MURPHY’S LAW

King of Cool

In it’s basest explanation, Murphy’s Law states that: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Ironically, everything appears to have gone very right for one Edward Regan Murphy.

You’ve heard the narrative: a black ghetto child can’t make it out the ‘hood. Eddie burst out of the hood and took over the Hills. He owned Saturday Night Live and his comedy specials, Delirious and Raw still keep audiences laughing hard, decades later. With a long list of movie classics to his credit, audiences say he’s fallen off because his more recent offerings have been more kiddie fodder than adult frolics.

I’m not going to go into detail about whether he has soared or sunk. Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion but one should consider that his kiddie movies have kept the man PAID! However, sticking to character, I digress 🙂

Why have I all of a sudden decided to write about one of the funniest famous people ever (I know non-famous people that are HIGH-larious)? Well, two reasons:

1. I caught the TV special, Eddie Murphy: One Night Only recently on Comedy Central and the tales told, tributes paid plus footage aired brought back memories of his comedic genius and also reminded me that Eddie Murphy is the definition of bad ass!

2. Of late, the unintentional comedy of Lagos ‘big boy and girldom’ has had me fascinated, so this Eddie tribute put ‘big boyism’ in perspective and the wheels started turning…

If you are unfamiliar with Lagos Big Boys and Girls, count yourself lucky (because you don’t have to put up with that BS) or unfortunate (because you’re missing out on some good comedy). Basically, they reckon they are the biggest, baddest and best at everything. They pop bottles in the club for everyone to see but what they hide is the fact they more often than you’d believe pop on credit. It’s a marriage of keeping up with the Joneses and Keeping Up Appearances. Hyacinth Bucket would be very proud.

Anyway, watching stars, past and present, share tales about Eddie (yes, he’s one of those super-duper stars with single name recognition like Michael, Elvis, Madonna, Jack, LeBron), I couldn’t help but think, ‘So called Big Boys and Big Girls, you need to STUDY Eddie Murphy to understand what it really means to be a BIG.’ To paraphrase Jay-Z, “He be the only Big Boy that the Big Boys watch!”

Two stories in particular stood out for me. One by Chris Rock and the other by Keenan Ivory Wayans.

According to Rock, himself, Eddie, Keenan and a bunch of other black guys were out and this white girl came about gushing how Eddie was her favorite, how much she loved him and all that. She really wanted to kiss Eddie and asked if she could, pointing out that she’d never kissed a black man before. As Rock tells it, Eddie responded, “Well, you can’t start at the top baby, you’re gonna have to kiss one of these broke ass niggas.”

The ‘hood’ response to that is, “Like a bawse supposed ta!” A fitting Nigerian response would be, “See levels!”

The Keenan story truly defines what you would expect a Big Boy to be. Boss of all bosses type stuff. The way Keenan put it, night clubs back in the day had a “two brotha minimum” and himself and Eddie were at the door with about 10 other black dudes. The bouncers were like, we know it’s you Eddie but we can only let like four of you in. So Eddie says no problem, instructs four members of the crew to go in and tell every beautiful woman in there that there was a party at Eddie Murphy’s house and in 10 minutes, the club emptied out and everyone headed over to Eddie’s house. About two weeks later, Eddie returned to the club about 20-deep and the ALL GOT IN!

Big Boys and Girls, real or imagined, that’s how the Biggest Boy does it. In the words of Tip Harris, “What you know about that?”

To quote my favorite writer, Bill Simmons, from this fantastic piece about Eddie on his Grantland site, “He was a [Saturday Night Live] cast member at 19, the show’s meal ticket by 20, a movie star by 21, and a full-fledged superduperstar by 22. Tell me when we’ll see that again.”

I honestly can’t tell him – can you?

 

Yes, you just read about Eddie Murphy flossing like it was a serious issue

I Am Random!

WHAT A TANGLED WEB(SITE) WE WEAVE…

Unless you have been sequestered in the mountains over the past two weeks, then you must have heard about ‘My Oga at the Top.’ You haven’t? Or you have but just don’t mind being reminded? Well, rather than ‘trying’ to explain this new phenomenon, you just have a look for yourself (again).

(Incase the video doesn’t show, try this link)

Yes. That is the video clip that over the past two weeks has sent social media engines into hyper-drive with several interpretations of the funny but sad – pathetic, even – exchange that went on in the video above. The major response to the video has been contagious laughter by the people and I, admittedly, at the very least, chuckle, with every new incarnation of this occurrence and will post some of the ones I’ve seen at the end of this entry.

However, as funny as this may appear, in all honesty, it is not a laughing matter. Yes, I’m still laughing but I think I should be crying right now, as should other Nigerians. The viral video further highlights our continued free fall as a nation. Devolution, if you will. If what occurred is put into proper perspective, we just watched the Lagos State Commandant of the Nigeria Security and Civil Defense Corps fumble his way around – within, without, over, under, through, beside… – the answer to the most basic line of questioning: What is your website? In his defense (a very lame attempt, trust me but what am I without digression?), the pedant might say he was not entirely wrong as, perhaps, he really could not categorically give one then because he was not the one going to create it; ‘it’ being ‘his’ website, as a website ‘address’ would have been the proper question but like I said, that is the pedantic view. 🙂

Anyway, as some of you may have just found out, the NSCDC stands for Nigeria Security and Civil Defense Corps. I didn’t know what it stood for before I watched this video and the friend that sent me the link, nor the others he shared it with, knew either. Or at least, no one offered a meaning. So shame on me and I guess any other Nigerian who didn’t know this. OR… is it a shame on the agency and the government (it’s always their fault, isn’t it? – that’s sarcasm, for the uninitiated) for not making themselves known? I mean, the interviewers did try to help us out by finding out the web address but we all saw how that worked out. So, I decided to find out the actual web address of the NSCDC (www.nscdc.gov.ng) and also what the outfit is about. Feel free to visit the website but here are some highlights:

The first item (at the time of posting) you see on the site, under LATEST NEWS is tagged: NSCDC DEPLOYES 5,000 PERSONNELS FOR FCT ELECTIONS

Now, I’m not sure if this is a pedantry issue as ‘speaking/writing good English’ isn’t necessarily a demand in service but it certainly helps. However, alarm bells cannot but go off in my head when I see ‘deployes’ and ‘personnels’ on the home page of a website, a national one at that. It is not very encouraging.

Anyway, moving further through the site, the first three paragraphs of the ABOUT section read thus:

“NSCDC is a para-military agency of the Government of the Federal Republic of Nigeria that is commissioned to provide measures against threat and any form of attack or disaster against the nation and its citizenry. The corps is statutorily empowered by lay Act No. 2 of 2003 and amended by Act 6 of 4th June 2007.

The Corps is empowered to institute legal proceedings by or in then and of the Attorney General of the Federation in accordance with the provisions of the constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria against any person or persons suspected to have committed an offence, maintain an armed squad in order to bear fire arms among others to strengthen the corps in the discharge of its statutory duties

The Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps was first introduced in May 1967 during the Nigerian Civil War within the then Federal Capital Territory of Lagos for the purpose of sensitization and protection of the civil populace. It was then known as Lagos Civil Defence Committee.”

Can we call Commandant Obafaiye Shem’s (yes, that’s his name) response (or lack, thereof) ‘a disaster against the nation and its citizenry?’ You decide. Moving on…

The MISSION & VISION page reads thus:

MISSION:
* Developing structures and training strategies that would contribute to the national security by using modern technology.
VISION:
* To put to work efficiency, humility and integrity in service delivery with a fresh zeal; bring credibility into concept of security.
FOCUS:
Our focus shall be in the area of broad based information networking monitoring of movement.

On the MISSION statement, modern technology like say… the internet?

On the VISION, with regards to it’s Channels Television representative’s performance: where was the efficiency, humility or integrity? There was certainly a zeal but fresh is one of the last words I’d attach to it. And let’s just steer clear of the credibility angle, shall we?

While an entire change of FOCUS is required after this interview, I guess focusing on ‘broad based information’ made little pockets of info like say… a website address, unimportant?

After surfing the NSCDC site, I decided to watch the full interview during which this gem was dropped to try and get an overall feel for what really went down. (Broken down into three parts, you can watch the interview via the channelsweb YouTube page). Commandant Shem (even his name, unfortunately for him, adds to the unintentional comedy) was in the studio to discuss the allegations of fraudulent recruitment activities existing within the NSCDC and 12 other government agencies. It starts with a report of a man (identity concealed) alleging that he was told N150,000 would secure him a job, with a N50,000 deposit and the N100,000 balance to be paid on employment. He has lost all contact with his ‘recruiter’ since the deposit was paid. To Commandant Shem’s credit, he did make, for me anyway, a valid point in this regard, asking how and why, a supposedly poor and unemployed Nigerian would find a way to raise that kind of money and give someone to get him a job. He put the figure at N400,000 – N500,000 though. So, seriously, if you can find a way to raise that much money and still hand it over for the promise of a job? I don’t know what else to say. Yes, I know times are hard and poverty is very real, causing people to act rather irrationally but… I don’t know… Moving on…

Commandant Shem, who took charge of the Lagos office three months ago after being redeployed from Katsina, was there to say that no form of employment scams existed within his agency. Watching him address questions, his internet hit makes perfect sense as it was in line with his performance up to that point and beyond. I hope you do find the time to watch this interview but below are some of the things that struck me while watching:

• When asked how he was certain there were no employment scams going on in the ranks of the NSCDC, he responded, “The truth is, if you’re an insider and you see the kind of leadership we have, you will know this kind of thing cannot take place in Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps.”

(Well… you took us inside and we’ve seen, and I doubt many of us share that confidence.)

• “If fraudster have taken advantage [of a segment of our website], fine but that does not necessarily mean that it is staff of NSCDC involved in this scam.”

(Oh, what a relief! The NSCDC is clean, so it’s totally fine that the website has been compromised and hundreds – maybe thousands – are being mislead. Great job!) 

• When asked what steps were being taken to remove possible false websites, his response: “I am the Lagos Commandant. The question you are asking can be better answered by my ogas at Abuja.” When the question was re-issued, he added, with no explanation, mind, that “they will automatically be closed.”

(Hey, you’re just the Lagos boss and it’s only, what, the main commercial hub of the country? You’re right. You absolutely should be clueless on such matters because the D in NSCDC, Lagos, doesn’t stand for ‘defence’ like it does elsewhere? Roger that! Yes, I am intentionally ignoring the automatic comment. It might turn into a whole blog entry)

• When asked if he had ever visited the website, he first hesitated, uttered a stifled grunt (that very Nigerian, “huh” that I really can’t do justice in words; sort of like “hehn”) before the question was repeated and he offered, “Most often, it’s my admin. You know I told you, I’m just three months old,  so I’m most of the time in operation.” So the question is repeated and he offers, “Personally? No. I have not.” So he is asked if he thinks he can competently talk about what’s going on on his website which he has never visited and he says, “I have staff that gives me information about what’s happening on daily basis. I can’t be in all departments.”

(I’ll leave you alone with this one…)

• He also shared this: “We have possibly the fattest and fastest intelligence gathering system in the country because we are everywhere.”

(…)

There’s a lot more where these came from but you have to see for yourself. This, for all intents and purposes, is an example of the leadership we have today. The sad part is, he might be very good at his job but just lacks the skills of self expression to effectively get his point across but watching the viral clip and the interview in itself, that position is very hard to defend. Where he could have simply said, “I don’t know” or “I’m not sure,” he opted instead to ramble on for a few seconds, forever cementing notoriety. His reassurance on the absence of scamming at the NSCDC is “confidence in its leadership.” That is what the hungry, duped, unemployed citizen you have sworn to defend is supposed to accept? That’s straight up cow’s boyfriend’s doodoo.

We’ve all laughed repeatedly at the video but what about the millions crying while the ‘fattest’ are getting fatter? Nigeria is like a 53 year old man that can’t tie his shoelaces, so he keeps tripping over himself. We are sabotaging ourselves! Where does it stop? What can we do? What do we do? Everything but give up hope but it gets harder every hour. Qualifications mean squat, it’s all about connections. ‘I don’t care about your character, I care about what you can charter and your idle chatter.’ It is a cesspool and we’re all seemingly willingly diving in; head first, ass out for easy access to never ending screwery. Yes, I can still make up words while I’m pissed.

I heard Commandant Shem has since been fired which is probably a rumor but who knows? In the military ranks, in these parts anyway, that often supposedly means redeployed to some outpost out of ‘harm’s way.’ If he’s really been fired, is he to blame, really or he’s just a product of his environment? A result of the system which chronically allows offices of import to be held by individuals who either don’t care, have no clue or both. I mean, the ‘oga pata pata at the top’ did go on CNN to say the citizenry is happy with the power situation… Which way is up?

It hurts just thinking about it, so I’m going to let go now and look for some ice cream to cool down my boiling noggin. So as promised, I will now refresh your memory with the numerous ‘social experiments’ birthed by this unfortunate incident or introduce you to them for the first time. In parting, I will say this… we need a resolution and we are the solution, we just need to find the right formula. Failure to do so, categorically speaking, would be a damn shem.

Top of the morning… or is it?

In the Hottest Seat

Incoming Call

Missed Calls (rumored to be made during the live broadcast)

High-Up Fashion

Romance

Wenger meets his match (and they didn’t qualify)

International News Interest (doctored tweet)

The Hollywood Version

And here he is, the mystery man that has been the flavor of the moment:

What do I have to do to become the oga at the top?

I Am Random!

IN MY ELEMENT

Growing up a member of the middle class, an in-built superiority complex was part of the package. Not intentional, not planned but just a by-product of the environment. You may mean well but come of as condescending or uppity instead. Sad but true. Sometimes it’s written all over my face, other times it’s in my tone and/or body language. Although, for the most part, I just do not like to be disturbed in general. If I’m having a lie down, everything I could possibly need is within grabbing distance or I convince myself I don’t need it. In other words, I don’t even like being disturbed by myself! Ask the wife, she’ll just say I’m lazy! So, don’t ask her.

Anyway, what does that have to do with anything, let alone elements, you might ask (there should be a ‘?’ somewhere in there, yeah? Not in here, out there, gosh!) Well, it’s that type of mentality – subconscious or otherwise – that has me intrigued when I hear something I wasn’t expecting to hear from certain people. Like, a taxi driver saying, “Is like this place is block! Let me just reverse back and follow an alternate route.” You can see how everything is wrong with those statements but the use of ‘alternate route’ in the right context makes me smile. Or a cleaner saying, “I didn’t like to use this type because the chemical composition of the something, wood surface doesn’t used to like that type of such.” Yes. Throwing in ‘chemical composition’ is like “WOW!”

My default setting doesn’t process them knowing how to use such terms in the proper context (shame on me), so it has me all giggly (I have a wife and child, I’m allowed the use of the odd girly term) inside. I’m like, maybe things aren’t really as bad as they seem. We just need better leadership and a more level playing field and there’s hope.

So this write up is about one such experience when I was again moved by the proper use, in context, of a turn of phrase (I wrote that last statement hoping it may be wrong and someone calling me out on it – any takers? No? Okay. Moving on…) that had me smiling. I was going my merry ole way when I came upon an accident scene featuring an animated man telling his story, at the top of his lungs, to the gathered crowd and it went a little something like this (for best effect, picture a rugged guy screaming in an annoyingly loud voice [like a bark] with saliva spraying, as his neck veins look like they’re about to pop, while gesticulating heavily, plus, if you can translate to Yoruba, all the better for the full on experience):

“I tank God say I de for my element because if I no de my element, I for done die finish for here today. Na another person for tell you this my story!”

I was seriously taken aback! He was in his element thus avoiding a possible fatal crash, amazing! It made me kind of sad to have missed the event because I would have loved to see him in his element. Was he like a Hollywood stuntman; a ninja; agile like a cat? What was his element? What did he do? How did he do it? Most of all, of course, like the word police (read: geek) I am, I was most intrigued that he knew what it meant to be in his element.

Shame on you, you condescending middle classer you!

Anyway, I broke out of my daydream to keep listening, hoping that he, or a witness, would be able to break down his element with movie like precision. And then, he explained it:

“See the okada driver way carry me, now. Shebi na ambulance come carry am now go hospital? That na because he no de in own element! You give me element make I wear but you no come wear your own element and see wetin done happen! Element de save life o!”

 

Is Form Five the middle class in Senior Secondary School?

 

I Am Random!

 

PS – I have heard it called ‘element’ on several occasions but that story never really happened. Not to me, anyway.

 

I Am Super Random!

RAT IN ME KITCHEN: THE SQUEAKUEL

NOTE: This is the concluding post of a two part entry. View the first part here.

Previously on RAT IN ME KITCHEN…

So, I’m chilling downstairs, watching bad TV and out the corner of my eye, what do I see, skip-skipetting out of the kitchen into the dining area? It’s a jet-black, fist sized, stinky, sneaky rodent!

A loose rodent is all I need right now. Paranoia sets in… I just want to make this go away quietly with the wife never finding out.

I’m upstairs spending quality time with the PS3 that night and notice something dart behind the window blinds. Ricky pops out and I reflexively leap forward as we make eye contact and he scurries back behind the blinds.

Paranoia is still in the air and the wife is heavy with child, so I decide I have to tell her.

“Darling, I have to tell you something.”  

“Oh my God! What???” she quizzes frantically.

“There’s a rat in the house…”

Thursday

So, after spending the better part of the night before consoling the wife and reassuring her that her knight in shining armor would triumph over this fearless foe, the day starts on a good-ish note. I discover Senor Ricky’s entry point behind the washing machine, where there’s an opening above the control tap for water flow. All I can find to plug it with is thick nylon (used to wrapped canned soda) and hope the intruder is outside the house at this point.

The cleaning dude comes through with some poison in powder form and starts distributing it in specific corners. I’m like, I’m sure we need to put some food out in the powder or something but he’s like, neh, the rat just comes in contact with it and its body starts to dry up…

Yeah, I was baffled as well.

So I’m like, “Surely, that has to be deadly to human beings as well, then!” And he’s like, “No, it doesn’t kill human being!” Gee, thanks Doc but that doesn’t mean it can’t make my life a living hell! Anyway, I accept the amateur diagnosis and hope for the best.

An uncomfortable wife returns home, self-conscious of every action but I confirm there has been no Ricky sighting but she still isn’t comfortable in the kitchen and won’t go in there unless I’m there too and I gotta eat, so you know how that ends up. No Ricky still, no powder looks compromised, so I tell myself I plugged the hole while he was outside and he couldn’t get back in. Score for Cheech! Carlton Banks dance!

Friday

A whole day rolls by and me no see no Ricardo Rodento so me happy so. The wife comes home and I tell her the same thing, so it’s a more relaxed household and all is well with the world again 😀

Or so I thought!

The wife’s in the kitchen, I’m in the living room and she suddenly rushes out to say she heard some rustling in the store. I move in, try to cause some commotion but get nothing. However, there’s no way she’s staying in that kitchen by her lonesome because she knows what she heard and we’re both hungry as sin!

So I post up on the high chair while she’s doing her thing. She’s at the sink, washing something when good ole Ricky runs out the store (Uh oh) under the stove (don’t go that way, Ricky, pleeeeeeeeeeease), behind the washing machine (you are going that way, doh!) and next stop should be my wife’s rubber slipper clad feet.

Not good.

I refused to panic though because I didn’t want to freak her out but the alternative didn’t look too good neither. The only thing is, he didn’t appear under the sink cabinets by her feet.

Odd.

Where’s he disappeared to? And then, just like that, he showed me his Michael Scofield-like escape route:

Behind the washer, he gets onto the water pipe, does a high wire act up it to the tap and squeezes, (as in, total compression) himself out of the tiniest of spaces exposed next to my tough nylon stuffing.

A ha!

Once his tail disappears out the hole, I calmly explain to my wife what just happened and with eyes wider than Jim Iyke‘s (just had to, sorry :D), she thanks me for sparing her the horror. (lesson to the kiddos… know the one you’re with ;)) So, I proceed to block off the exposed area with more nylon and this time leave some meat and fish on the powdery stuff for Mr. Rodent. Go into the store with Indomie Noodles on the mind, only to find… he’s eaten through a bunch of packs!!!

We retire for the night.

sigh!

Saturday

The wife normally wakes up early to get the day going, particularly with a swell breakfast. I never notice her leave as I’m such a deep sleeper but noticed her come in this morning with a sunken look on her face. Apparently, as she opened the kitchen door and turned on the lights, she was greeted by the two scrunched up nylon balls, prostrate on the floor and absent pieces of food on the powder.

It was official… we were being terrorized in our own home by a filthy critter!

I put in another call to management (I had done so earlier in the week) about our predicament and I wasn’t finding it funny any longer. Later that day, the plumber came round to have a look, left, came back with some wet cement he got from the construction workers on site and sealed off the hole.

Well, that stopped it (hopefully still just an ‘it’ and not a ‘them’ by this point) from coming back in. However, it also stopped it from getting back out, if it, indeed, was still in.

Bummer!

So, it was more scraps of food on the powder; a lot of kitchen avoidance and careful traipsing about the house on this particular Saturday.

Sunday

Entered the kitchen and all seemed in order… food still on powder, no rustling, nothing and we could relax, thanking the LORD that the blasted rat was outside when his thoroughfare was plastered! It was a blessed Sunday indeed and life in our little apartment was back to normal.

Victory dance!

Monday morning

The wife barges into the room and announces, “There’s no food on the powder!!!”

NOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

I am not speaking on this anymore.

I Am Random!

RAT IN ME KITCHEN

The title should be self explanatory but assumption is the mother of all… Also, there is that Reggae tune of the same name which is very apt. Like the singer inquires, so do I… “What am I gonna do?” Well, I know what I did and I’m going to tell you but first, some background (READ: rambling off on a tangent instead of getting straight to it)

I live on an estate in Midtown Lagos (Yaba) and it’s a rather beautiful development, if I do say so myself (even if I had absolutely nothing to do with the development or its beauty but I digress), which I christened New Jersey before I even moved in but as Lynxxx would say, “Nigeria must happen!” meaning that everything but logic is applied in running these digs. So, after all the little Frank Spencer-esque scenarios (doors falling off the hinges; security doors keeping intruders out but also trapping you in; leaking ceilings; showers that produce only hot water etc), MJ’s pal, Ben, coming to pay a visit shouldn’t be much of a surprise, eh?

The theory is that fumigation of the common areas outside would drive critters inside. Fair enough but I want the spray to kill them dead outside, otherwise, what’s the point? Why should they come inside? However, before this ‘vermin spray-day,’ the wife had reported catching a glimpse of something darting in the dark as she entered the kitchen, while I was out of town. It was an isolated random occurrence so we let it slide.

There’s a dude that comes through to help with house cleaning every Tuesday, so our story starts (yeah, this is still the background [cough]) on one such Tuesday…

Tuesday

So, I’m chilling downstairs, right (Did you just respond, “Uh huh?”), watching bad TV I’m sure, while dude is upstairs doing his cleaning thang (yeah, I’m reporting like an African-American brother, probably because I finally watched Baby Boy this week) and out the corner of my eye, what do I see, skip-skipetting out of the kitchen into the dining area?

“Oh, hell naw!”

Oh, hell yes!

It’s a jet-black, fist sized, stinky, sneaky rodent! Not sure I was eating but I lost my appetite. (Okay, nothing can make me lose my appetite). So I hollered at dude like, “Come down yo!”

(before I continue, let’s get things straight… I’m not afraid of rats, okay? What I’m afraid of is getting my toes nibbled; being climbed up [or clambered, even] by Ricky Rodent; rat in my pants; rat on my face; rat in my food; rat in my shoe… all that type of stuff, got it? So I’m not afraid of no rat, I’ll fight a rat! Where he at?)

Anyway, I tell him Ricky ran back there by the curtains, he should search him out.

No Ricky in sight.

Great!

A loose rodent is all I need right now. Paranoia sets in… ‘even if I put my feet up on the table, what if he jumps in my jeans and wiggles up and nibbles away?’

OH HELL NAW!!!

Anyway, we find not Ricky and dude says he’ll get the sticky papers that trap rats and I’m cool with that. I just want to make this go away quietly with the wife never finding out.

Wednesday

Still no Ricky but no Ricky sighting neither and all seems good, although I have it at the back of my head that he’s still in here somewhere. Wife does her kitchen thang, no shrieks or squeals, so it really seems all good till I’m upstairs spending quality time with the PS3 that night and notice something dart behind the window blinds.

‘Please let it be a cockroach,’ I beg as I go into the bathroom to retrieve and position a mop. (It was the handiest weapon, what?) I poke at the blinds; hit them repeatedly but nothing, so I’m convinced it’s all paranoia. Back to PS3 for me.

A few minutes later, Ricky pops out and I reflexively leap forward as we make eye contact and he scurries back behind the blinds.

GREAT!!! This is all I need!

A few more prods but nothing, so, my grown ass self climbs unto the coffee table and pulls up the blinds (wonder if any neighbors saw me but I haven’t noticed any quizzical glares yet – I think) but Ricky Ro is nowhere to be found. This is doing my head in.

The wife comes up a few times and never shuts the door behind her. I always make a fuss, well, more like a comment, whenever this happens but tonight, I’m anal about it. She wonders what’s gotten into me but just dismisses me and I’m slightly panicked now. I have a decision to make. I retire to our bedroom and wait for her to come up. Paranoia is still in the air and the wife is heavy with child, so all that plays in my head is:

“she’s coming up the stairs, blank expression; not thinking about anything really, then all of a sudden, a stank rodent runs by her – possibly ON her – on the stairs and she freaks out, slips, hurts herself, the baby etc (told you I was paranoid) I would just die!”

So, I decide I have to tell her. She walks in and I turn into a soap opera star. “Darling, shut the door please and try to remain calm, I have to tell you something.” You know that thing about women’s intuition? Let’s say I’m a bit firmer in my belief because immediately my words are done, she looks behind herself at the floor as she simultaneously leaps into my arms (slight exaggeration alert), “Oh my God! What???” she quizzes frantically. “There’s a rat in the house…” (cue overly dramatic background music and fade to commercial)

In the immortal words of the Governator…

I Am Random!

(concluding part coming soonest)