Inspired By True Events.
Chilling with my Xbox during the holidays and then there is a huge raucous outside my window. I rush to the scene. I should have stayed inside.
There’s a guy totally toasted lying on a stretcher. And by ‘toasted’, I don’t mean drunk ‘toasted’. I mean real ‘toasted’, like barbeque suya toasted. Burned. With skin peeling off. White flesh bare to the naked December sunlight.
There’s lots of wailing and confusion. Someone is trying to call an ambulance. No call credit. Who has credit? We have credit. Do you know the phone number? No. Who knows the number? Baba Bisi knows. Baba Bisi doesn’t know. Mama Emeka knows. Mama Emeka doesn’t know. Call Alfa. He’s the CDA chairman. No, he’s not the chairman. He lost the last CDA election. There’s a new CDA chairman. New CDA chairman? When did that happen? Who is he? It’s Mallam Bala. What? Mallam Bala? New CDA Chairman? How did he win? Does he not sell sweet and biscuit at the junction? Is he not Hausa? Is he not gay? Please someone call the hospital. No, call Pastor. No, the police. Don’t worry. He’s already dead.
Gist circulating within the crowd is that it’s a guy named ‘Bobby’. Bobby? I know Bobby. Bobby sells weed by the railway. This toasted hunk of flesh on a stretcher can’t be Bobby. Or can it? The gist gets interesting. Apparently this is what happened: