Brian was well seated in the sofa, calm, and collected within himself as he waited for Meyer to fetch him some hot coffee. He had wanted them to meet at a cafe but upon her request he had visited her home.She occupied a spacious two bedroom detached bungalow with double bath, a garden, and a mini pool at the back. The house was simply decorated with sizeable frames of family pictures scattered across the wall. In all of the frames Brian had identified Meyer; she still had her oval face with skinny figure. He perceived she still lived with her parents; although he had been curious to know if actually she owned the house.Brian stared at the clock on the wall and saw that the coffee she went to fetch had lingered , not until he heard a shrieking noise of oil over the fire and Meyer standing at the door putting on a sizeable apron that he knew she was preparing lunch.“I am sorry for keeping you waiting. I want you to have a taste of my food,” she obliged, smiling hugely.“But I cam
Grandma, Ciara and a few laborers were all tears when Brian drove into the compound and rushed into the ball room. He scarcely could ask anyone what the problem was because everyone was sober and all tears. He stood gaping, confused about his next line of action. Thought of Mr. Biscuit struck in his head and he made to its room, combing around for it.“Mr. Biscuit! Mr. Biscuit!” he chanted as he left its room to search in his room. The moment he opened the door, on the floor was a figure covered with a sheet. His hands convulsed massively as he squatted to unveil the figure. And when he did the lifeless body of Mr. Biscuit flashed before his eyes. The pet died the moment it stopped falling early hours in the morning. Brian stroked its fluffy hairs and felt how cold they were now. The smart dog had died with its pink tongue stuck out; it lay helplessly on the floor with all its limbs falling to the left side and a lump of blood had caked under its lower mandible. “No!!” Brian wailed
Brian gave Mr. Biscuit a befitting burial. Beside its grave he built a monument which he specially dedicated to Mr. Biscuit. Grandma didn’t honor the burial and he knew she wasn’t going to pay her last respect to a charismatic pet that served her more than most of her laborers- the wrath of losing Mr. Biscuit still hung in her heart, and Brian would have to earn grandma’s forgiveness before the center between them could hold.Other laborers who honored the last respect to Mr. Biscuit had dispersed to their duties, leaving only Ciara and Brian standing at the grave; which had; MR BISCUIT 2020-20222, eligibly written across the monument with titillating pictures of the pet and flowers littered all over.“We are going to miss it so much,” Ciara said mildly, standing beside Brain who was still all tears. She looked at his sober face and wondered if he was actually pained for the death of Mr. Biscuit or guilt of being responsible for the death; she had overheard grandma nagging at Brian
Ciara was well seated at the police station opposite detective Ben and an illuminating lantern shone across their faces as she was interrogated. She had been lying about the call she put to the police and she just had to keep lying otherwise Oliver would be implicated. Earlier she was highly infuriated to put an end to all about Oliver; she was hell-bent on snitching on Oliver with the police over his notorious cocaine peddling. Inwardly she had come to the end of the tunnel with Oliver and the best way she chose to do away with Oliver was snitching on him. She had picked up her phone, stared sternly at the 911 she just dialed, and when a voice picked it on the other end, she declined the call. She struggled within herself to keep her trembling hand to a firm hold. Her hand suddenly started shaking as one suffering from Parkinson’s disease. Her heart had increased its pressure and speed; it was not fear neither was it timidity; it was a greater force than obsession and posse
Brian was at the grave of Mr. Biscuit, staring at its picture recalling his experience with the genius pet and how much he was going to miss it; within himself he had decided not to have a pet any more Mr. Biscuit was the second and would be the last. He grinned painfully before he squatted to lay the flower at its grave. As he did and rose to his feet a slight pat from a female hand came on his shoulder.He flinched like a mouse from fire. “Oh God you startled me,” he said, rolling his eyes at Meyer. “How many times am I going to tell you to stop frequenting here? I don’t want to see you in my life neither does grandma. You embody loss and pain. Since I knew you it has been from one dilemma to the other. Your presence in my life has nurtured nothing but ruin and peril. I don’t want to hurt you. But if you force me, you will regret knowing Brian. Leave this moment,” he barked, pointing at the exit.Meyer’s eyes were welled up with tears instantly. “Why do you always make me feel lik
Oliver pulled over the scarcely lit tunnel and ear-splitting hooting of the horn came from his car, calling on the attention of the Mexican blonde standing by the corner; as soon as the blonde noticed him he started prancing to him and finally hopped into the car.Oliver greeted, “Hi what’s up.”The blonde shook his head, staring around the expensive interior of the car. “This is a new one. Congratulations, boy, your drugs and sex tape business is paying off.”“You can say that again, “Oliver beamed, “When folks like you keep patronizing me, the whole world will come bowing to me.”The blonde chuckled, dug his hand into his bag and pulled out two wads of dollars which he slapped into his palms.Oliver’s lips curved in smile. “Which of my products do you want?” he inquired.“Any sex tape?” the blonde demanded.“Yes I got a new one, well edited at the best studio in town,” he construed.“Heh, I need it unedited this time. The faces of both partners must be seen so as to attract huge vie
Grandma, Brian and Ciara were seated to a mouth-watering dish at the dining table. Ciara had informed grandma about her resignation from the farm because of her wedding which was due to take place in two days, and upon Brian’s advice grandma had hosted a dinner to bid her farewell.They ate quietly and Ciara was forced to commend the cook that prepared the food.“This is sumptuous,” she muttered, yet masticating with a rare appetite. “Who prepared this?” she paused to ask.Grandma stole a glance at Brian and her wrinkled jaw dragged in delightsome smile.Brian stared at her before a huge smile possessed his oval face as he continued munching his meal.“Your Brian did,” grandma replied, opening her mouth to the peppery barbecue that was approaching it.“I thought as much. Brian; the magical finger behind the pot. He is the best thing that has ever happened to the girl folk,” Ciara eulogized Brian and admired the dimples that sank in Brian’s cheeks the moment smiles curled up at the cor
Ciara was well seated on the last row at the back of the commercial bus. The day at school went busy and draining as usual and she couldn’t wait to question Oliver for going home without her. He had promised not to see her ply the commercial bus; that it was too demeaning and embarrassing for the girl of a rich boy. Although she always had fun exploring commercial buses, she rarely held discussions with other students who most often than not misunderstood remarks with jocular intention.She had experienced the most memorable and most intriguing moments with other students in a commercial bus; the other day two students whom she assumed to be lovers had a quiet quickie just a few inches from her spot; and at the other time a boy, a cute albino Mexican had written a love note and tossed to her. When she unfolded the note, she beheld the roughly scribbled message; Are you searching? Please marry me. She had laughed uncontrollably as other passengers glared at her unable to fathom the