Dancing Tomatoes

I think the first thing you must know is that this is the most disgusting letter you are ever going to read, considering that we never talk to each other like this. I apologize in advance and promise that we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to Actually, we are NEVER talking about this letter; get that into your empty eggshell skull.

Also, please Bello musn’t see this letter. I am actually begging you for this one. You see, one time, I told him I will give him N100,000 if I ever wrote a love letter to anyone, even my mom. And it isn’t as if I don’t have the money o (please can you stop laughing), but Bello will spend it all on Schnapps. Yes, all of it. I just want to look out for my friend’s liver. (oh… and also I don’t have the money).

So…….

I love you.

Come, calm down abeg. I mean that I love you intensely but also in the most hey-i-love-you-so-how-do-my-shoes-look kind of way, or in a do-you-know-i-really-love-you-and-also-that-banging-your-head-on-the-wall-helps-you-burn-calories kind of way. So, just calm down.

This is funny. I’m trying to write this ‘feelings’ letter to you and all I can think of is you and your shovel teeth laughing at me. It’s not funny. Do you know that this is how some women chase away their husbands; chase away good guys?

Chill…. Let me un-see you laughing at me.

Done.

Here goes (I’m going to just say this in one breath so read it in a passive-aggressive tone) :

You are the second best thing that has happened to me in my entire life (the best is that Jesus died for me). You make me so happy that sometimes it feels illegal to be privy to something like your friendship. I think all your stupid thoughts are so cute that sometimes I forget to be grateful that I’m not as stupid as you are. I love you; there I said it again. And please don’t be silly by asking me what I mean by the phrase because what do I not mean by the phrase? Anyway, I mean that although we banter a lot, I’ve got you. I mean that I always rethink all my choices and actions before I take them, just to ensure that they don’t affect you negatively (yes yes, I’ll get the name-calling under control, ode). I mean that I never have to think once before giving you something I own; even if it’s the only one I have (I can already hear you saying, ‘Too bad. I would have asked you for a future but you don’t have one’. Don’t be stupid, please.) I mean that I want to make you happy for the longest time; that I want to die before you so I wouldn’t have to live without you (I know! Lines!); that I never forget to pray for you; and finally that you’re the only one on earth who can make me dance to my toes.

On that last point, I have to elaborate. Do you know that before I met you, I only used to bop my head to music? But you came with all your stressful liveliness and infectious vibes and made it that every inch of my body moves to music when I’m with you (Ugh… I read this over and it sounds so disgusting).

Anyway, you got me to the point where I’d start to bop my head, per usual, and then both my shoulders would start to move up and down, then my chest starts to huff up and down like it’s being worked by a defibrillator, then my waist moves however the music flows, then my entire lower limb just flies around. That was all you!

But I’m writing this letter to you today because something weird happened. You called me and told me you wanted us to go and see The Hitman’s Bodyguard tomorrow, and I unconsciously did the entire dance… and then some – I wiggled my toes too!

Big head, because of you, I’m now dancing to my toes.

(oh crap, I just read that over and realized that you won’t pass up the opportunity to nickname me ‘Dancing Tomatoes’.

Shock me, don’t be your crappy self, and just resist the urge to do that. Would you?)

_____________

This is the first fiction piece in my latest category: Moyo & I.

Moyo is an actual person. He was my classmate in secondary school. Now he’s a bright young man who may think I’m a creep because the day I saw him in church (after not having seen him in years) I shrieked and yelled, ‘Oh my God! Look at how cute you are!’ (No guys, you should see this dude – like a teddy bear!).

Anyway, we’ve had this thing for a while where one of us sends the other person a random phrase and a deadline. Both of us are then required to cook up an article on that topic and turn it in before or on the deadline. It has been lit. 

So my Moyo & I articles are basically my own submission. Like this one; he came up with the ridiculous topic and gave today as the deadline. Here is his own submission.