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Whatchamacallit 12

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Whatchamacallit 12

 

Knowing that her husband spent his days with cold bodies was beginning to give Keith’s wife gooseflesh. How can somebody enjoy cutting up cold bodies? For the two years Keith wooed her, she never visited him in the hospital where he worked. Of course, he invited her and made it clear she could drop by anytime she felt like. She was too uninterested then. She was visiting her former fiancée who dumped her few months to their wedding day almost every other day at work. She never found out that he was dating his colleague then.

Keith, a medical doctor, came at the time everyone was trying to get her to forget that sad experience. She had withdrawn totally into her shell and would allow no one in. She knew Keith told him he worked in the pathology department of a hospital, but she guessed the import didn’t get into her dark world then. In those two years, they didn’t go out for up to a dozen times.

She usually had an excuse for not going out with him. She thought that could dissuade him from coming to her. It never did. He kept coming and almost constituted himself into a nuisance. He would attend all family functions. To make matter worse, her father, a phlegmatic retired old major, saw in him, a suitable suitor for his much-loved daughter. Keith also struck the right cord with her eccentric stepmother whose only interest was fashion. She would dress herself up, paint every paintable part of her body and prance about the house in her grotesque clothes. Somehow, Keith could stand her and they would chat endlessly whenever he visited. Her stepmother would make him comfortable with food and drinks while he waited for her to get back from work.

She met Keith at her junior cousin’s naming ceremony. Somehow, they got talking and she found him interesting enough to grudgingly agree give him her phone number. That was how their relationship started.

He would come to her parent’s house at the close of his shift and wait for her. The second time she visited him in his house in their two years of courtship, she shared a bottle of red wine with him and lost her inhibition. When Keith placed his hand on her laps and started tracing patterns on her flowery dress, she giggled. That embolden Keith who gingerly pulled the dress up, expecting her to hit his hand with her palm.
“What are you doing?” She slurred.

“Nothing. I just want to peek at what you have beneath that dress. I’ve been wondering what it would feel like to lie beside you in our birthday suit, touch and admire your goddess-like body,” he had replied, seriously.

To his utmost surprise, she had stood up, zipped down her dress and stepped out of it. Shocked, Keith swallowed hard. He didn’t expect this. Not the prim and proper Shalom, Ol’Major’s beloved daughter.
“Baby, you are drunk,” he managed to say, as blood rushed down to his crotch.

“Yes, I’m drunk. What’s wrong with that? I wouldn’t be the first lady to get drunk,” she slurred, swaying on her feet.

Keith jumped up and held her. She shivered. Her skin felt so warm and silky. On an impulse, he sought her mouth with his. She didn’t resist. He became bolder, fiddled with her brassiere hooks and released the two delightful mounds. He burrowed his face in-between the mounds and she drew him closer to her, breathing deeply. He latched his lips round her tits as his hands roved her body. She moaned loudly as she held tightly on to him. Gently he steered her back to the couch. She was delirious with desire. He stepped out of his clothes in record time and divested her of her remaining underclothes. She smiled shyly at him.

“You are ready for this?” He asked her, barely able to contain his excitement.
She nodded, her eyes closed. He knelt on the rug, pulled her to the end of the couch, went in-between and buried his face in there. He tasted honey and nectar mixed together…and something sweet smelling. As he prodded with his tongue and fingers, she screamed.
“Don’t stop, I said, don’t…don’t…yeah, I love it…don’t…it’s been so loooooong.”

Keith felt himself bursting. His dangler was turgid and beginning to weep and hit the rug intermittently as it lunged. He pulled her closer to the edge of the couch, pulled off his face, with his fingers still working crazily in there. She wasn’t aware when his dangler replaced his tongue down there. She was shivering and screaming crazily as waves of passion wracked her body. He carried her to the bedroom after that and they went on another excursion, discovering things about each that shouldn’t be inked, tasting their cums and thrashing round the bed in their alcohol-induced naughty state.
Two months later, she realised that she was pregnant. She had no plan to kill a soul, even an unformed one. Keith was ecstatic. They announced their intention to get married.

Everyone was happy…everyone except Shalom…when she realised that her hubby earned a living by cutting up dead bodies as a pathologist! She began to resent his touch. She imagined all the crazy, horrible things she heard that those people do to lifeless bodies. Could Keith be a pervert? She had no answer to that. Her skin crawled each time she remembered that.

Mekson stares at the pastor. Could this be real? He stands, rooted to the spot. The pastor twirls, jumps and moonwalks, oblivious to the scared lone figure watching his show of shame. As he slides backward and does an almost 360 degree spin, he stops abruptly.
Oh no! What deuce brought this man here? He asked himself.

“Aaaaaaah Brother. I was rejoicing on your behalf meh. The spirit said to my spirit, ‘Stand up, go to the church, each, drink and rejoice for brother…er…er…er…Mekson…yeah, brother Mekson meh. For he is coming for thanksgiving meh’. You see, I don’t usually stay in the church this late meh, unless the spirit specifically instruct me. Today, I heard the voice, very clear. It said, ‘My son, go and wait for my son, for he is coming for thanksgiving. And when you are under anointing, you perform exploit, like you saw me doing a while back meh.

“So, what brought you here at such an ungodly hour? No, I mean, I know why you are here because the spirit informed me beforehand. Your prayers have been answered,” Pastor James stuttered, cursing under his breath. He should have closed that door!
He reaches for his white face towel and wipes beads of sweat off his face.

Mekson’s present state of mind is incapable of rationale thinking. The only thing that dominates his mind presently is the hangman’s noose, following him everywhere in his room.
“Pastor, my wife is chasing me about. She wants to kill me,” he said.

“Your wife? Where is she? Why? What did you do to her?” Pastor James asked him, looking fugitively behind Mekson.
“My dead wife pastor. She’s been buried in her village and she wouldn’t let me be,” Mekson whined.
“Dead wife meh?” Pastor James echoed, looking frantically around him.
This is getting more than he bargained for. No need meddling with the dead.

“My business is er…er…er…with the living and not the dead…” Pastor James began, searching for words.
“Look pastor, I realised that I was supposed to come for thanksgiving which I didn’t come for. I was very busy, that’s why I’m coming so late,” Mekson said urgently.

“Yeah…yeah…thanksgiving meh. You’re supposed to have come for thanksgiving meh. Are you ready for thanksgiving meh? But you said…”

The pastor is scared. He’s torn between the greed for money and the wrath of the dead. Why would a dead wife come after her husband? This is getting freaky. He definitely won’t spend the night with this man here…but first, the thanksgiving…
Oh boy! I’m almost freaking out here. You wouldn’t want to miss out on this. I wouldn’t also. So let’s keep a date here on Sunday.

 

•Send your observations to:  julietbumah@gmail.com

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