Talking to myself, or Kekeli.
Hey you, how have you been? The moon farted today and the world’s in an uproar, and understandably so.
This is where you say, “you and your crazy imagination, you never cease to intrigue me,” and I retort, “it’s no imagination yo, this and that legit happened.”
You then hold up your hand in delectable defence. You look cute when you do this, the way you unconsciously raise your eyebrows, left, right and center.
Except, you won’t be holding up a forestalling hand nor raising eyebrows.
You know this, don’t you? It’s all because the moon farted.
I lie in a pool of blood…no, not blood and definitely not a pool. I lie in a sea of shit scared people, their insides fluttering ecstatically. Yes, their hearts are skipping one too many beats but no, they’re not falling in love, they can’t.
See, the moon farted and s/he finna fart again.
Ha! It’s odd that I’m getting my ebonics on now of all times. I think it’s because of all the people around. You know how your best friend is when he’s surrounded by too many people; which is usually more than 5 people.
Remember how your best friend Afsa goes all African-American when this happens? She lashes out at everyone because she’s nervous.
Why she’s nervous? She can’t stand people. Something about them being too complex and having broken her heart one too many times.
I can’t fault her. She loves with her all and that’s left her heart splintered in a trillion dimensions. I’m sure you can find the pieces of her essence scattered all over. With her heart left out all over the place, I wonder how she’s still alive. Oh, Afsa!
I witnessed an accident this morning just before the moon farted. A large water truck knocked a hawker off her feet. Her juicy bofrot flew out in slow motion. The kind of slow-motion we loved in the Matrix. You know, Neo dodging bullets in epic, awam fashion.
My face drooped watching this ghastly sight. Can you imagine all the koko we could have drunk with all that good bofrot?
Yikes! Please forgive me…I promise I’m not being “anti-humanity” right now. I know I should care about the hawker that was hit but I can’t. We both know we don’t care about anyone but ourselves. Yes, she was knocked over and we’ll probably whimper in vicarious pain and express our faux sorrow that we know all so well to play out.
I think we all deserve an Oscar for our stellar performances. Shite! I am being anti-humanity again, aren’t I?
Chale, the moon farted, the way it’s serious eh…hmm. The fart is so toxic, it’s thrown the world into disarray. A suffocating cloud has blanketed the world chale.
The whole place is a mess. Accra is a bigger mess than it usually is. Unbelievable, right?
Not quite for me. I mean, Rafeeat did mention that Accra is pretty chill compared to Lagos. I dunno what Lagos looks like now that the moon has farted, but, I believe Accra’s present mess is Lagos pre-moon fart. Ah Rafeeat, I’m sure she’ll be as dismayed as I was watching all that bofrot go to waste.
What? She loves it just as I do; maybe even more.
The moon farted. Chale, WHAT DID YOU DO?
You pursued your gods-shouldn’t-rule-men ideology to the very end, didn’t you? You did huh? Huh?
You read about the vodun rituals. You studied the mystics. You weren’t a believer before, it was mere speculation but your ideologies remained. I hate your ideologies right now. I hate your fine ass even more. I hate that I let you stick your long pole inside me.
Gosh, I hate you!
Gosh, I miss you!
I miss your bony self. I miss snuggling next to you. I miss how you toy with my hair. I miss your long grandmother fingers. I miss your ribbed fingers marching down my neck and carving deep ridges on my nipples that quake my entire being. I miss desperately trying to guess where next your fingers will go and how soon they’ll be inside…me.
I miss you!
I’m sprawled on the ground and soaking in the chaos around me but..but… I think I just came. Ah, I just remembered. You were never into me like I was and still am. I was just a tool to you. The moon farted, I just came and it’s all your fault!
Gosh, I hate you!
You just had to, didn’t you? You connected all the supernatural dots. You unlocked the doors. You jumped into the vortex and came upon their domain. You felt a power within you. You studied them. You studied under them. You tried to understand their need to rule men. You tried to understand your need to end them.
How do I know all these things? You forget you kept Skyping me through the calabash? Ah, Kekeli, your life is a living stereotype. Your number 9 heritage, that one, you just can’t abandon it eh? You dierr, you’re weird oo. See what your weirdness has caused.
You made up your mind about our plainly hidden gods; servants you unceasingly called them. You killed your master. Then sucked the life out of their domain. One realm wasn’t enough for you. So you single-handedly waged a war. Oh, the power you must possess. It must be bitter-sweet; beautiful, yet terrifying.
I didn’t mind before. I mean, none of it was real. We both know how great a writer you are. Despite your incessant scoffs at my supposed imagination, we both know you’re the crazy one.
But alas, it was no imagination after all.
You went and attacked the gods, all of them!
Then..then…then…oh chale. I can imagine how distraught you were, are, and will be for as long as you draw breath – this will likely be forever – now that it has been revealed to you.
Oh if you had only known. Maybe you would have refrained?
The discovery was such a shocker, so infuriating, you lashed out at the heavenly army that had come to meet you.
The messenger’s light went out first. Followed by the assault squad. Then, e-v-e-r-y…everyone…e-v-e-r-y s-i-n-g-l-e member of the heavenly host. You, dum’d their light, you dowsed their spark. And now you can’t turn it on. Not even the all-mother could bring back their fire. There will be no dumsor. Just dum, sorr!
Oh Kekeli, you lashed out at them and the moon is now but a rock, floating, in space. The explosion from your moon destruction eh…it burst eardrums, splintered glass, shook the world, then shattered hope.
The moon farted.
Somehow, your power, green and dense that one, blanketed the Earth. It…it…there’s a smell to it. I can’t quite place it but..but..
Chale Kekeli, the moon farted.
What did we do to deserve this eh?
Originally published on Wattpad in May, 2017 as one part comedy, and another fantasy.