Jesus Christ and Bruce Lee

On this faithful day I was pursued by a beastly dog and was saved by Bruce Lee and Jesus Christ.

Some days are rather unexciting, this day in particular was proving to be a real bummer so I made a firm decision to do something positively engaging rather than wallow in drudgery and porn (kidding!). I was in Lagos Mainland so I decided to take a leisure stroll through a quiet residential part of Surulere. I have been taking leisure strolls usually lasting over an hour for years, overtime I have developed enviable endurance worthy of embarrassing a camel and challenging those Kenyans athletes that only win marathon events at the Olympics.

The weather was perfect; windy. My selected location was serene and upper class. I grabbed my mobile phone, my wallet and ATM card (never leave the house without cash, I learnt the hard way the day I wound up in the great company of our amazing police officers and had only N75 in my pocket. I became intimately familiar with their station’s interior before the end of the day), shoved my feet into my ridiculously pricey slippers (never smile at a pretty sales girl, they are adept at financial witchcraft) and set out.

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NO CHANGE

no-change

Food. Food. I need food RIGHT NOW. I’m hungry, so hungry I even started picturing grub I would ordinarily never touch with a 10ft short pole. I had to consciously shove a mental image of Amala into my mental bin from whence it came. My vision was all shade of blurry and it felt as if I had got a kg of salt dissolving on my tongue. I stumble drunkenly towards the nearest cafeteria.

“Do you have rice?” I half-growled. No response, I repeated my request a little louder, disdain heavy in my voice. What, I was hungry.

“Ehn and?” came the irritated reply.

I looked up to the source of the sound and my eyes focused on the ugliest lips man has ever been forced to bear and a sullen face that would have given a bulldog pause. I may be hungry but that voice irked me greatly and I had to quell the urge to barbecue her stupid face. I pointed to plantain, coleslaw, a ginormous fish tail and a pack of orange juice. I was beyond speech. My bill came out at N1350. I grabbed my wallet and drooped two one thousand Naira notes on the counter.

“Ehn! What for? I DONT HAVE CHANGE O“. She spat in that irksome voice.

OK, that is it. I have had it. I grabbed the scythe hanging loosely but out of sight in my duster pocket and made quick messy work of her jugular. Her neck spurting crimson wonderment, I leveled a dispassionate stare at her twitching dying body. I calmly grabbed my plate of food and drink and walked away. On second thoughts, I turned back, grabbed my two thousand Naira crisp note off the table and put into my respectful wallet. Tsk!

"Ehen! No change na"
Ehen! No change na

Not all of that was fiction (I have eyes still for the Oscar for best screen-play). The “no change” bug seems to have caught on in Nigeria; from the road-side Madam Tuale restaurant and commercial vehicles to established businesses. Hear what a columnist of Thisday newspaper has to say about it;

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