THE CHRONICLES X: Nadia's Nemesis 3

Shocked eyes all around the auditorium stared wildly at her; eyes that knew her and eyes that didn’t. Some students burst into laughter; others just looked in surprise at the chick that had just mesmerized the atmosphere.

Then its stench hit the air.

Nadia watched in hotly amplified embarrassment as people gasped at the nasty stink; some ran out of the auditorium, some hurled insults at her while others just laughed at her keeping their distance from ‘ground zero’ where she sat.

Nadia buried her faced in her palms. The lioness in her had died; the fierce thugness that lived in her was instantly choked to death. She had become vulnerable.
She buried her shameful face into her arms on the desk, stewing in the stench of her own fart.

A year later
The graduation ceremony was a colorful one. There was festivity and celebration in the air.
Wilson straightened his suit and graduation gown as he walked to the stage to shake the hand of the Vice Chancellor and collect his degree.

Outside the huge theatre hall where the event took place, families, friends and loved ones gathered around graduands to celebrate and take photographs.

Moments later, Wilson handed his academic gown to his younger brother, excused himself from his jubilant family and took a stroll to the gents. 
On his way he had to pass by one of the lecture halls of the Administrative Faculty.
He had hardly strolled by when he saw her sitting at an extreme end inside the hall, buried deep in books.
He went in and walked over to where she sat. 
She was dressed in a pair of ankle-length jeans, a flowery blouse and canoe shaped flat heeled loafers. Her face had no make-up, and she wore a pair of silver rimmed spectacles. Her hair had been neatly tied back in a bun.
He stood firm behind her desk. If he hadn’t taken a close look, he wouldn’t have recognized her.
‘Hello Nadia’
She jumped, held her chest and looked up.
‘Wilson! You startled me!’

He drew up a chair and sat next to her.
‘Nadia, I can’t believe it’s you. You’ve changed!’

‘Hmm…thanks’. Her eyes were back in her book.

‘What happened? You just disappeared and we never saw you around the faculty again.’

‘That’s because I changed my course, department and faculty.’


‘I needed to.’ She turned a page. Wilson noticed her fingers bore no nail paint and her nails had been trimmed short.

‘I was surprised that you weren’t graduating. What…’
He didn’t finish. She slammed the book shut, interrupting him and turned to face him.

‘Wilson, lets just say I’ve gotten wiser and finally found myself.’

‘Oh…Okay. I get you. Hey, how about joining me and the boys, we’ll be having an after grad party at the…’

‘Sorry. I don’t do parties anymore’.

She began packing her books into a rucksack.

Wilson watched her, speechless and confused.

This was not the Nadia he knew. Something had happened to her. She had become a bookish freak. Her sensual and seductive look had given way to a conservative one. She no longer cut the picture of the sassy, sexy, uninhibited and naughty vixen who had ruled the campus queens. She was now a different Nadia – a reserved, less fashionable and introverted nerd; all her loud and exaggerated beauty had been buried; as if it had been choked to death; it’s like she had undergone a personality plastic surgery.

All Wilson knew was that she had disappeared from the scene in the Social Sciences Faculty after some unclear and rumored incident a year ago, only to resurface in the Administration Faculty. 

He helped her with the rest of her books. She took them, smiled, murmured her thanks and walked away in quikened strides that lacked the grace of a seductress' catwalk as she was usually accustomed to. 

Wilson stood by the desk and watched her walk away. He suddenly felt uneasy, hot and stuffy inside his suit. He wanted to go after her and talk to her more but a strong instinct told him to let go. He watched Nadia turn a corner round the building and disappear from sight, questioning thoughts bombarding his mind over her strange metamorphosis.

© Lolu Kush (Afronuts) - Story
© Kimson Masters - Illustrations

12 Screamer(s):

THE CHRONICLES X: Nadia's Nemesis 2

‘S…sorry. I w…was looking…I thought…Oh sh*t! ’ he rambled and cursed incoherently searching his brain for the right words to apply to the awkward situation.

‘If you’re looking for any of the girls, they’ve all gone out. Now would you mind shutting the door on your way out?’ She answered curtly without taking her eyes off the mirror.

‘You sure?’ His voice seemed to have changed. His hand which rested on the doorknob seemed eager to shut door – but with him inside and not outside the room.

Nadia sighed, a wry smile played at the edge of her lips. She knew his type. He was the opportunist; the one that desperately scratched every forsaken surface and corner for the slightest moment to jump the bones of anything that had the female anatomy; the type that had ‘Pervert’ written all over him.

The building rage in her intensified. It became a lethal combination of that against the Prof. that called her bluff and the hungry ‘dog’ of a dude leering lustfully at her nakedness. She ignored a sudden rumble in her stomach and starred hard at his reflection in the mirror, her face wore a cold and deadly look.

‘Of course I’m cock sure! Unless you want to receive ‘maximum shishi’ from all the chicks in this hall for attempting to rape a harmless girl?’ Her harsh rasping voice seemed to work like magic as she watched his reflection become first flushed with fear then transit into that of embarrassment. Hastily he opened the door and bolted out murmuring a barely audible ‘sorry’.

‘Maximu Shi shi’.

Every student dreaded that word. It was the insane jungle justice meted out by irate students against any offender that posed a threat to the ‘sanity’ of life and politics on campus. Those who had received this treatment bore scars that testified of their ordeal, scars that made intending ‘enfant terribles’ to rethink their brat status.

She walked to the door, bolted it and made for the wardrobe. Minutes later she walked out of the room, sporting a pair of blue three-quarter jeans laced at the bottom with a red jumper T-shirt which apart from sparingly bearing some cleavage, showcased her well-toned belly plus a cutely curved navel. Except for a bright red lipstick, she wore no other make-up. She didn’t need to. She knew quite well that even if she woke up early in the morning with dried up spittle caking on both sides of her cheeks and her hair all standing up like an electrocution victim, she’d still look drop dead gorgeous.

She cat-walked scandalously, drawing eyes of lust from every male and jealous rage from every female that caught sight of her. Despite looking like a beauty that needed all the randy ‘knights’ in 'rusted amour' to do her bidding, she also had a dark side which had been nurtured from her heydays as a tomboy.

Nadia had a secondary school history of being the neighborhood brat. She had once broken into her class teacher’s office in the after hours of school after a childish seduction of the gateman whom she teased with the promise of a ‘good time’ - a well garnished lie of course.
She succeeded in getting into her teacher’s office, laying hold of her test papers and forging her test scores to favorable ones.
At another time, she had stolen one of the school’s official stamps in order to be able to create fake permission slips to be let out through the school gate, her true destination being the numerous parties and hang outs with delinquent friends from other schools.

Yes. Nadia was a brat in the past, with a thug mindset. She loved to dress like a boy and smoke like one until puberty rode hard on her and she felt her hormones and body raging out of control. Her body couldn’t assume its masculine look anymore. Suddenly she had breasts and her hips fleshed out; her face underwent rapid metamorphosis and a beauty she never knew was there, was born.
Suddenly, her boyish clothes didn’t fit anymore; she looked out of place where she had once reigned. Even the guys who saw her as an ally now saw her as an ‘opportunity’, and worse of all, she had to carry those ‘diapers’ called ‘Tampax’ around with her when it was time to host the notorious ‘Aunt Flo’.

But when life opens a different chapter, you’ve got no choice but to adjust. Nadia did just that and what she initially despised, became her tool; her means to many ends and a seductive weapon of destruction.

Tonight, she was on her way to perform the rites she had never in her life imagined she’d have to do in a long time – read for the reluctant professor’s exam.
All efforts to tune free marks and good grades in her favour had failed. She had tried other channels, other academic influences she had romped with for the benefit of her grades but unfortunately the lecturer was way too powerful to be sidetracked. He wielded the reins of power amongst a mafia of strong minded likes. How he did it, she would never know. Even the cult boys on campus refused her request to get him to ‘agree’ to her wants. She recollected her discussion with Wilson, the Capone of the campus’ most dreaded fraternity. He owed her a favour for all the ‘service’ she had rendered at his lavish parties, not to talk of giving him a ‘dose’ of what she was made of. She had watched as Wilson’s face break into a volley of sweat when she mentioned the lecturer’s name; he immediately refused before she even finished. She had requested to know the reason for the refusal but he refused to tell her anymore. (Later she would find out that the professor was Wilson’s Uncle) She realized she had reached a dead end.

For the first time in her entire school life, she felt helpless. It was either she studied for that paper or carried it over. She was fast approaching the depressive state. She buried herself in her curse - successive meals of beans now and again to throw her mind off her worries.

She strolled gingerly along the gangway corridor that connected the different departments in the Faculty of Social Sciences. Auditoriums and classes where well lit for the evening and had some students warming up for coming exams.

The whole studious act was totally alien to her.

Her stomach rumbled violently and for a moment she paused and grabbed hold of one of the poles along the dimly lit corridor. The rumbling subsided and she continued her trip.
She eventually found an auditorium that had just a very scanty number of students in it studying for the exams.
She found a seat somewhere in the middle of the auditorium and went about her business.
She opened her notebooks; notes that were written in another’s handwriting - She had been too lazy to write notes and had paid someone to write her them for her.

She stared hard at the pages, visibly terrified. They were totally alien to her. Weeks of ‘stabbing’ classes were beginning to show in her inability to comprehend the notes before her.
She flipped the pages somewhat hoping she could find somewhere to pick up from.

At that moment more students trickled into the auditorium to read for the night. Nadia didn’t take much notice. She fumed at her notes as if they had failed her. She couldn’t understand what the heck she was reading.
She grew tense and her palms became moist – something that always happened whenever she was nervous.
Another rumble sounded in her belly.
Why was it hard for her to read this? What’s the big deal with reading written notes?

Gradually it dawned on her. This was one of those courses where there was no way you could fully understand the notes if you were never in class.

Her palms moistened the more and stained the pages.
Her breathing quickened as her heart beat rapidly in tune to the realization.
Her stomach rumbled violently as she turned the pages blindly not knowing what to do.

Then she lost control…and farted loudly.

It echoed throughout the whole auditorium...

To be continued....

© Lolu Kush (Afronuts) - Story
© Kimson Masters - Illustrations

24 Screamer(s):

THE CHRONICLES X: Nadia's Nemesis

The slight chill of the late evening bit into Nadia’s soft silky skin and she found herself clasping her feet together, burrowing deeper into the sheets and hugging tightly onto her pillows like it was a matter of life and death. 

The room was silent. The others had left. They had gone to enjoy the moment. She felt robbed.
She had always been the queen of such moments. She was the one who usually held the aces; the one who exuded the charm that ruled those moments; the one who called the shots, who settled the fights, who represented royalty among the dregs of the campus; the one who made the sons of adam engage their bladders in a wet fest as their lusts raged out of control.

She was the gifted numero uno of desire; the unbroken focus of the wanton naira-flashing ‘aristos’ on Campus.

And here she was, in bed, heavily troubled by a perceived looming disaster disguised in the intimidating robes of academia, while at the same time heavily troubled by thundering abdominal booms; the result of her passionate and secret romance last night with a plate of beans. Here she was, robbed of the precious moment of stealing the show for that night.

She raised her head and glanced out through her bedside window. The evening sky spread out in a hue of orange and grey as the sun broadcast its final view across the campus landscape.
The evening smelled of opportunities; dark ones that offered crisp and freshly minted currency which would be doled out after moments of intense orgies and alcohol. 
The evening smelled of opportunities, but she was getting none of it because she had been robbed of it… 

By a Lecturer.

He had refused it. 
And she just couldn’t fathom why. 

What every other lecturer relished, this stubborn professor refused. She needed to pass badly. Her GPA had suffered due to her negligence and she never bothered about it. It could always be mended whenever she wanted like she had done since her 1st and 2nd year on campus. All it took was a night out with the lecturers in question. She had made sure she chose courses that had male lecturers and avoided the ones that were spear headed by females. 

She was now in her third year, the GPA was crumbling and her ‘efforts’ to revive it had met a brick wall. This was heavy unit course; compulsory and undebateable. And this lecturer had refused.

She jumped out of the bed. The anger that had manifested after that experience reared its ugly head from the depths of her subconscious and stormed her entire body in a trembling fit. She felt her flesh tightening as blood rushed through her veins in response to the fury building within her. Her breathing quickened, her heavily endowed chest moving to the rhythm of her mounting rage. 
She walked to the full length mirror that had been nailed to the wall and stood defiantly before it. She pulled off the gown she was wearing, exposing her complete nakedness before the full glare of the mirror.
Her eyes traveled round her reflected figure, taking in all the details that had made her the envy of fellow females and the desire of every ‘dog’ in male skin. The curves, the smoothness, the protrudrances and the sultry bounces…they were all there. How come this particular ‘dog’ didn’t answer to the call of her rich endowments?

Her stomach rumbled again. It was the call of beans; her edible passion. She loved it and always found solace and ultimate pleasure in the legume that many, including herself, denied ever liking. She never ate it in the open, only in the comforting confines of her room. Her passion for beans was her curse, her secret.

A knock on the door. The least wanted of all things – a blasted knock on the door at a time when she was totally submerged in the gentle waters of sensual meditation.

‘Come in’, she said, not taking her eyes off the mirror, not even bothering to cover her ever-desirable birthday suit. 

The door opened and a well dressed young man walked in. He stopped in his tracks; frozen, shocked, dazed and confused...

To be continued...

© Lolu Kush (Afronuts) - Story
© Kimson Masters - Illustrations

23 Screamer(s):

Blog Review for Today - LadyGuide (LG)

She calls herself LG, acronym for ‘Ladyguide’ which is also the name of her blog – and does a good deal of guiding you into a fit of mindless laughter from the way she dishes the yarns on her blog. Her blog is the type I’d refer to the ‘Fantabulously Sanguine Blog’.

Let’s start first of all with the look of her blog. It chocolate brown – a sweet color to the eyes with a welcoming masthead of the frothing seawater washing next to the drawing of a heart etched into the sand. The aesthetic look of her blog succeeds in its job of getting your attention because of its unique look; its single minded use of just one dull yet inviting color with a soft yet strong look is very striking and memorable. 

I think it would have been more interesting if LG had a tagline below her name that described her as the one to give you a tour guide into a world of hilarious moments. Nevertheless, LG’s blog is one BIG comic relief, anytime, anyday. 

Probably it’s LG’s content that actually takes your reactions to the climax. Her deliberate use of Naija pidgin in the most hilarious manner just blows your mind as you read through. The blog’s conversational manner is so apt that the simplest things she mentions such as observations can activate your sense of humour. For those stressed out folks, for those burned out peeps, for those depressed individuals and unhappy bogons (provided you’re Naija because of the pidgin and Naija references), I’ll recommend a dosage of LG’s blog. This girl is just off the hook. 

One other thing I like about her blog are her social commentaries. LG no doubt is a good observer of things happening around her from the nature of these entries. She takes time to detail happenstances that give you a vivid picture of a brief moment.
LG’s use of pidgin and well-known Naija lingos are elemets that give her blog that desirable appeal; these are the elements that generate that enjoyable nostalgia of our motherland, Nigeria. Despite the wahala in the country, there’s so much material to generate humour from and she achieves that on her blog. 

LG stands out as a good blogger. Her blog is original and has a style of its own. I’ll accord her as one of the most interesting ‘Naijacentric’ blogs I’ve ever read. 

Rating for LG
I'm digging it!

10 Screamer(s):


Okay! from the comments on my last entry, people don't wanna see reviews. Na wah oh. Yet many of una dey watch dem movies like no man's business.

Anyway somebody already does the movie review thingy. Check it out on Nneoma's nollywood blog.


I got picked by kin'shar on one of these tagging things. I always run from them but I guess I'll do this one because it has a sensible objective - to promote as many blogs as possible in the blogosphere.

Its an award thing and kin'shar gave me one. Well I'm honored to be seen as fit for this. The award is for blogs whose content and design are brilliant as well as creative. Though  I wonder why the picture logo says 'Honest Blogger'. And come to think of it, I've gotten comments that state my entries as being honest. So I guess I'll pass. this thing na work oh!

So I'll pick my own awardees for the 'Honest blogger' award and here they are:


Black James Bond






For you who got picked, here are the rules to follow:

1. When you receive the prize you must write a post showing it, together with the name of who has given it to you, and link them back
2. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs (or even more) that you find brilliant in their content or design.
3. Show their names and links and leave them a comment informing they were prized with ‘Brilliant Weblog’
4. Show a picture of those who awarded you and those you give the prize (optional).
5. And then we pass it on!

9 Screamer(s):

To Review or not to review?

I actually wanted this to be a poll but since my blog layout seems to be acting up against that, I decided to make it an entry. The question is this:


I need your opinions. I'm not giving optional answers for you to pick on. Just let me know whatever you think. Any action I take towards after this will be by popular request.

So you guys decide whether to review or not to review?

13 Screamer(s):