I’m Never Going To Be Blackmailed Into Going To A Hair Salon Again…

I am sitting in a goddamned hair salon, eyes glued to my laptop but ears wide open, and steadily getting as angry as Obasanjo when he realized that his third term plot was going to be shot down by the usually incompetent National Assembly. I really don’t know what the hell I am doing here but having been blackmailed into coming here by a female friend; I have resigned myself to approximately three hours of mental anguish and the chance to plot my sweet revenge against her!

Fast forward to the near future… Most of the women in the salon have been glancing at me somewhat suspiciously since I came in. I have been catching their furtive looks but I have feigned ignorance or innocence, depending on how you look at it. They must think I’m a private investigator for a consortium of husbands and boyfriends who are looking for dirty info on their partners. Thank God for my nice, boyish (somehow) looks! I wisely plugged my earphones into the laptop and I am pretending to watch a movie while waiting for the object of my revenge to finish ‘constructing’ her hair. She’s embarking on an ambitious project, having ‘maga-ed’ her boyfriend out of N7,000 to do her hair. I really wonder how women manage to do it, walking about with nearly one kilogram of hair for upwards of two weeks. My hair starts to itch if I don’t cut it in a period of eight days at the max!

Omo, women have issues in this life o! Hair salons are dedicated gossip centres. It amazes me how women find it easy to wash their (and others’) dirty linen in public without any regard for who is listening. In the two hours I have been here, I have overheard them discussing everything from who is fornicating with who, to how many times their husbands manage to get ‘it’ up in a week! How I heard? What kind of dumbass question is that? No audio was coming out from my laptop, nah? I muted the thing and was listening to juicy gossip! Ha! If it was you, lie that you wouldn’t do the same thing! Just lie!

See groove o! One woman/old girl has been regaling her audience (me included) of how she was propositioned by one Yoruba money-bag who offered her upwards of N2million to spend a weekend with him in Abuja. She must have embellished the story because she gave her half-sceptical/half-envious audience the impression that the guy was practically rolling in the mud and pulling his hair out in a bid to jump into her pants. I felt her story was a goddamned heap of buffalo semen because I didn’t see why anyone would want to sleep with her ugly, unsexy self so desperately when there are finer, less-expensive ‘ashis’ on Isaac John street in Ikeja. Na lie jare! N2million and she supposedly refused? Dem born am well?

Meanwhile, it appears the others don’t want N2million (that’s the nickname I’ve chosen for her) to upstage them, so stories of similar exploits are flying left, right and center. The stories are steadily becoming more outlandish with each account and I’m tempted to tell all them old ‘adam-tempters’ to shut their goddamned yaps! I look at ‘you-have-spoiled-my-Saturday’ (my friend) and notice that she is engrossed in the lies that are flying about and to make matters worse, the female who’s constructing her hair is also absorbed in the gossip that she is practically working in slow motion… I’m going to be here for a long time!

The suspicious looks have pretty much ceased. It appears that my boyish charms have won the day! I’m able to carry out my reconnaissance mission without a great deal of trouble and I’m getting a bit of insight into the workings of the female mind! It is pretty disturbing, I must tell you… My plan of getting married to a female for the rest of my life to satisfy the incessant demands of my family and acquaintances has just suffered a major blow!

Chei!!! One woman just finished telling one disgustingly funny story! I almost blew my cover by bursting out in laughter as the story reached its climax. It took every last atom of self control I have in my body to stop myself from being lynched by nearly 12 females! There are few deaths worse than that!

Okay, the story… Apparently, a single mother of one who was in her mid-40’s invited her newest male partner to spend the weekend at her place. Unfortunately for them all, her 20-something year old daughter took a fancy to the fella and started scheming on how to snatch him from her mother. It didn’t help matters that the guy was a cashed-up businessman and I imagine this factor more than influenced the brat.

On Sunday morning, mother went out to church alone as her bobo was a Muslim and her daughter must have been training to be the anti-Christ and didn’t like going to church. She hadn’t gone very far when she had a flat tire (funny how these things happen) and in the process of trying to change it, she muddied up herself and she cancelled going to church for that day. She managed to change the tyre and on getting home, she opened the door with her key only to find her daughter spread-eagled on her new dining table with her ‘man’ doing the nasty with her. (Note to would-be fornicators: Always bolt the door from the inside before you START!) Neighbours who managed to save the daughter from her Michael Aadoonkaa-type, frothing-from-the-mouth madness swore that they had to remove a TV remote control from the girl’s ‘snatch’ after her mom shoved the length of the gadget down it! Laugh wan kill me die!

Well, to cut the long story short, I managed to will the hair stylist to finish with the construction of the hair and I stumbled out of that hell-hole after around 3 hours and 23 minutes (yes, I timed it!)

Never again!