Monday, September 19, 2011

Disaster Monday: Primary Punishment

It was one of those Monday mornings when you really don't feel like doing anything’ and to say the truth, it was one of those mornings I really don't feel like parting with my fluffy pillow. Even my 5:58 alarm tone was not helping matters, I had since changed it from the boring speaking clock of my Nokia Torchie, to a feisty Bruno Mars' "Lazy song" on my .. ahem... C3 (no comment). Imagine, Bruno was making more sense, and as I slowly sang along, I was soon back in lalaland jumping hoops with Wiinie the Pooh and Christopher Robin; smurfing with the smurfs; scaling trees with Tarzan and even doing the moon dance with MJ, oooh *fans self* what a feeling.
....................2 Hours Later

WTH!!! I had since been dreaming that I had woken up and gone to the bath, delivered my early morning post to the comfort zone (you know that room with tiles all over the place? *smh) , and even applied my last fashion item (what ever that is). But oh, how wrong was I. I was still on the my bed and Bruno was still singing, WTH!!! With immediate alacrity, I shut Mars into somewhere I was too angry to remember and bolted into the bath, I didn’t even remember to deliver the post at the White House. I was late for work and I think some “wiwe” awaits me.

The ride to work was not pretty, everything got on my nerve, but thank God no one lost his/her life in the process even though the conductor guy got close. So, I got to work late enough to meet everyone busy at one thing or the other and the look was all too obvious; “the boss has need of you”. I walked the lobby on my way to the Boss’ office trying hard to amass all the excuse I could lay my hands on, but my brain wouldn’t coorporate; speak of a classic case of bad timing.  So I got there with a blank look across my face, and worse still; a blank brain to add hot water to the pepper. As his frame took form in my sight, my heart threatened to fail me, kicking against my chest like Kung fu Panda; it almost got me thinking for a while that I would spurt my innards out on the office tiles, but before all that could happen, “how was your weekend?” his voice echoed across the massive desk in his front filling the room with something I am yet to find the words for, and for a while I regained my calm and responding in a twitchy *it-was-not-my-fault* voice, “it was fine sir”, I replied.

“I just wanted to ask when you’ll be leaving us” he went on; for real? So that was it? I let out a sigh that almost knocked him off of his comfy sit. Then I could respond in my $10,000 voice, “two days from now” I responded without missing too many beats.
He discharged me without even mentioning the lateness subject. I was out of the woods now, and again I felt an internal peace. As I walked back to the main office, the memories of Emmanuel Anglican Primary School (EAPS) filtered into my head (those were the good ol’ days), I imagined my self walking through those rusty brown gates Two Minutes past Eight (8.02am), and Mr. Lawal (our limpimg math teacher) would be waiting with a brown springy "Pankere" (bamboo cane). *smh, those days were hell, it would have been better for a late comer to just forget about school that day and branch at the gamehouse till 2pm or just go back home to call his mom to help expalin the reason for the lateness (for the ajeburras). But Mr. Lawal's canning is just the pre - sensitization o, the prices of lateness at that time come in their numbers, is it cleaning of the congi infested toilets, a commission to paint the Blackboards after school or frog jumps around the massive school field, all of them interspersed with flogging sessions?  All of them may seem harsh but wait till they call you into the headmaster’s office for continued lateness; you be forced to write, cram and recite Ise Logun Ise almost fifty times (I liked to Call it the workaholic anthem), you remember that long yoruba ballad? (Ok, you don't I put it up specially for you later).

But am all big now, no more workaholic anthem for the big boy and no more anti congi operations, but I really don’t know what I would have done if a “wiwe” session went underway today. I guess I woulda just waited it through. Maybe I exaggerated, it was not really a disaster monday, I just wanted to write something, sorry for wasting your time :). XOXO. 

Disclaimer:
This post is supposed to be fiction. I dunno how much truth is in it. Provided it was not an interesting read, note, It was just an unfortunate attempt by Gbenga to prove himself as favourite against Funmi (*jealous freak), he thinks funmi has been getting all the fame.

Glossary:
Congi: A variation of Fungi
Wiwe: check here for the meaning
Ise logun ise: Read my next note for disambiguation
Mr Lawal: Well, he was really a limping fella, he caned the times table into my head (he told me then I'll thank him later; dunno if I can, 'cos I still hate number).