Wrong Printer

The topic for today is ‘Sent to the Wrong Printer’. So, it’s 1:21pm and I’m in the middle of some unusually overwhelming work. A part of my brain keeps blinking *you don’t even know what you’re going to write for your article today* *you’re hungry, go and eat* *what food?* *maybe rice?* *we eat rice every day in this country!* You get sha. I was worried about my stomach and my blog. And then Rilwan’s comment on ‘Mystery Cookie’ came in. and I just paused, shook my head and said ‘Thank you Rilwan, for the inspiration’


So, the burial was on Friday. I had Saturday and Sunday to decide whether or not I wanted to go back to work. Someone just killed himself because he wanted to. He was probably feeling depressed over how ugly he looked that he decided to end his own life. Who knows? But he then, wrote a letter telling everyone that I pushed him to his death. Honestly, even if I did, everyone knows that the act of committing suicide shows a disregard for those you leave behind.

I kept thinking on how I was going to face my colleagues at work. Burials are actually very depressing. Despite the fact that I was pissed at Sanusi and I even stayed outside the cemetery, you can’t get over seeing someone’s mother weep. When she came out of the cemetery, she just stopped, looked back, frowned and started crying all together. Like, ‘Why would he kill himself?’ Then she saw me and I saw anger flash in her eyes. But like I said, his parents are graceful people. She did not attack me.

It felt as though everyone was attacking me though. In fact, I started imagining things. When I went to church, the usher did not shake my hand. Only me. She was shaking other people. Even the child in front of me that just picked his nose. She shook him. But she did not shake me.

When I was frying chicken in the evening, it burnt. My deep fryer, on a normal day, takes its time. But it burnt. Even when I got frustrated and ordered for pizza, they got my order wrong.

This morning, I woke up and actually said a prayer. ‘Dear Lord, you said I should call on you when I need your help. Well, I need you to be here for me. Literally. Please let the rapture occur! And Now!’ It’s embarrassing to say but I covered my ears in anticipation of the sound of the trumpet. But nah.

At work, thankfully or unthankfully, customers were not calling. I remembered that I read somewhere that writing is therapeutic. So I decided to write something, at least to help my sanity. Here’s what I wrote.

                   ‘They say that to write a great story, you should write the truest sentence first. Write the truest sentence and then you can build everything around it.  Well, Sanusi is dead. That’s the truest sentence I know. That’s one of the truest sentences I know. Other true sentences are

  • He was such an idiot
  • I’m sort of happy he died
  • He had body odor
  • I’m just kidding, I’m not happy he died. I’m just really mad at him for making me look bad.
  • I hate my boss
  • I’m really hungry
  • I miss boozuru
  • I’m a very twisted person.

    Speaking on being twisted, an idea just came to my head. I should actually kill Sanusi. Since I’ve taken all the underserved ‘credit’ for ending the life of a depressed ignoramus, I should actually just kill him for real.

                                        Report on How I (actually) Kill Sanusi

      His breathing was slow and labored. Just as I wanted. I like the way I tied his hands in front of him. Then I put superglue on both palms. Not gum. Glue. It looked like he was begging me.

This was my first kill but it sure as hell won’t be my last. Like an animal, Sanusi whimpered and made inaudible noises. Actually, if I tried hard enough, I probably would have heard him pledge all his meager savings in exchange for his life which I was about to take. But I didn’t have the patience to try to listen to him. Dude sure had a lot of blood. I had cut off both of his tiny toes as I tied him to the chair in the uncompleted building I lured him into. If boys get stupider as they grow, then Sanusi was one grown-ass almost decomposing man. His fake love for me totally blinded him.

Anyway, as the blood flowed on the floor, I began my very well-rehearsed speech


Me: Sanusi, do you know why you’re here?

Sanusi: *Whimpers like a scared dog*

Me: That’s right. You’re here because you’re about to do something very foolish. Do you know what that is, Sanusi?

Sanusi: *Whimpering Continues*

Me: No? I’ll tell you. *stands up, walks over to Sanusi, and runs the blunt side of the knife across his neck* You’re about to kill yourself Sanusi.

Sanusi: *Begins to violently wiggle*

Me: Ah… don’t worry. I won’t kill you. You’ll do it yourself.


I then slipped the blade through his already glued palms. He sort of screamed. Then, when the knife had gone fully through his bleeding palms with the tail of the knife on one end and the pointy part facing his belly, I held and guided his hand to his stomach and started stabbing violently. He was grunting or screaming. I have no idea what that was.

He soon gave up… the ghost and the screaming. My face was covered with blood. But I felt nothing less than victory.

You see, I had just killed two birds (or two generations of idiots), with one knife.  Everything worked out fine. He wasn’t going to lie in his suicide letter; he still committed suicide; he got me involved in his death story (which he always wanted) and I still got to stand outside the cemetery. Only this time, it was out of respect to his graceful parents. ‘

That was what I wrote. When I read it over, I felt… I don’t know. Joy? Like I had been purged of all my sorrows. I decided to print my first work of literary creativity. I thought ‘who knows what this story might do for me in the later future.’

But the later future was not too far. About three minutes after I supposedly sent the document to the printer I thought I sent it to, my boss called me and said, ‘I forgive you that you wrote that you hate me. I forgive you that you had the nerve to send this write up to me. But for that horrifying massacre of that poor deceased young man; get the hell out of this office and never come back here again’

 *Ahhh! I’m so happy that I got to post this article at 12:15am. Even though it’s technically the next day, I’m happy I won the battle against sleep and tiredness. *dances the African Woman Fire Dance*

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