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Monday, November 22, 2010

The car made me do it.


Shhhh...Must you whisper so loudly?


Sorry for yourself gbeboruns. What part of my mother must not find me did you not get? Please don’t use your need for gist to spoil my own.

We’ve said sorry now.  O ya tell us what happened.

Well, after deciding on my strategy, I put my plan into motion. I lured my mama into a false sense of security by snuggling up with her and having a Walton family moment.  I pretended to enjoy Tinsel for 15 minutes and then I told her I was going to go for a brisk stroll round the block and check on the car to make sure it was all ready to go.

And the idea of you strolling briskly anywhere didn't get her alarm bells ringing? 

Unlike you lot, she trusts me...Most of the time anyway.

My mother beamed at me and said... 

“I’m so proud of you Mena. You’ve really grown up and I’m glad you’ve decided to take this situation in your stride. I love you darling.”

Huh? Did she just say the “L” word?

Ay Caramba! We’re going to hell!!!!

Shut it Brain! No ones going to hell. Well some people are but we aren’t. God understands we need to do this.

Really? Kind of missed the whole you can commit arson for personal gain part of the Bible. Anyway she said she loved us. She never says that. I want to be loved Mena. Let’s succumb to the love and drive the jalopy.

Hmmm…I did feel all warm and fuzzy inside but then I thought about the shame of having to drive that disaster to work on Monday and I hardened my heart.

I nipped outside and took a sneaky look around to make sure no one was watching. I then  proceeded to spritz a generous amount of perfume on the worn foot mat, surrounding upholstery and attempted to start the car.

3 attempts later; all sweaty and out of breath, the bloody thing finally splutters into life. At this point I lit a match and dropped it on the foot mat and waited for the car to build up some smoke and maybe a few tiny flames. The plan was to run screaming into the house to tell my mother that as I tried to start the car, there was an almighty spark from the wiring dangling from beneath the steering wheel and I barely made it out of the car with my toes intact. 

We would grab the fire extinguisher from the kitchen and  put out the mini flames. She would realize she had almost lost her baby in a fiery ball of flames and she would immediately have the car scrapped and buy me my jeep. Ahhh yes! I’m a genius.

THAT’S YOUR INGENIOUS PLAN?! My five year old could come up with a better plan than that.

Well I’m not interested in what your snotty nosed, MENSA wannabe, 5 year old can do. So stop interrupting.

My lips are sealed. I can’t wait to see how this plan of your pans out.

Anyway, the damn foot mat just refused to catch fire. So I ended up pouring almost half a bottle of my Black Orchid by Tom Ford on it (Well worth the waste if my plan succeeds) but nada.

It’s a sign from God Mena. Let’s just forget about this and go inside and eat some Blue Bunny. You know how much you love Blue Bunny? We’ll slip into something comfortable, turn down the lights, turn the dial to Smooth FM and just have our naughty way with that tub of ice-cream.

Be quiet you food tramp. I’m trying to save us from a future of ridicule here. I don’t want to hear one more peep out of you. 

I struck another match…

I don’t think you should …


I throw it into the car  and I was just about to give up and go get some kerosene when there was an almighty bang and a ginormous fire ball comes out the car door, singeing off my eyebrows and knocking me to the ground.  Is that burning weave I smell?

Naturally the noise and flames has everyone, including my mother, running outdoors,  only to find me lying on the ground by the burning car with melted weave running down my face like tar and a box of matches in my hand. 

Hmmm...This does not bode well for my future. Brain, maybe if we lay really, really still no one will notice how suspicious this all looks.

Brain?! Are you still there? Oh my God! Maybe the explosion has jarred something loose up there.  I probably have only 70% brain function or something left.

I doubt you had that much to begin with you twisted fire starter.

Speak to me Brain! SPEAK TO MEEEEEEE!!!

Now you want to talk to me huh? When the sh.. hits the fan then you want to hear from good ol'Brain. Well kiss my grey matter. You want to know what do? Just jump in the burning car and end it all  now. Believe me, it would be the humane thing to do because I’ve never seen your mother turn red before and is that a vein throbbing in her forehead?  Yep! Ending your life in a fiery furnace would be a piece of cake compared to whatever she has in store for you. And for the record, I just want to say; a woman like you should not be allowed to roam the streets and thank God you didn’t have a chance to reproduce and populate the earth with more stupid people like yourself.

Ok, you can insult me all you want later. Right now we need to figure out a way to get out of here before mother loses interest in saving her Prado and the house.

So whilst everyone was focused on dousing out the flames (which weren’t as bad as the initial fire ball led us to believe), I snuck into my fathers study and I’ve been hiding under his desk ever since. I could hear my mother calling my name interjected with words and statements that the blogger people would never let me print.

I found some kola nut and a bottle of Peach schnapps in his desk drawer. I figure if I nibble on it sparingly I might be able to survive under here for a week, only leaving the safety of the desk for bathroom emergencies. Either that or I’ll get so drunk on the Peach Schnapps I wont even care if she finds me and drags me naked behind her Prado, through the streets of Lagos. 

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