The whole thing started in the city cafeteria
When they met at the counter to cut a drink.
Was she African? American? Many would ask and think.
But she reminded him of the Miss Planet in his old college magazine:
An eloquent curvy blonde with a seductive smile,
Light-blue eyes, unblemished, glittering like diamond,
rolling majestically in their sockets.
And thick hair falling on her mane, an epitome of an Indian goddess’.
Then as if a spell, her fine looks crippled his very aim.
Enchanting her with sweet words all days as they came.
Pretermitting his parents’ words, acting to be all ears,
Praying not, but only asking for her “Yes”,
And winning her at last, he rejoiced all day in tears,
Then the first night they hoped to share together came.
Driving her into his mansion and seeing all the luxuries,
She whispers “Oh goodness!”, with lips as red as a crimson stain!
Backing her to the bedroom and never looking back,
a thick hand rested a trigger on his scalp
And like the speed of lighting, six huge ugly figures bumped in,
with masked faces, guns in hands and amulets adorning their necks.
And his heart somersaulted as she kissed the trigger man with a smile
And with their commands, he buried his face on the terrazzo floor,
Lying there motionless like a fresh corpse, groaning in fear,
Lying there, picturing how they commanded each door opened.
And with the wife of the gangster leading the way,
They fled away with all his years of sweat.
For what looked like years,
He jerked out of bed in pants soaked with rivulets of sweat,
trembling and eyes soon turning red and darting about aimlessly.
Dashed to his briefcases but found them as they were.
And realising it was all dream,
He sank into the nearby sofa and muttered “Oh thank you, Baba Lord.”
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Featured image credits to kart_r from Pixabay
