True Lies


Hmnnn…

I should tell 'em at parties

I want to tell you guys a story. If you are a follower of this here piece of crap i call a blog you would know by now that I was in Lagos late last year and caught a lot of “cool funs” as evidenced in this post right here. Well this is a story of me, A.K the bad guy and Hafiz the Fizzle Fizz…

You see, I have lived in Abuja for the past 11 years even though i was born and bred in Lagos. I however do not see myself as a ‘Lagos boy’ by any means. This is because every time i visit that place i always have a jaw dropping experience which inadvertently seems normal to the average Lagosian. Like this one time i was in transit on the third mainland bridge to V.I and something caught my eye. Someone sat on the bridge railing and was dropping lumps of shit into the lagoon below. Nobody in the damn BRT batted an eyelid… It was like the norm. I could’ve even sworn that he waved at someone inside the bus!

I mean, this nigga was butt naked with his full ‘naked of prick o!’ at about 9:15 a.m and there was a slight traffic hold up. People barely gave him a sideward glance like he was part of the construction. Anyway i digress…

So I was in Lag with my Abuja friend, A.K. I decided to bunk at his pad somewhere off Adeniran Ogunsanya road Surulere. It was in Lere that i met Hafiz the Fizzle Fizz…

Now this guy is a confirmed full grown matured old adult MAN. He’s about 7 feet tall and has the physique of Humongousaur (refer to Ben10). I mean, imagine a very black Triple H with a slight pot belly and you’ve got Fizzle. The kind of guy you wanna have fighting on your side. I asked A.K how he knew him and he said he was one of the area boys that used to help his mum carry heavy machinery and stuff like that. Fizzle was in a good mood that day, something about him being the new guy to collect all the ‘agbero’ money from the okada riders. Need i say more?

In short Fizzle>>>> Humongusaur x Triple H

So A.K had just taken delivery of a brand new vehicle and we were gonna celebrate. It was a Sunday night and Fizzle insisted on ‘arranging’ babes to spice it up. He made a lot of phone calls before finally getting hold of someone and i heard him telling her to come with her friends. The phone was loud and i heard her say something about her being a “one woman mopol”. Fizzle convinced her and she finally agreed that we should come pick her up somewhere in Aguda, Surulere.

A.K was driving, i was in the passenger’s seat and Fizzle was at the back. The following conversation ensued on our way there.

A.K: “Hafiz this place wey we dey go far o, abeg try direct me because i’ve never been there o!”

Fizzle: HAHAHAHA!!! I go direct you now worry, e no far.”

Me:Fizzle you sure say these girls no be ashawo?”

Fizzle: “HEHEHEHEHE!!! No oooo, dem be student now! Dem be bad girls you go like dem. Baba say dem be ashawo….HAWHAWHAWHEHEHE!!!”

We went on to talk about Chelsea defeating Manchester City earlier in the week and some other stuff I’m not going to tell you about. Thirty minutes later, we were parked at a filling station somewhere in Aguda. The girls were on a bike coming to meet us so Fizzle took a stroll to meet them at the junction while i waited with AK in the car. A few moments later, i saw Fizzle approaching us with two girls, one obviously more attractive than the other. A.K and I caught each other in a side eye glance. I was already thinking of how to intrebolate the finer one when they got to the car and entered the backseat. That’s when it hit me like a heat wave.

The smell.

The trash heap has spoken.... RISE!

Those girls had on their heads, wigs/weaves from hell. I’m not exaggerating, those things smelt so bad it was as if someone farted in the car.

WARNING: This goes out to all you girls who carry weaves on your head till lice and fleas and all those other smell inducing elements build sky scrapers on your head. STOP IT! The fact that you smooch your hair with ‘pink oil’ every morning and then comb it into another style doesn’t change the weave. We don’t care if it’s Indian, Peruvian or Vietnamese hair. STOP IT. As you read this, i don’t care if you’re in the office or not, put your hand in your hair and start loosening that shit right away! Who do you think you’re deceiving? It’s not sexy. I dont like having to hold my breath everytime i hug you.

Back to the story.

A.K was frowning and didn’t utter a word. If not for the area we were in, I’m sure he would’ve taken  the windows all the way down.

Fizzle: “Guys na the babes be this o.”

A.K: “Hi. Fizzle na your town be this, where we dey go?” (Still frowning)

I turned around and introduced myself to the babes. Their names were Bola and Dupe.

A.K had started driving out and Fizzle and his babes were talking in the back seat. I brought out my phone to tweet when it happened.

Dupe:    “I have a eddik o!”

Bola:      “Mi o de wa ni panadol o! I din haff panadol at all.”

I hear a zip open and turn in time to see Dupe reach for something in her bag. I’m not sure if it was the smell that hit me first or the sight of a dark green plastic bottle with a yellow cap. Alomo bitters!

Kasapreko Alomo Bitters

This bitch was using Alomo to abate her headache! (In case you don’t know Alomo bitters, it’s a very vile tasting ‘ointmentish’ drink with Ghanaian origins and has 43% alcohol). Bola brought out her phone and shuffled through it. She starts to play a song from her phone and next thing i hear the girls scream out of excitement…

Dupe/Bola: “HEEEYYYYYYYYYY…..YEEEAAAHHHHHHH!!!!”

Bola: “It’s Hollllaaarr baby!!! Holllaaaaarrrrr!..”

Dupe/Bola: “ENI DURO!!!! Horrlamidey is yeah, just like the first day of the year.”

*They kept miming the song, some gibberish i couldn’t quite make out*

Dupe/Bola: “Hoekay. Holrite! Hall dia? He dey dere….

(I found the song they were listening to on the internet. You can download it here)

By the time they were mid way through the song, A.K had taken down the windows because the smell had become unbearable. He ordered them to put off the music as we approached a police checkpoint. I sat there tweeting still, using every bit of my energy to keep a straight face. I managed to look into the rear view mirror and saw Fizzle mildly suppress a grin. Trust Lagos policemen, they flagged us down.

Policeman: “Inner light, park.”

A.K:  “Officer, well done. How work?”

Policeman: “Ha oga na you? This your motor na tear rubber. Who is the owner of this vehicle?”

A.K: “It’s my car.”

Policeman: “You mean you buy this brand new motor by yourself?”

A.K: “Yes.  Any problem?”

He seemed to ponder over the question before he responded.

Policeman: “No chairman. That means you have to ‘wash’ it for us nah. You know we are here to protect you people. Make we sef follow enjoy from your happiness baba!…”

A.K handed him a couple thousand naira notes and he and his colleagues waved us on, smiling and waving like we were part of the state governor’s convoy.

I couldn’t help but mutter something about the irony of A.K having a convo with A.K (In Nigeria, policemen are sometimes refered to as ‘A.K’)

Dupe: “Hoe GOD! I ate police!!!”

Me: “BUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

The girl, now smiling that she had finally gotten me to say something continued…

Dupe: “Hassin I ate police with a passions! I can never marry a police!! Das how dey use to do in dis

Lagos.”

Me: “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!” BUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

A.K for the first time that night was laughing hysterically as was I. We look at each other and simultaneously chorused, Boondocks style, “HOODRATS! HOOODRAAAAAATTSS!!!”

The girls thought we were laughing at the policemen and joined in the laughter. We arrived at a lounge somewhere on Adeniran Ogunsanya and what those girls did ehn…

That will be a story for another day. This post is too long already. To be continued next week…

In case you haven’t noticed

I am Immortal Larry Sushey. #ITellCoolStories!

Forget the previous post.

It’s been a while i came here and i have the perfect excuse. Being that this excuse has  somewhat been trending in blogsville i’m gonna jump on the bandwagon. I haven’t posted anything in about a month because, err.. well, i’ve been in camp.

Camp was literally life changing for me. I was one of those that had the rare opportunity to have served in two different camps. It was a special feeling in both places… I mean, at the Redeemed camp there were uncountable miracles. The power of God was just everywhere. I was touched by an angel. (story for another day) After 5 days there, i moved at another camp. Bonny camp. The guard rooms in that one are very small and uncomfortable though, but nothing a Sushey couldn’t handle.

You see my very stubborn Lagos friends Ak 47 and Hafiz the fizzle Fizz decided to get into a fight with an okada man in front of Bonny camp, Victoria Island Lagos. Funny thing is the motorcyclist had offended them way before we got to the barracks but they decided to go wait for him at his home turf just to form Jack Bauer. Happens the okada man was a soldier. Let’s just say after many hours in the guard room, My life will never be the same. These ‘camping’ experiences no Harold have been life changing for me on two separate levels.  What they both have in common however is that i henceforth eschew violence. I WILL NEVER LOOK FOR TROUBLE AGAIN.

*Psyche*

Moving on, it’s xmas season and this is what this post is really about. well not exactly but yeah 2011 has been quite the year on “the Nigerian twitter”. Sushey records decided to do a remix of the 12 days of Christmas song and remind you of some of those moments that made Nigerian twitter fun this year. I might have missed some of the drama but here are the top twelve for me.

Enjoy…

*Clears throat*

On the first day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Toxic virgins up in blogsville”

The Toxic Virgin

On the second day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Super Chupa Chups, toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

Remember, remember the blogger awards?

On the third day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Babcock girls fight, super Chupa Chups, toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

Who wants to sleep with Okoya?

On the fourth day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Peju’s large teeth, Babcock girls fight, super Chupa Chups, toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

His name should be Teet(h)eelayo

On the fifth day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Fine ugu leaves… Peju’s large teeth, Babcock girls fight, super Chupa Chups , toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

Nutricious Ugu leaves

On the sixth day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Legend of the ‘thruster’, Fine ugu leaves… Peju’s large teeth, Babcock girls fight, super Chupa Chups , toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

Send me a DM. Can i "thrust" you?

On the seventh day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Oracle’s a-fooling, legend of the ‘thruster’, Fine ugu leaves… Peju’s large teeth, Babcock girls fight, super Chupa Chups , toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

Auracool. He sure is well above 30...

On the eighth day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Bed wetting in Lekki, Oracle’s a-fooling, legend of the ‘thruster’, Fine ugu leaves… Peju’s large teeth, Babcock girls fight, super Chupa Chups , toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

Na sin to piss?

On the ninth day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Chinnydiva’s outfit, bed wetting in Lekki, Oracle’s a-fooling, legend of the ‘thruster’, Fine ugu leaves… Peju’s large teeth, Babcock girls fight, super Chupa Chups , toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

I think she's gorgeous...

On the tenth day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Hermes purse expensive, Chinnydiva’s outfit, bed wetting in Lekki, Oracle’s a-fooling, legend of the ‘thruster’, Fine ugu leaves… Peju’s large teeth, Babcock girls fight, super Chupa Chups , toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

I'd set 'P' for a Hermes purse too...

On the eleventh day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “Darlington beefs Vic’O, Hermes purse expensive, , Chinnydiva’s outfit, bed wetting in Lekki, Oracle’s a-fooling, legend of the ‘thruster’, Fine ugu leaves… Peju’s large teeth, Babcock girls fight, super Chupa Chups , toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

I hope it turns physical.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, Majela said to me: “I’m a winsh for Jesus, Hermes purse expensive, Darlington beefs Vic’O, Chinnydiva’s outfit, bed wetting in Lekki, Oracle’s a-fooling, legend of the ‘thruster’, Fine ugu leaves… Peju’s large teeth, Babcock girls fight, super Chupa Chups , toxic virgins up in blogsville.”

Holy slap, no?

I might have missed out on some of those moments that made you go :O !

Sue me. Use the comment box to state which was your favorite scandal of the year… It’s gonna be interesting to here your views. If you aren’ t on twitter, i suggest you get an account.

Shii is cray on those streets mehn, cray cray…

Larry Sushey wishes you a merry Christmas and a happy new year.

I remain immortal.

Bignuts Ironbender

Bignuts Ironbender

The man above is my friend, Bignuts Ironbender and I know it’s no longer mid-summer. Today i shall be telling you a story. First let me put up a ‘claimer’ as it seems like it has started trending in blogsville.

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This is a true cool story. All characters are non-fictional and all names and resemblances to people dead or alive is intentional. In fact, they are spot on. I will be held liable for any brouhaha that emanates from reading this here post and I will not regret it. If you do not believe this story… Err… Okay.
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About a year ago, I was going to wrestle a bunch of chicks and snakes in some bar when this guy named Ironbender Bignuts walked in. When the bartender asked us what we were having, we both said “Old Fashioned” at the same time. We gave each other the nod, got back to back and proceeded to beat the shit out of every man, woman and child in the bar—in super slow motion. It was like we were in the Matrix movie. There were lots of kids in the bar and we beat them all up! Do not send me hate mail or comments like some spastic know-it-all dipshit, I don’t care what you know about which laws. We were in err… Sao tome and Principé, so your limp-dicked laws don’t apply. Kids drink in Sao tome.

One day, Iron Bignuts and I were setting off fireworks on a battleship. My battleship, when we got the idea to make a TV show for this Media coy called Dust TV. Now DTV (situated in Calabar) is a TV station owned by the ever vivacious political Igodomigodo himself, Mr. Patrick Agbariogbon. Popular for his audacious use of the Queens English Language, all their programmes followed his supreme pattern. We needed to dumb it down a little, but Pat would have none of it.

However after I threatened to verbally emasculate his political career by issuing disparaging statements of calumny, exposing the precocious handling of his bed wetting tendencies, (which he attributed assiduously to his new born offspring) he obliged. I know that Pat jr.’s genitals could not produce such voluminous quantities of saline human by- products. I ascribed to my knowledge of certain discrepancies within his mental faculty as he was @Terdoh’s floor mate on the leftside.
His real mannerisms were now being gradually exposed, for alas he had endeavoured to conceal such short-comings using verbal aristocracy and lingual xenophobia. Cool story, his goose was cooked and non- conformity would see me applying rodo and iru to the mix. I spoke to him like a boss. We are equals.

He was immediately convinced that they needed something badass to fill that gaping hole in their late night programming womb. Imagine a show like ‘Tyra’ or ‘Mo hits with Mo’ that men would watch. You can’t?

Exactly!

We wanted to make a show that banged your face with the dicks of our ideas! There are no celebrities, fashion designers and models to be seen on our show. Just hard working guys earning a honest living with a story to tell, like this badass guy I read about who makes less than a dollar a week and sold his kidney so that he could take care of his 6 wives and 26 and a half children (No 13 is a midget). Also, this harlot I used to know who was a medical student in one of the Nigerian universities and took to prostitution so that she could feed her aged mother and her 9 siblings. (Well, really because she liked dick but shh… Don’t loud it)

… Back to the cool story…

We set out to save modern television from going down as one of the womanliest epochs in history. Notice how apart from sports these days every other thing is so womanly? Death to all the reality shows and the like. Our treatment literally had the line:
“So you think you can dance? Fuck you.” IronBender actually preferred the opening line to be in Zulu even though he was Ugandan. He thought the language represented true African pride. Anyway, Patrick finally loved it. Two high-fives and six months later, shit started happening:

Nothing.

Literally, shit = nothing. Unless of course it is accompanied by a scent from hell or somewhere close by like @sheriphskills bowels, shit is nothing.
Here’s what happened: Ironbender died. Apparently, he was involved in a planking accident. I warned him not to plank at the top of the wooden electric pole on Tuesdays because it was a taboo in Sao tomé but he didn’t listen. The termites come out on Tuesdays and well let’s just say he was involved in an accident that involved a horde of soldier termites and scrotum balls.

I was distraught. Heck I still am but hey… Life goes on. I am thinking of starting this program again and I need a female co-presenter. That female must however bow to the supremacy and awesomeness of Man. I doubt I’ll find an educated female that’ll fit my bill anyway so maybe I’ll just settle for Bruno Mars.
Still thinking though…

Cool story bruv, cool story. 😐

Larry Sushey.

So my blog is titled Being Larry Sushey and so i guess i really have to tell you some real Sushey tales. A lotta absurd stories i’ve got in my head and well, let’s just hope i am able to remember them all before ya’ll kick the bucket. I remember telling you before that i am immortal so I will have already outlived you all. Remember, remember 21st of May…

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For the purpose of this blog, let’s call the subject of today’s blog Sammy.

You see, Sammy is a really tall guy, say about 6feet 5 inches. Tall, dark and handsome Idris Elba typa guy. *I see a few ladies swooning in the corner*. Sammy likes to hang out a lot too,You know a real socialite well known in theAbuja club scenes. The man really knows how to rock a party i tell you…

So it was on one fateful Wednesday like that, say some time in 2009. Summer or rainy season as we call it in the tropics. I was home alone, thursday was a public holiday so yours truly and another Sushey, Franky Sushey decided to hang out. You know, visit the regular night clubs, have a few drinks, flirt with the gurls and maybe we would get lucky.Plus, what better week day was there than on a Wednesday?

You see inAbuja, almost all the clubs/lounges have this ‘ladies night’ theme going on. You know, the ladies get a free drink before midnight or discounted drinks for everyone till a particular time, e.t.c.

I have strong reason to also believe that wednesdays is the ladies night for most clubs in other parts ofNigeria as well.

Anyway, back to my tale.

I came back from work, chilled for a bit and drove out to Franky’s. Time was about 10 p.m. Franky then told me   about how Sammy called him earlier in the day and that Sammy wouldn’t mind hanging with us that night.

I thought cool!, why not? He knows how to rock a party! Anything that will get the bannies attracted to us is cool with me.

So we got in the car and off we drove towards a popular beer parlour in Maitama. In Abuja, we call those beer parlours ‘gardens’.

Got there in no time and as i was getting out of the car, i spotted Sammy coming out the garden. He spotted a pretty nice suit and i remember thinking to my self “chai, If only i could just add a little to this my height”. We said hi, had a short convo and headed towards one of the popular clubs on Ademola Adetokunbo.

You see the Susheys are regulars at this particular club highly regarded as the best in Abuja *pops collar* and so we always have V.I.P status. This is where the story begins to get really interesting.

 I stepped out the car after both Frank and Sam had alighted and then i saw them.

The shoes.

I mean they looked like something that had been raped, battered and utterly traumatised in the Sierraleonian war and whose entirely family had been discombobulated by the Foday Sankoh forces. The last of it’s kind i tell you. Let’s call the shoes…’the last Mohican”. Undoubtedly the last of it’s kind in all the galaxies and realms of existence.

I didn’t see them at the garden but now that we were outside the well lit club, there was no escaping. This guy was going down. I put on my screen saver face and had a quick glance at Franky. He wore a smirk on his and i guess we both knew there was no way Sammy was gonna get into that club with the Mohican.

I know those bouncers. They can embarass person!!

However, we approached the bouncers. There was a crowd at the gate and maybe he was gonna slip in, but i wasn’t gonna risk such. I waka(d) far and passed the first entrance before Franky. Luckily for Frank, Sam and the Mohican stopped to say hi to one of his colleagues in the office so Franky left him there too.

 BUHAHAHAHAHA!!!

I was at the last batch of bouncers when i heard it. Frankie was directly behind me. I saw his face & I swerrugad i wan bust laff!!! It took every bit of self-controlling nerve in me to stop me from ROTFLing. The bouncer was doubled over pointing at the Indian. Talking to the other guys at entrance one, he said:

Bros, all of una fit enter, but this shoe”?! LAI LAI!!! NEVER!! Do you want me to lose my job? I mean he didn’t even mind Sammy entering as long as he went in with his socks.

Don’t forget that all this while, the idiot didn’t even look at the wearer of the shoes o! He was doubled over pointing at ‘the shoes’. Pointing at the Indian.

Me and Franky kuku enter the club and came out about 15 minutes later after a few shots of tequila and many Sammy phone calls. We decided to go to another club cos of the guy plus he said he was popular there. My expectations where immediately lowered. I knew i wasn’t gonna get some that night.

5 minutes later we were at the other place. Make i no lie, not a bad looking joint but it looked more like an harem with the amount of ashawos up in there. Na ladies night them call am not Majela night! Me i just kuku face the bar dey sip my alomo a.k.a . hennessy. When we had extrebolated all our money, we decided to head back home. Sammy wanted to carry ‘hand bag’ but i said i would NEVER carry one of those in my car.

Then he said he was hungry and requested we dropped him off in front of another club in Abuja popular because some guys cook indomie there at night. He would take a cab home from there. I did as directed and afterwards Frankie and i left for home.

That’s not the end of the story.

The next day, Frankie calls to say that he got a call from Sammy that afternoon.

Apparently, after we left him, he entered the other club to pick up a sex partner with 3000 bucks he had hidden from us. I don’t know the details but he woke up the next day at about 8: am on the bench where the indomie seller was the night before in his suit.

No phone.

No wristwatch.

No wallet.

No cash.

No shoes.

Yes someone took the Mohican. They even took his stockings sef… Now tell me, how could anybody be that *insert any word u deem fit*?

How could they have kidnapped the Last Mohican?

People harsh o…Hian!