restaurant I’ve not been to when suddenly I feel and hear a vibrant bash. Jesu. Eni lomamope were nimi.

I remove my shade and fly out of my car. “Where the hell are you rushing to?!” I scream. “Are you mad?!” I ask as I point furiously to my head. The car didn’t even try to stop. Emagbamike. Instead, it tried to bypass my car and drive away. Not today. I can take insult from my father but not from anyone else in this world. The person has not being created. I step in front of the car and it literally screeches to a halt few inches from me. Sholoyawereni. I stand for a few minutes before I realize the fool is not planning to step out of the car. Okay. I become the bigger person by walking the remaining distance between us and hit on the car. “You better come and ask for my account number you fool- I guess I forget about being a bigger person for a minute -before I bash your car cause you owe me!” I do not move from the front of the car. By this time, people have started to gather. Some guys have even started to inspect my car.

Hheeyy, madam. This na real bashing oo and as per say na from the back, you dey on your right oo. Make you stand your ground wella till police com. Na so all dis people dey misbehave anynow.’ One of those overzealous ones says.

Two things occur to me at the same time. I didn’t lock my car and my purse is inside, lying in plain sight. If it gets stolen, then I’m really screwed. Also, if I move from this position, this person will drive off. Another thing that occurs to me is that I need to call my elder brother.

“Especially when they think it’s a woman and they can ride her.” Another person chirps in.

Where did all these people come from?

I get a lucky moment when people have also started to crowd around his/her- although, I’m strongly getting a chauvinistic guy vibe- car and dash to my car. I grab my purse and pull out my phone only to find it dead and it shocks me. My phone doesn’t readily go off. It takes a moment for the shock to wear off but that’s all my culprit needs. The car speeds away with a noise and I jump into my car to follow suit. As we pass Ademola Adetokunbo enter Lekki- Epe express way enter KPMG and reach Radission, I do not know. All I know is my brother would be equally proud and ashamed of me today. I’m not going to take this bullshit this guy is dishing out.

I sha blocked him around Terra Kulture. This time I made sure I packed well. I’m so glad my car started again in the first place. My bumper is literally hanging off. I jump down for the second time today with vigor and started shouting. It seems he notices that this lady right here is not here to joke with anyone, so, he winds down and true to my previous premonition, it is a guy. “So, you are blind, abi? You did not know you bashed my car?” He started to reply me but I wasn’t ready for any excuse. See how he looks self. Like someone lent the car to him. He is as ugly as his character. So disgusting. He made me drive around after he bashed my car and he still has the effontery to be sitting there just staring at me. I dip my hand in my pocket and pull out my phone. I power it on and thank God, it comes on. As I begin to try my brother’s number, a black 2019 Ford F-150 drives slowly by and riding shotgun is a dangerously handsome guy who is trying to catch what is happening. He glances at me and at the car I am standing in front of and squints dangerously and for a very short minute, I forget my phone pressed to my ear as my gaze follows him. He presses his hand on the driver’s forearm and the car slows down but as if on cue, cars begin to honk furiously behind him and they pick up speed again.

“Hello? Where are you?” My brother asks immediately our call connects. “Come to 661”

My dad uses 661 NAF hospital. “What happened?” I ask, frantically.

“Nothing. Just come over.” He tries to sound reassuring but I can hear it very clearly in his voice. Something is terribly wrong.

I just hope to God it is not beyond our power.

One thought on “The Made 8

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