Chronicles Of A Wayward Lagos Corper – Searching for “The one” [Episode 8]
Story by WayWardPikin
After the grueling swearing in ceremony, we were now officially Corp Members, no longer PCMs. I went to the hostel exhausted and rested till evening, then went to the shoe maker to pick up my white shoes. There I saw two guys from my room, I tried to greet them but I don’t know if they didn’t see me or they did and couldn’t be bothered to respond. I wasn’t really a clique person, and it seemed like quite a number of people had formed alliances and groups that would see them through the next three weeks. I wondered if this was how my life was going to be, but I couldn’t force anything, it would have to come natural like minerals. That evening I buzzed a girl from the whatsapp group to come meet me so we could hang out. She obliged and came with two of her friends, and said she hoped I didn’t mind. I didn’t. Mami was electric as usual, the chairs were out, the speakers were blaring, and people were trooping in.
I didn’t really need the girls for anything, just needed companionship. Soon our table was full, the ladies never experretit. Next thing I order chicken and chips for each of us. The lady with me refused my offerings, that it was way too much. But I was in Lagos camp, and you only live once, so I insisted and she agreed. I drank three bottles of Orijin, she drank three bottles of Snapp, her friends drank three bottles of small Stout each. It was a really swell evening and soon they were on their feet dancing, swayed by the music and the alcohol swimming in their systems, not to mention the chicken and chips. Me and the girl I called were engaged in idle conversation when my phone rang – it was Hajia. I looked around me in case maybe she had seen me but I couldn’t see her. I hesitated and didn’t pick her call. I knew if I invited her to join me she wouldn’t, being a Hajia and all. So I was determined to enjoy myself and go see her when I was through. At the back of my mind I wondered where Nife would be at the moment. I had forgotten to collect her number ealier in the day.
Runtown’s ‘Mad Over You’ started playing and the girls went wild, including the one I was talking to. They increased the velocity with which they gyrated while I sat in my chair watching them and feeling like a boss – like a young Hugh Hefner in his very own playboy mansion.
A few tables away, my roommates watched with their jaws touching the floor. A legend had just been born.
NP – Leg Over – Mr Eazi
To be continued soo