“Who is Paschal smashing so vigorously like that abeg?” Ekene said with a giggle as he moved from the kitchen, through the connecting doorway, into the living room, where the rest of us were sprawled in various positions of relaxation on Biola’s carpeted floor and sofas. Muted coital sounds were floating out to us through the small corridor, from the guestroom at the end of the hallway.
“As in eh,” Adebola exclaimed, coming up behind Ekene. The two of them came bearing items of food we’d be having for brunch. “Since we came here, they’ve been cooped up inside there. Abeg, Biola, since when did your house turn into a brothel?”
“My dear, I have no idea o,” Biola said, as he stood before the television and flicked through DSTV stations. “Dude came to me yesterday evening with his squeeze, some young thing he invited from UniBen, and begged me to let the boy crash here for the night.”
“And you agreed?” I said with a mock-gasp. “Since when did you start becoming so charitable?” It is an understanding amongst us that Biola is just not the type of friend that will discommode himself over someone else’s convenience. He’s just not wired to be a Good Samaritan. Continue reading