It was a chilly Saturday morning with minimal humidity. The dusty hamattan wind simulatneously chilled and dried up everything in its wake, right from the Sahara to the western coast of Africa. It was one of those mornings which you dared not bathe with cold water, despite the scorching sun. Yet, there I was, powerfully threading through water with the breaststroke I had then perfected.
I had long developed chicken skin, but with each stroke, my muscles produced enough heat to eliminate the goosebumps. I swam alone in the general pool of my company’s quarters. A few white men lounged in the bar, puffing smoke and nursing drinks. They occasionally glanced my way, probably wondering who the black mad man was.
Swimming is one activity that helps me let off steam and brainstorm. My team and I at the office had been battling with a serious problem with setting a location for a particular oil well. I kept doing my thing, spanning the whole length of the pool. I was smack in the center when the solution hit me. It came rushing at my subconscious, a powerful force I couldn’t ignore. I immediately altered my trajectory, hauled myself out of the pool and bolted for my flat, leaving a trail of water in my wake.
In less than five minutes I had changed and was doing sixty five miles per hour in the ever busy Port-Harcourt city. I decided against calling my colleagues, just in case I was wrong. I was not, I felt it in my gut. This was going to be big. I skidded to a stop and tossed the ever present security guy my car keys to help me park properly. One of the numerous favors I got by parting with a few naira notes here and there. I displayed my ID to the computer and gained access to the facility. Taking the stairs three at a time, I reached the topmost floor, matching the elevator speed. I did that often at work just for the look of surprise on a colleague’s face when he stepped out of the elevator.
The security panel for that floor required a level 6 clearance. I pocketed my level 3 card and flipped out Nnamdi’s card. Due to the nature of our project, Nnamdi always gave his card to any member of our team who needed access. I worked pretty late the day before, so I still had it on me.
I stepped into the much cooler environment and stopped dead on my tracks. I heard a sound inside. Only a handful of people were allowed here and they rarely came up here, much less on a Saturday. I cocked my head, straining to hear again. Nothing. Probably a figment of my imagination. I went over to the supercomputers and powered two of them up. Then I heard laughter. I was sure this time. Someone else was here. The muffled giggles traveled down the hallway. I wished the computers would boot faster because I did not want anyone asking any questions I did not feel like answering. As soon as the first computer came on, I typed my login details but they did not work. Damn, I had to reconnect the ethernet cables. They were always disconnected physically as a security measure against hackers.
I started to sprint towards the ethernet room I heard a soft moan, followed by another. I shook my head in disgust. Hypocrites, watching porn after preaching that it was against company policy. There was just one open door. That had to be the source of the moans. I decided to peek first and make sure the culprit was not facing the door so I could pass unnoticed and not get embarrassed on his behalf. As I leaned and took a look, what I saw shocked me to the bone.
The MD himself, shirtless and sweaty atop Funke, the new, pretty intern. They both faced down and backed the door. His black, hairy ass (hairiest I’ve ever seen) kept bobbing up and down. It was a wonder how he was able to move his obese self with such agility. At this point, I had occupied the doorway. Just as I was about to slip away, his eyes caught mine through the reflection of the glass cabinet in his office. Like a cat, he sprang off Funke and grabbed a file off his table to shield his pelvic region. He was staring at me in shock, wide-eyed, sweating like Oshiomole. Funke, still oblivious of my presence rolled herself over and gave me the view of my life. She probably thought he wanted to change his kpuncha position. As she saw me, she did her own springing and scurried to the MD’s back in shame, using him as a shield. We stood there for the next few seconds, staring at each other, without a word. Not that I was judging him, but his wife was the HR manager of the same branch. This was the man whom everyone treated like a god. We were always on tip toe around him.
I forgot about the ethernet and walked away. I would do what I needed to do using my workstation. It would only be slower using a normal computer, I did not mind. Neither of us have said a word about it. He just gets awkward in my prescence and barely maintains eye contact with me.
The next monday, I received a raise in salary. It’s still a wonder why. The next week I got promoted. God has been so faithful to me. I bless his name. I just want to use this medium to share my testimony. Thanks for reading.
Written by
Amerigo Bonasera
Labels: FunnyFriday, Guest post
