Looking at it from a neutral point, I guess I can understand how some women, married or otherwise, would find him attractive.
Forget the fact that he was my friend. I’m not one of those prejudiced women. I didn’t need a soothsayer to tell me that Manny was a magnificent hunk of a guy. He was tall, dark-complexioned, and with muscles in all the right places. His tummy was so flat that you could see all the flat planes and probably be able to write a love poem on it.
He had a special way of barbing his hair and trimming his facial beard, which makes a girl want to tweak his cheeks. I’m not particularly one of those babes that like guys with beards, but I like guys who usually clean shave. I love the abrasiveness of the cheeks and chin as I caress.
Oh gosh, please don’t get me started on what it does to my….hummm…let’s not get carried away here, okay?
Some people claimed he died an ignoble death. But hey, what is that…death na death…there’s no good or bad death. The point is that you’re gone…yamutu…
I heard that Manny staggered home that fateful day, raving and ranting like a drunken idiot. He was full of noise and fury, but all signified nothing to his siblings. Before they knew it, he was burning up. They called a nurse, who quickly fixed him a drip. Manny had always been a strong guy. In fact, he was as strong as a horse. I bet that was why nobody suspected or believed that the strange sickness would defeat him.
He was in a fitful sleep, tossing and turning, muttering to himself, when his siblings quietly walked out of the room. Their mistake! Someone ought to have stayed and watched him. But they didn’t.
We later heard that neighbours were attracted and rushed out of their homes, when they heard a commotion. They saw Manny, barely in his boxers, rolling and jerking on the hard, dusty ground.
Right in front of their building. He was clutching his drip and muttering the name of a woman.
He was rushed to a nearby hospital. When his siblings came to pay him a visit, he told them to tell his mother that a woman killed him. He died after uttering such strange words.
Investigations by his family members revealed that the name of the woman he was muttering was a woman selling paraga (alcohol, mixed with roots) on their street. Though Manny was in his early thirties, the woman was quite older than him.
Everyone insisted that Manny’s death was a strange one. His family members were the zealots of this belief. They went in search of what killed Manny in his prime. They came back but wouldn’t say or tell anyone about their discovery. Everything was shrouded in secrecy.
It was however only a matter of time before we heard. Yes O! Magun! Of all things, who would ever have thought of Magun?
Further stories began to filter in. We heard that he and this paraga woman had been banging each other like dogs in heat for months abi na years?
Incidentally, the woman was supposed to be a happily married person. But she apparently didn’t see anything wrong in taking Manny every time to her matrimonial home and bed, to grease her honey well.
Manny was just like any other guy. They hardly shy or run away from free food, abi na awuf I go call such feminine delicacies? The bad thing about awuf be say e dey run or tear belle!
People gossiped and whispered that Manny had even chopped the woman more than the man that paid her bride price. How? Good question my dear friends. I also asked how? Abi the woman just wed her husband.
Nay! The truth was that anytime the man leaves home for the office, Manny, jobless, would resume work. Jumping like antelope on every corner of the huge bed. He knew all the G spots on the woman’s body. Some bad belle people even claimed that they used to hear the woman, crying: “Give it to me hard! Give it to me Hard! No stop! Don’t stop! Bah Stop!”
