Tag Archives: short story

Werewolves and Jesus

Scary Werewolf

Scary Werewolf (Photo credit: martin.grondin)

English: Possible representation of the Werewo...

English: Possible representation of the Werewolf Español: Representación de un Hombre lobo. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Master was already bushed after the voyage. The trip was supposed to be his siesta period, as he finds a rocking boat in sea storms particularly lulling. However, the Enchanted Writer, who was also a physician and shared the Master’s habit of snoozing in storms, was feeling insomniac today. This meant that the Master Jesus was kept awake by mind-blurring questions.
See –the Enchanted Writer who is also a doctor of the human mind is not really as dull as his many questions make him out to be. In fact his questions make the learned ones seem dumb. The Master loved him. He reminded the Master of when he (the Master) was younger and had amazing adventures sitting at table with and questioning various spiritual leaders of various sects –from the ancient sorcerers and Asthoretheans to the New Age and Zen Instructors. The Master knew the cardinal teachings and practices of all. He became a somewhat notably controversial fellow whose questions dazed foundations of beliefs. In fact, the Master had been known on occasion to turn suddenly to face his very own followers and question the validity of their beliefs. The Master was just all by himself in a very different class. He wasn’t one to indulge religious dogmatism or so crazy for a large fan base that he’d tolerate just anything. He really did not “give an ant’s piss”. He was just… just himself!!!
Now and then, one could observe the Master pat the Enchanted Writer’s shoulder whilst gazing fondly into his eyes as the writer engages him.
That gaze!!!
That gaze –was what the Enchanted Writer was daydreaming about when John tapped him. “We are ashore.”
It was a quiet and peaceful countryside. So quiet it was eerie.

Out of the woods suddenly leapt two werewolves bounded for the Master’s team. Out came silver swords and guns with silver bullets as the disciples of the Master braced up for the encounter. Near drew the werewolves as they prepared to strike. But, up went the Master Jesus’ arms as the werewolves froze in their tracks. The Enchanted Writer was enthralled by the Master’s act and he already began to take notes analysing what psychic technique(s) the Master must have used. And when the Master engaged the werewolves in a conversation, the physician was amazed.
“Who are you?” the Master asked. “We are a legion of spirits because we are many. We used the arithmetic principle of division and the physical principle of compression we were taught during military training at Camp Hades. So we are evenly distributed into these two humans. Please let us torment your fable-misguided disciples a bit and show them how useless their silver toys are.” replied the demons. The Master finalized “A talkative lot you also are. Now, I know you are expecting me to ask how you’d rather be dealt with, and favour your plea to send you into the herd of swine over there. Then, after you possess and make the pigs drown in the water, you will be free to continue your demonic adventures. But, let’s get creative. I am banishing you right now into the sea to forever roam its depths, doomed to inhabit the hollows of its soul.” So depressed were the demons that they couldn’t even scream as they tore away from the two men who became calm and regained their normal human forms.
Then out of the woods came the natives of the region who had for long been serving the Wolf-god. They would have asked the Master to save them completely and bring sanity to their lives. Instead they are shocked by the power the Master wielded. They would have asked that the Master bring them in on his secret, but they were angry with the Master for getting rid of their former protectors. Did they not know that the Master who got rid of these werewolves was more powerful than them? That stands to reason, doesn’t it? Surely it stands to reason.
Reasoning these issues did the Enchanted Writer as he leaned over the Master’s right thigh on their way back after being begged to leave the region by the poor natives! Poor souls!

P.S.: These things have I, the Physician and Writer, witnessed and documented for proof in the Biblical book of Luke 8:22-39

Deepest Desires

Erythrocebus patas in San Francisco Zoo

Two days later…
Enchanted Primate (in a calm mood): Bro, do you know the first thoughts that came to your mind after your birth?
Enchanted Writer (slightly puzzled, but also a bit light-hearted from the evening breeze): Uh, I do not know for sure.

Enchanted Primate (in a calm mood): Bro, what of your very last thoughts before passing out in sleep last night?

Enchanted Writer (appeared lost in thought for a while, brows furrowed, right hand supporting chin): Err, bro, the thoughts became fuzzy as sleep grazed in, but I remember thinking about how delicious dinner was.

Enchanted Primate (in a solemn mood): Bro, two nights ago as you were gathering sticks for the fire to roast the termites for our dinner, you accidentally tampered with a mamba’s tail. What were your last thoughts as the mamba about sank its fangs into your nose, before I knocked it off your face?

Enchanted Writer (chest heaving, eyes unblinking, left hand supporting chin): Hmm, I thought about how I was going to miss the fat termites waiting to be roasted for dinner. And I should say thanks again for saving my head there.

Enchanted Primate (nods in acknowledgement of the writer’s gratitude): One of your own species, a Great One I heard, once said that: your deepest thoughts and mind’s preoccupation will be on what/where you consider most important. Your heart is where your treasure is.
What do you make of that?

Then the monkey lets go of the branch he was holding onto, leaps jauntily along the shore to the other side where the party animals are raving, leaving the writer sitting on the branch of their tree house,
Looking steadily out at the beachy summer-sunsetty horizon,
Head tilted to the right,
Chin supported by the right hand,
Breathing slightly heavily,
Obviously lost in thought.
Whilst the monkey raves on with the rest of the animals,
On the other side of the shore.
And happy termites swarm the dusky space.

Life’s sad insanity

Lonely Fisherman

“Stop it! Don’t let Him catch you doing that!”
“Cheer up,Pal! You don’t want them to see you hurting!”
“She just told you it’s never going to work out between u two!
But, eh! You are the man! Hold your head up!”…
That’s just the way it is. Tell the world YOU have it all together.
Show the golden foot; hide the clayey.
That’s the way we ride; until the day we die.
Some are good actors at it, I guess!
But, I have never been together.
I stuff up; and before I reach the toilet, the shit’s in my pants!
I get dirty; and after I use d bathtub, the bathroom’s flooded.
I cover up my wounds with cracked crusts and soiled bandages.
And beneath the pretentious pride, I am puffed up with deep bleeding.

///The drought laughs on at the farmer’s promising harvest;
The rain rushes in on Christmas party’s dry morning.
People play in d beautiful meadows in d evening cool;
People labour in the ugly desert in d midday heat.
Some are adrift by the summersunsetty beach;
Some are afloat by the thunderstormy sea.
Isn’t this world a crazy place/stage/an asylum///.

We are actors PRETENDING to be MADMEN on this stage.
Unsurprisingly, we play our roles splendidly well.
Whilst all the madness resident among us eat at us with un-sane appetite.
Till all my brain’s gone, and I’m left with my heart.
Now, this is the part where I’m fed up; and start running out of the Nightmare Theatre.
And suddenly, I’m staring in the face of the Peace-Giver.
I was uncertain, as a bride about to enter the bedchamber on the consummation evening.
But then, the Healer looked at me, as a bridegroom looks at his lady.
I lose my practised pretence, cool, and wits;
I throw my hands, lift my face, and open the only heart left.

That’s just the way she is?

He found her on a night out. He went just to catch some fun with his friends. There was nothing special about her. She was just your everyday call-girl!
She was on business! He was on wine!
He took her to “somewhere more private”. Unfortunately -or fortunately, whichever -he collapsed on top of her. Some kindda sex it was! He was dead-drunk. She robbed him, not of his sperms, but of his money.
The next day, he went to the shopping mall. She was the sales girl. He was a client. He asked her out. What did she stand to lose? Of course she remembered him from the previous night. He didn’t.
They went out in the evening. They had a fun-evening. She enjoyed his company. He enjoyed hers. And she got back just in time for her night duty!
They had many more lovely evenings thereafter.
As the days went by, they got closer. She began to see another life; a more meaningful one; a more stable one. She didn’t have to bargain over her body and grace for a few notes.this guy appeared to have liked something about her. She hadn’t felt that strange in a while. She didn’t have to give something to get something. She only had to BE; she only had to be available; she only had to just be herself. What exactly he liked about her she had asked him many times. But, no matter how hard he tried explaining, she just couldn’t understand it. He treated her gently; he cared for her welfare; he made her remember days she had forgotten; days before her father died; days when she felt alive; when life was more than cycles of orgasms and spasms of pleasure.
She could really get used to this soothing new season of her life.
One night, it all seemed to happen at once! She was feeling she needed a different line of excitement tonight; she had a spontaneous idea to do a “remembrance” of her past life, just to see how it would feel now; she also had a flicker of doubt -how that someone could just love her; how less complicated life suddenly was; how “unreal” it all seemed. She just seemed to forget how real his touch was; how hard he had tried convincing her that he was real.
A trip to the “hot spot” and her fate for the night was sealed. It was as if she became a different person. (I would have said a new person, except that she had been here before.) She seemed to still have all her wiles and wits about her. The perfect seductress. She damned the consequences at that moment. There was a different fire burning inside her. She was literally on heat. She had her wild night of fun!
The following day she got up. There was a phone call. It was he. She rushed to the shower, where the night’s memories washed over her afresh. She poured out her shock to the cold shower. She washed thoroughly. She still felt dirty.
He took her out. She soon lost herself in his world. That is hard not to do if you had a guy like that. She told herself she didn’t mean to make a private fool of the man. She gave herself to his reality, finding consolation only in the truth that he loved her. She felt love again. She felt free. She felt clean.
The morning after that, she found herself on the toilet floor. And when she saw that small rod-shaped balloon, she knew what must have happened again the previous night; after such a day. She felt crushed as the reality of this new curse dawned on her. Is she meant to be like this? Is she unlovable? Is she unstable as water? Is she a confirmed slave to this night-life, her fatal alter-ego?
And so it was! She would live by day; die by night. It was a kindda inevitable death for her.
And then one night he caught her. (I am not sure I should go into all the details. And I guess he knew she must have been doing it. There were tell-tale signs.)
He left; she wept. For days after, she kept begging him. In the drama of it all, she completely lost the taste for that night-life. She felt frankly desolate. She had never felt so cold, so alone, so dirty all her life. Yet, he had left without even a word of condemnation.
The guy was torn! He couldn’t believe he was wrong. He had thought you only had to give anyone enough love and they would be better for it. He suffered a terrible episode of depression. He was quite kind enough to always pick the phone calls from her.
They eventually reconciled.
Fast forward… One month later, exactly the same series of events had taken place!
It was then the guy’s turn to wonder if he had been cursed with a fatal affection for this girl. His self-preservation suggested against it. His friends just kept off; he didn’t discuss it with them.
Funny thing was that-the guy had another girl who was crazy for him, but he didn’t just choose her. Now after every heartcrush, it was the other nice girl that would be there to care for the guy. But, in no time, he would be back with our dear heroine.
On the night that was to be their first year since they met, the guy had bought a lovely (not diamond) engagement ring. He had made all sorts of preparations for a “magical” night! So, up he went to her house. He had his key to the house. In the spirit of the surprise, he quietly unlocked the door. Cries like that of a girl being raped reached his ears from the bedroom upstairs. He rushed up the stairs in fright and fury, broke through the door and found his woman in a fit of orgasm. Her cries were cries of pain alright. Sweet pain! He staggered and slumped at the door. The sound didn’t even seem to disrupt the “burning” going on atop the bed. Both the slumping and the thumping ended about the same time. Their eyes met. The guy’s pain was as unmistakeable as the girl’s guilt. She slumped! (I guess we can safely assume the proverbial camel’s back is definitely broken at long last.)
Funny she tried calling to explain later. But, what was she to say? Half of her was so ripped she found herself halfway through suicide more than once. The other half reasoned with her it was over, and she can finally get back to “reality”. To a life of cycles of orgasms and spasms of pleasure!

The Last Stand: A prayer for Medicine and Surgery Graduating Class 2009, UCH, Nigeria. (Story 2)

We were packed like sardines into FLT,then CBN(lecture theatres)
Freshers so green,ripe fruits stalked by wide-eyed foxes
We graduated,into PLT&ALT(lecture theatres), visiting cadavers and hearing “words of wisdom”
Recognized medics,we began to flaunt LABORATORY coats&ginormous textbooks
Till Mighty MB1 maimed many,some surviving, others ordered out
Elegant gaits now cautious gaits,we crept out of the Cadavers’ Cradle
Then Fearsome MB2 parted some from us on the firm Path
The survivors just managed to crawl out of the Nightmare Farm
Then we kneeled at the altar of mercy,before merciless MB3 came to demand sacrifices of our lives
Indeed,Deathwrecker’s arrows glided into our midst&painful sacrifices fulfilled
But great mercies spared the rest who wriggled out of stillbirth
And whose torsos now prostrate before the throne of love
For MB4,the terrible Bonecrusher is to break in
And not a muscle will shift,not a lid will close the eye
Not a breath will be unbaited,every heart will be violently palpitating
For God alone it will take to hold our heads up

So many fishes have swam the ocean of time,many gold watches bought&replaced
The confident who came in tough-headed was hammered to bloody caput
Some have successfully done business,others successfully undone by business
Some who came in wedded divorced,others lonesome hearts were comforted
Many ladies have fought over dashing suave bachelors,many men have fought over exquisitely smashing spinsters
Many prophets busted&mountain-buried forever,others found God never to let go
We have witnessed politics and politicizing
We have even witnessed poli-tickling and poli-tricking
Histories have become scars,scars have become history
And now we are making history,to become history ourselves
While some write lifebooks(autobiographies) that will be forgotten
And some forget to write in the book of life
Dear God,I pray,just give me a job in your house as a House Officer
Or employ me as your Family Physician
Aah!!!Whatever Lordy!!!
Just secure tomorrow ,PLEASE.