Guest Post || Mumu for Le boo...


*uncorks chilled bottle of beer*

You know the saying that goes “..when the person that has your mumu button locates you, its all over for you..”? Yeah, that’s some annoyingly true sh*t right there. Dating le Boo is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. (Ok that’s after sliced bread). Anyways the point is that I was so head over heels in that annoying L-word, so for the sake of my reputation (player), I’m going to skip out a lot and focus on one fateful Saturday. 
Le Boo had been down with malaria for some time and it got so serious that I had to take her home. On getting back to my house, I did my laundry and remembered that she had a pile of laundry left unwashed due to her critical condition. I wrapped up my Saturday chores and headed over to her place to help her with them. I had activated my  “pamper” button so I did not want her to return after her serious malaria, only to be burdened with washing. I packed them all and headed for the dry-cleaner’s. On getting there, the guy was not around so I had to take them home to wash myself. *sips beer*.

So as I was saying, I had made up my mind to wash them. I then got a bar of soap from her cupboard of toiletries and set to the task. In her room of-course. There was something on my mind which kept bothering me, but I could not place a finger on it. It kept hitting my subconscious for some time.  Halfway into the task, it struck me.

Washing the clothes was no problem at all….It was hanging them out to dry (feminine garments) …in the open…in the full glare of neighbors that was made up of tatafo people who knew me as a frequent visitor…way too frequent. At this point, I would like to explicitly specify that I did not wash pant, or bra. I swear, all I handled was tops, skirts, pants (trousers), camisoles and one bum short. *refills beer glass*

So, as I was saying, I was in a dilemma. After washing the clothes, or garments if you’d like, hanging them out to dry became a problem because I did not intend to get tagged with names like woman wrapper, pussy nigger, pussy ass nigger, mumu guy. So I rinsed them, packed them in a bucket then sat down

*sips beer*.

At this point, I started to brainstorm on how to go about this herculean task of taking them downstairs to dry. *belch* excuse me.

A couple of ideas crossed my mind. One of them was throwing them at pinpoint accuracy from the second floor to land on the line. And hope no one sees me in the process. Impossible.

Another idea was to do it Clark Kent style, at super speed in a split second, so that all anyone would have seen was only a blur of brown body and a magical appearance of clothes on the line. Impossible too.

I then thought of setting off the fire alarm so everyone would assemble at the muster points towards the front of the building. Then I could quickly do “the deed”. Too risky.

After 10 minutes of hard thinking, I came up with a plan. Technically, it was genius. All I had to do was wait till nightfall….pitch black darkness and do it. That way, anyone who saw me would neither recognize me nor the type of clothes I would be hanging out on the clothesline. I smiled to myself and went about fixing a late lunch. After preparing the food, I settled down to dine with a movie on le boo‘s laptop. Don John. Great movie. By the time the hands of the clock hit 8 pm, it was dark enough outside but there were two strategically positioned, 100W energy saving bulbs at the backyard. The glow of the bulbs flooded and lit up the backyard like a stadium. Even a blind person would see me with lights that bright. PHCN usually did their thing by 9 pm so I was forced to wait one more hour. As luck would have it, by 8:56 pm, the whole district was plunged into darkness, with the only lights coming from moving headlights out front and a telecomms mast a couple hundred feet away. This was my chance! I swung into action, snatching the bucket of wet clothes, I unlatched the door and sprinted down the hallway towards the staircase. I was neither wearing footwear, nor a shirt. In the process I knocked over the her neighbor’s kerosene lamp and banged my left foot against a cupboard. Sizzling pain shot through my left pinky toe, but I refused to let it deter me from my mission.  I gritted my teeth and covered the remaining distance to the top of the staircase. Using months of experience, I bounded down the steps in the dark, taking them two at a time in fluid athletic motions. On getting to the first floor, I heard voices from below coming closer really fast! I stopped dead in my tracks and quickly dropped the bucket. I whipped out my cellphone and walked away from the bucket, disowning it in the process. They climbed up with their flash lights and one of them paused at the bucket for a split second, probably wondering what it was doing there. They murmured greetings to me as they passed and I hoped to heavens that they did not notice my wet hands. As soon they rounded the corner, I snatched the bucket and cleared the remaining steps and ran to the backyard. I slipped out and pressed myself against the hostel wall. I listened hard for anyone around, frantically scanning the yard with my eyes. At this point, my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The cold air bit into my chest but I couldn’t care less. I was like a 007 agent, a man on a mission. On pronouncing the yard clear, I hurried to the clothesline and in less than twenty seconds, I had spread fifteen of the clothes,  working like a robot. I reached for the last of the clothes..

“My brother, how you dey?” Came a voice from behind. With reflexes as sharp as a cat, I let go of the tank top and spun around to face a middle aged woman. How did she come up from behind so noiselessly? I thought to myself.

“Madam good evening” I responded, holding my breath. I could feel the cold sweat starting to form on my back. I banked on the fact that since it was dark, she would not recognize me. I was wrong. “How our wife?” She asked, referring to le boo. My throat went dry. I swallowed hard before attempting to speak.

“She dey fine.” I managed to croak out of my parched throat. She then went about her business, leaving me alone. I was wrong again on thinking I was alone. As my pupils fully dilated, I started making out the silhouettes of two girls sitting against the wall, just a few feet from me. I was forced to greet them. I was pretty sure my cover was not blown with them because of the distance between us. I continued spreading out what was left, doing it haphazardly, without bothering to squeeze out the water. I felt triumphant when I reduced the pile to just one. As I bent to get the bumshot, I heard the unmistakable whine of the hostel backup power generator as it spurred to life. I turned to a pillar of salt. I had totally forgotten about the backup gen programmed to automatically turn on after sixty seconds. Shit! In the next split seconds I contemplated dashing back inside, out of sight, or quickly throwing the bumshots on the line and sprint inside. I chose the latter. After-all they had no I idea who I was. As I poised to hoist it over the line, the bloody generator groaned and released all 220Volts and 20KVA of of electricity to the damned hostel. The energy savers came on, perfectly illuminating the yard….with the girls and woman in it…with me in it…bare chested….barefooted….holding up a wet and really skimpy bumshot….up in the air….like a trophy. I’ll stop there.

I never told le boo the story and she is currently vexed with me for not visiting her in her hostel for the past six months.

Please I need your advice. What do I do? Help a brother out.
 Written by
Amerigo Bonasera 

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6 thoughts

  1. bros I'm sure they have forgotten by now, doh take heart. Hahaha like a trophy. Just tell your girlfriend the story

  2. lol. Xo hilarious... busy body people.

  3. Hahahaha. This is funny. He must have been really embarassed. Oga boss it is well.

  4. HahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahqhahHahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahqhah..........*breathes * hahahahahahahahaha

  5. Lmaooooooo! This literally killed me! Oh my! Love how witty the writer is. And the sips beer, belch parts and all of that. Lol I can't! Beautiful write - up. Lol.

  6. This is very hilarious sir, am that kind of guy that don't care what ppl say oooo, so far my Le Boo didn't say it, anything wey them talk na #StoryforTheGods, b'cos as soon as I wash them finish naxo I go bone face go spread am ontop the line shikena, but you try wella oooo, I envy your plan it was a very nice plan, but that GEN sha! All is well okay, and try and tell you Le Boo abi wetin una dey call them this day!

    ...Eedris signed out.


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