With Alan Kay

Let’s go straight to the point; because, apart from Charles my friend, I don’t want other guys who will join us soon to know anything about my extended family’s hullabaloo.”

“Kay, must you blow grammar over this little quarrel between your sister and her husband? And besides, Kunle, her statutory owner, is a member of our beer parlour parliament. So, your judgement in this case can never be fair. A drunk will always rule in favour of a drunk.”

“Charles, I’m afraid you are a man of little faith. Who told you I cannot resolve the crisis between Mary and her husband? If I am going to rule in favour of husband because he’s a fellow beer drinker, will I not also support his wife because she is my blood sister?”

“You crook; I know you’ll always find an escape route. Okay, before your peace-keeping mission, kindly tell Joy, your tenderly built bar attendant to give us our drips of beer, criminally cold, mortuary standard.”

“Ah! uncle, stop saying such a bad thing. Why are you pronouncing mortuary on the drinks you people want to take?” (The men laugh).

“Look, Mary, don’t mind Charles; he is an Ajegunle Boy. So expect any refined gutter word from him…yes, by the way, what’s the cause of problem between you and your husband?”

“Thank you, brother. On Tuesday, last week, I went to see my tailor at Surulere, to gear her up in sewing my aso ebi ahead of that funeral slated for the weekend. So I took another route on my way home, only to see this miserable-looking woman at a beer joint with my husband…”

“What did she do and how miserable could she have looked?”

“Thank you Uncle Charles. Can you imagine that this woman was smooching my husband where he sat? She planted her big-for-nothing, God-forsaken breasts on his neck.”

“She planted…mmm…when she is not a farmer. Anyway, Mary, I know how troubled you could be over this matter. As my sister, I know the extent to which you can get upset over a thing like this. But this woman in question, what’s her age like?”

“I think she should be over 40…And to think that she did not want to let go when I called out on my husband…Oh, I will report her to the God that I serve!”

“Don’t get worked up lady, Kay will resolve it. He’s an expert in that area. But you have been taking your soft drink since, with nothing to tantalise it. Let Joy give you a plate of stock-fish pepper soup; just don’t mind its excessive ‘pepperishness’.”

“Grammatical Charles. You won’t kill us with your impossible coinage. Okay, dear Mary, this is my verdict: your husband is not promiscuous. That lady that seized his neck with her mammary is well known to me. If I were there, she would do the same to me. She is the owner of the beer parlour. That is her marketing strategy to retain male customers.”

“Through romance with other people’s husbands? So, brother, you are birds of the same feather…in fact, I shouldn’t have brought my case here.”

“You have not allowed me to land…this lady is called Container, a name in honour of her outward endowments, both on the torso and in the waist region. But I respect her for one thing: if you toast her or overstep your bounds while she is playing with you, she will just finish you up, with polite insults.”

“Oh, you mean it? But she is making a mistake; how many wives will understand that she is harmless? So, I better forget about the issue.”

“Didn’t I tell you that your brother will resolve the quarrel? Kay, please, we need to replace our bottles, they have leaked. And above all, my beer appetite is sharp today.”

“Is it because of Governor Lucky Aiyedatiwa’s 18-0 resounding victory over his main opponent, Agboola Ajayi, or the prospect of your brother coming tops in the forthcoming local government election?”

“Well, leave the governor’s victory out of it; since the INEC declared him winner of the contest, we have all been exuberant, drinking from one beer parlour to the other, because of the good tidings his victory has brought Ondo State. As for my brother gearing to be on the ballot in the coming local government election, that’s a familiar turf for him.

“So why then are you donning this excitedly bewitching mien, putting up the chubby look of a cat following a successful hunting expedition?”

“Well, let me help you move close to guessing right…hic…you see, the source of my joy is largely domesticated and corporately futuristic, as per having a good child that will fend for you at midnight of life…”

“Oh, lest I forget, what’s the outcome of your daughter’s joint matriculation exams she sat for sometimes ago?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? You male witch! How come you guessed right? She passed with good scores. She’ll soon gain admission into one of these universities.”

“Great! She resembles her dad, but not with excessive beer drinking and unbeatable lewd talks.”

(Mary comments) “Uncle, congrats o! No wonder, you have been very happy since.”

“Why would he not be happy? By the time the brilliant babe graduates from the University with flying colours, she will probably go and become First Lady to a pot-bellied governor.”

“That will be great! All I need do is to convert one of the Government House chalets into a club house, filled with assorted, eternally chilled beer.”

“And at the appropriate time, the EFCC will launch a manhunt for you and your in-law ex-governor, to answer to charges of illegal diversion of public funds to beer drinking!