A long loooong time ago, In a land far faaaaar away, when baby men were baby boys and fornication and adultery was just adults having fun there lived a Sushey. His name? You already know now…

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In that land awash with maidens fair and fine, all things could be described as bright and beautiful. All creatures, lepa and orobo alike. Almost every corner you turned, there was a daughter of Eve looking yellow and ‘fine’ as MTN Nigeria. Life was supposed to be easy yet it was harder than a Dorthraki on Viagra.

It was hard because in that time also, was many a man. Many a man that wished death upon me… Imagine a city with almost every relevant son of Adam looking like Leonidas. Competition with these men for these damsels was expert level difficult!

Unless of course, we were relegated to the lower echelons of  society. You know, the bad lands where there could be a diamond in the rough. However, Larry Sushey wasn’t ready for all that hard work. I wanted to be in the upper echelon and rub shoulders with the high and mighty. We had small money so we could form mighty and then we would smoke Igbo* to get high.

High and Mighty noni.

So there were certain places frequented by pretty babes that I would go hang at and immediately I sighted a karishika step into the building I would suck belleh so that my shirt can fine.

After a while, I didn’t have to suck the belleh anymore, the belleh would suck itself immediately I saw a Domitilla. This thing is a prime example of progressive elaboration because as time went by, I didn’t even have to see before the belleh would suck. The moment a fine girl is in the vicinity my stomach muscles would just tighten and this had nothing to do with butterflies.

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Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls that’s how I suck belleh for three years o (and I couldn’t even swim). Even when babe is not there I could not breathe out again. I just permanently resembled this guy:

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Breathe out and die

If you like say I had low self of steam. I’d say you’re far too kind. What I had was almajiri-hole-in-dunlop-bathroom-slippers self of steam. At the time, it worked cos me and my guys dem were pressing different bress everyday like say we be pressing iron. So me nuh really care you know? As long as belleh is sucked, self of steam was on a 100.

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Then one sweet day in November. We went to go and press the wrong bress. This babe was a Meagan Good look alike, We met her at a bar and we hit it off straight away. She was in a hurry until we walked into the room peacocking like the Artist “formerly-known” as Prince (R.I.P). We convinced her to stay even though she said she had an urgent meeting. While we held her attention with massive golden brown dodo chronicles, her mobile phone kept ringing but she ignored it and kept laughing. She eventually turned the little bugger off.

To cut the long story short, we took her home and we pressed her bress.

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She left the next morning smiling. Gators looking sharp like a pair of properly pressed chinos trousers. Then she wouldn’t stop calling. So we stopped taking her calls and promptly changed her name on our phone to “Thou Shalt Not Pick.” She sent us messages saying we owed her 2 million Naira as we made her miss the meeting with the Alhaji that was going to settle her house rent.

See ehn, we thought she was rich. I mean, she looked Good like Meagan. She smelt nice and spoke well too… Little did we know she was just another climber up the social ladder.


*Interlude: Why is it that when you tell most Nigerians you want to ease yourself in their bathrooms they automatically assume you want to pee? Isn’t to shit to ease one’s self?


 

Then came the threats from their Society of Abanas. They knew my black car and my plate number and threatened to make my life a living hell in the land far, faaaaar away. We were threatened by cultists and police alike. Our office was inundated with calls and our parents were involved. It was as if we had killed person. Ordinary small small pressing of bress that we press o… So we arranged a meeting.

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We went there knowing there was a possibility we were gonna die that day. We met with the cultist that was given the contract to eliminate us via our contacts in the confraternity world. We were told that no harm would befall us and that we should be more careful with Karishikas. After smoking some Igbo* and drinking some alcohol (which we paid for), we were asked to go and as exit was made I felt a feeling of relief like I had never felt before.

I breathed out for the first time in over 3 years.

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Now that we are baby – men (Cos there’s always the baby life in there somewhere), we don’t bother about sucking belleh anymore. Me and my guys dem still dey live long and still dey sing song. Everything cool now no pressure and Oh…

We still dey press BRESS.

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Larry Sushey.