Birthday Bed
“Bed bed bed, put you to bed, bed bed bed” was singing beneath my closed mouth as I was anticipating the blissful conjugation of the long arm of the clock to 12 and the short arm to 5. Would have played the music of J Holiday out loud if not for company policy against music: What kinda crap company makes a policy against “Bed”!? Sickening thoughts. My enthusiasm to leave work was as a consequent of the SMS I got earlier. The text message that triggered the holocaust, a message that could make Hitler’s dead body(wherever it is), want to have a one night stand with a Jew of Abrahamic descent. “Honey, I’m waiting for you. The bed is well laid for your birthday *wink*” was the message from my 6 month old wife. I don’t understand why women of these days love to put a man in trouble on the day I was born; I could have jumped from the 11th floor if not for security interventions.
My shirt was soaked in sweat as I lost control of my body. I wasn’t coordinated whatsoever and my mind, soul and body were fixed on the prize. A prize I gave lots of yam tubers and kegs of palmwine to get. If you think its beans, try marrying from the eastern part of Nigeria. Stock market wedding ceremonies. When you have a babe that is a lawyer at the top of her game with a big legal firm, believe me, you will invest.
Exit time came; I rushed down to my car, with the smile of an idiot that just saw food; beaming with glorious incalculable glee. We got married months ago and work has been so hectic for both me and the lil lady holding up my ring in her finger, but through it all, we still try to find time to be naughty and keep the fire burning; it’s not like mine ever died. We seldom have sex, we only make love (whatever you term that to be). I was already picturing the whole scenario in my head and forgot to even reply my boss when he said “Birthday boy, you’ll be working on the report at home right, should I be expecting something tomorrow?”. “Report fire!” I said behind sealed lips.
Started the car engine and turned on the stereo for some inspiration. “O ya Funke, Pakurumo”, I turned it off immediately. What kinda person in my soggy bottom condition would wanna pakurumo? I remembered I had an iPhone (my only phone) and at the stage, I knew my head wasn’t in the right place. Stuck earphones into my head and jailed J Holiday into a prison of replay.
Every Lagosians’ second wife was out again, Lady Traffic. So demoralising, but the song on repeat kept me going. I was feeling the song, didn’t look, almost hit the red Kia Picanto beside me, whose driver shouted “Are you mad?”, to which I replied “Baba e!”, knowing fully well that it was my fault; his car was looking like a glorified boxy Pringles case. It’s a Lagos thing, even when you drive like a moron, you retain the moral stand to curse and abuse. Then salvation came; Danfo nuisance was the cause and it was cleared on time. I fired my 2 year old Honda accord to the maximum. Third Mainland Bridge was unusually free and I knew the deities were on my side. They know what’s up.
My phone rang and it was my wife, I didn’t pick up because I wanted the suspense and fire to stay breathing. I was going to get some dragons to breathe more flame into the fire. What is quality birthday love making without some giant scented candles and some chocolate boxes with a bottle of champagne? Nothing. I stopped by at the store to grab all that, because the house supplies were out. I changed the music to “Spanish eyes” by Backstreet Boys as I smiled to the cashier. How on earth did she know I was on a mission? A mission I signed up for; paid for: For life. She smiled like she could see right through me. Maybe because I was in an obviously unusual hurry.
Got into the corner of the street and I could see the roof of my house at the horizon, my heart skipped a beat and a rush of blood left my head downstream. Got a beep on my phone from the little bride and I knew I was late, but I had more than enough to make it up. Checked the message and it was still enough to start a civil war and turn Hitler impotent. “Pick your phone honey *kill joy* your parents just came in, said they’re here for your birthday”
