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The good Samaritan by YakekponoAbasi Adams

Once upon a time, there was a lady who flagged down a car on the wee hours of a Saturday morning.


“Excuse me, kind sir, can you please give me a ride?”


“Where are you headed?”


“I’m going to XYZ bus stop.”


“Oh well. I’ll pass through there. Get in.”


Lady B thanked Mr. V as she hopped into the Lamborghini Veneno. The features of the car set Lady B’s brain on fire; unfortunately, Mr. V had his wedding band on. She gritted her teeth, bad market. Doing married men wasn’t her thing – it never led her anywhere.


Lady V took a closer look at Mr. V. He was dressed in sleek designers from head to toe. Her heart began to race faster and she was sweating despite the air conditioning.


“Are you alright, Miss?”


“Yes, I get these attacks sometimes. It’s a phase; it’ll pass.”


“Alright. If you say so.”


Wow, what a wow! She couldn’t believe her ears. He didn’t care to take the discussion further? She knew she didn’t look bad at all. Men turned heads whenever she passed by them. Mr. V had to be pretending, she was very sure.


“Here we are. Do well to enjoy the rest of your day, Miss.”


His voiced jerked her out of her thoughts. She had been buried so deep in her subconscious that she lost track of the distance they had covered. She looked around and realized that they were at XYZ bus stop.


That was it. He’d definitely want to exchange contacts before she got down from the car. Taking all the time she wanted in the world, she slowly opened the car door and stepped down. Nothing. She closed the car door. Nothing.


“Thank you so much. I do hope you have a nice day as well.”


He simply nodded. She was about to close the car door, reluctantly holding the handle. Nothing. She actually closed the car door. Still nothing. She was about to walk away when something in her clicked. She waved at Mr. V and walked over to driver’s side of the car, where he was seated.


As soon as Mr. V wound-down the glass, Lady B became very dramatic. She held him by the neck and began to scream.


“You must give me my money. Give my money to me, give me my money.”


“Wh…aa…tttt i….ssss….wwwwrroo…nnnggg wit…..h yyyoouuu? Are you crazy?”, stammered the flabbergasted Mr. V.


“We had an agreement and you want to back out of it now? Give me my money o. You must give me my money today.”


Meanwhile, concerned citizens had already gathered, their ears itching to hear the story. It was a Saturday morning and a woman dragged a man, insisting to be paid. They had done the math already, and of course concluded that the woman was right. After all, what kind of woman would stage such a scenario, willing to be identified as a prostitute, if she wasn’t one?


The good Samaritan came down from the car amidst jeers from the crowd.


“Oga, pay am na.”


“You don chop finish, you no wan wash plate. Na so them dey do?”


“Why you fall our hands like this na?”


On the other hand, Lady B really didn’t give a rat’s ass on the insults and curses which were thrown at her.


“Shameless woman.”


“Ashawo wey no dey shame.”


“Idiot. You dey sleep with married men abi.”


And there were the inbetweeners who were neither here nor there.


“E don happen, e don happen.”


“We no dey when they do am.”


“Make una carry una stupidity commot from here.”


Mr. V couldn’t bear it any longer. He had never been so humiliated in his entire life before then. When had helping out a stranger become a crime? If his wife and daughter got to hear about such a situation, would they believe his own side of the story?


He had to do something before the news flew home. After some minutes of racking his brain on how to get himself out of the mess, a brilliant idea hit him.


“Miss, what’s the color of my briefs?”, Mr. V asked Lady B.


“What sort of silly question is that?”, retorted Lady B.


“You claim we banged last night, yea? Well then, it shouldn’t be difficult for you to know what my briefs look like, isn’t that right?”


“Erm, erm, erm…”


“Really? You don’t seem to find your tongue, what’s the matter? Okay, am I wearing a singlet or not? Which hotel did I take you to and where is it located? I’m willing to strip right now if you answer the question on the color of my briefs.”


No answers were forthcoming from Lady B.  She looked as if she had just seen a ghost. The crowd jeered at her and made fun of her. Everyone realized whom she really was – a con artist. As Mr. V thanked his stars for such an idea and walked back into his car, he made up his mind that he’d never help strangers. Children chanted ‘thief o, thief’ and followed Lady B as she walked away in shame.


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