A PHONE CALL
Truly, if a man visits the market where Fright is traded as goods he will shudder like a baby. I am inarguably one of those many men that have once traded in such market; I thoroughly yielded to the whips of Fear.
I am Richard Eliot, a machine operator in a packaging company. Of course, I am married and blessed with three beautiful girls. Nonetheless, I still want a Ronaldo or a Michael Jackson. So, my wife is pregnant for the fourth time. I always carefully ensured the growth of my manly spirit until one humiliating Wednesday.
It was still morning, but it seemed that the sun was hesitant to show up in the sky. I was on a night shift that week, so I was at home trying to make up the sleep I had missed the previous night. My wife was not around; she had gone for her ante-natal check-up in a government-owned hospital, the closest to our street. My beautiful girls were not around either, they had gone to school.
Around 11am, my phone suddenly rang continuously which woke me from my sleep. The caller was unknown. Though I was not expecting any call, I picked up the, assuming that it would be a known person.
“Hello Mister!” the caller greeted warmly.
“Hello, please who is this?” I obliged and asked calmly.
“I’m Doctor Mark. I want to inform you that your wife…” he was saying with utmost reluctancy when I interrupted.
“What’s wrong with my wife?” I interrogated, anxiety stealing over my voice.
“Well, Mister, I just want to inform you that your wife has…” he continued and then paused for some moments. “Well, your wife has just delivered of a full football team with two substitutes.” He finally declared very hastily as though he was timed.
“I couldn’t comprehend your message sir. Can you help explain?” I asked with amazement.
The caller heaved a sigh of frustration.
“I meant your wife just delivered of thirteen baby boys and…” he was explaining when I screamed and passed out.
It was one of my neighbours who heard me scream came to my aid. He ensured that I regained my consciousness, after which I was forced to lie on my bed. I did not tell him what had happened.
As I lay on my bed, tons of thoughts protested in my mind. I wore grimace all over my face as garment and my body was held captive by the shock from the phone call. I thought of how I am still even struggling to be a responsible father to my three girls, let alone thirteen boys. I thought of how the scan had scammed both my wife and I. The scan had tipped that she was pregnant of a boy; just one boy and it is not yet the Expected Delivery Date.
“I’m in real wahala” I thought and made a list of possible remedy. “I either die or run away” I concluded in my mind.
As I kept thinking while my face house oceans of tears, my phone rang again. It is the same number; it is the doctor.
“No! Not again!” I protested like a mad man.
I decided not to pick up the call. The phone rang consecutively about four times but I held onto my decision. However, by the fifth time, I picked up but maintained quietude.
“Hello Mister!” the caller greeted more mutually this time around.
“I’m really sorry; I wasn’t supposed to call you the other time. I called the wrong number. So, I am very sorry for the excitements or depression I might have caused” I remain silent as he spoke on apologising.
“Hello! Are you there mister?” he asked, trying to be sure if I was still listening when I started laughing.
“All right! Do have a nice time.” He muttered and ended the call.
I kept on laughing in a rather silly way when my wife walked in with her stomach still fully loaded.
NOTE: Wahala is a Yoruba word which means ‘trouble’.
If you still haven't joined Skinnies on all platforms please do:
Posts
0 Comments