tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85673500330745365932024-03-12T15:59:26.652-07:00THE SCRIBBLES ROYALa week in my mind and you won't want to go home...Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-80751196065734024702014-07-31T10:33:00.001-07:002014-07-31T10:33:27.723-07:00King Ode Kahn and the Curse of The Royal Sceptre (Part 2)<div style="text-align: justify;">
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felt like King Kahn had just awakened from a nightmare. His mind
struggled to comprehend what had just occurred in his throne room. Merely
moments ago, he had been sitting on this very throne struggling with the boredom of
having to choose a wife from a crowd of women wanting to be his queen. Now, he
had witnessed what looked like a suicide by a woman who had apparently taken
the power of everlasting wood from his sceptre. In his hand, he held what
Ozor's spell had replaced his sceptre with, a piece of dried wood. A stick. The
guards had tried to settle the confused crowd who had immediately realized what they had
witnessed and quickly been gripped with fear. Everyone in
the kingdom knew the origin of the sceptre and the power it possessed. As kids,
they were told of the great Genesis wars where the first Kahn, Doro Kahn, had
forged the sceptre from the the celestial Falus and had infused it with the
power of everlasting wood sent down from the heavens by the great god Ayagra.
The sceptre had been a sign of peace, prosperity and stability in the kingdom
and no Kahn had ever ruled without having the power of everlasting wood. To
lose it, was to lose his throne, people and ultimately the kingdom. It had barely been thirty minutes after the incident
and the people were already in a state of disarray. Total chaos may has obviously only
moments away. King Kahn slumped into his throne, feeling both confused and
afraid. The images of Ozor slicing her throat repeatedly flashed in his mind.
Her words kept echoing in his head as the images of her blood slithering
towards him and wrapping itself around his arm replayed themselves in his mind. </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">"T</span><span style="background: white;">oday, the era of the Kahn's will come to an end. Today, you lose your
power. You lose Kongdobia". A voice from the crowd screamed "King Kahn. You must give
me audience. I need to speak to you about what has just happened before all
hope is lost". Still in a daze, Ode Kahn motioned for the whoever it was to be brought forward. One guard immediately forced his way into he crowd, past several visibly irritated people and fished out the one who had spoken. He brought her before the throne saying "Your highness, it was this little girl who spoke". She was a little girl, no more than 16 years of age, dressed in old garments which looked tattered and unwashed. Her hair was long, blonde, thick and matted. She looked like she had not seen the inside of a washroom in a very long time, but king Kahn cared not for her appearance at this time for he was more interested in what she had to say. "You were the girl who spoke? Tell me, what do you know of what happened here moments ago" said King Kahn. </span></div>
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Beeb had always wondered why people mistook him for a girl. He had examined himself many times and had never noticed anything about himself which could possibly lead people to continuously assume he was a girl. When he was much younger, people who had mistaken him for a girl usually felt the wrath of his very scathing tongue. However, his father, being the wise man he had always been, had thought Beeb to respond to situations with a bit more deliberation rather than impulse. This was why, when the guard who held his arm had introduced him to the King as "The girl who spoke", he had deliberated carefully on whether or not he would kick the guard in the crotch for making such a stupid mistake. He decided not to at this time.The guard relinquished his vice-like grip on Beeb's arm and Beeb immediately bowed to the king, while muttering under his breath about how much of an idiot the guard had been."King Kahn,.." began Beeb, my name is Beeb, son of Banj of the house of Ber. I'm sorry for screaming so disrespectfully in your presence but we have no time to waste. You must come with me immediately or else..", "Watch your tongue peasant" interrupted the guard who had brought Beeb forward, "you are in the presence of a Kahn. He will go nowhere with the likes of you". "Enough Akunai" said Ode Kahn as he rose from the throne and walked slowly towards Beeb who immediately bowed his head respectfully. "You say your name is Beeb? from house Ber? I know your house. Banj, your father, was once the greatest entertainer in this kingdom. What does the son of a once great entertainer know about what has occurred here today? Speak. Beeb raised his head and kissed his teeth at Akunai the guard before replying king Kahn. "Yes, my father was once a great entertainer till he journeyed to the west to seek more fortune and fame. However, my father is also the reason I am here with knowledge of what this woman has done here. You must speak with him immediately or you will lose everything you hold true and dear. Many years ago, my father foresaw the events of today in a vision and made me attend each and every presentation hoping to thwart the efforts of the Edochies before their servant could accomplish her diabolical plans, but I failed. My father had seen the events of today in a vision but did neither knew the exact moment when it would occur, nor the exact identity of the servant, he only knew that if the Edochie's succeeded, it would mean the end of your reign and your life. I could stay here all day and tell you everything I know about the things to come but it would be wise to hear it from my father instead. Please, we do not have much time to waste. You must come with me" </div>
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<span style="background: white;">King Ode Kahn listened to Beeb intently, occasionally catching glimpses of Akunai </span><span style="background-color: white;">gnashing his teeth and leering at Beeb as he spoke. When Beeb had finished speaking, Ode considered his current predicament. The royal sceptre had been taken from him and the power of everlasting wood was no longer in his possession. Only the gods knew what sort of consequences he and his kingdom would face if he the sceptre and its power remained absent from him. Beeb and Banj seemed to be the only people at the moment with any answers to the numerous questions he had swirling around in his head. I</span><span style="background-color: white;">t would be foolish not to explore the possibilities of a solution by visiting the house of Bar. He turned to Akunai "Ready the royal whip, Akunai. We will be going to the house of Bar tonight"</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Apart from his drink and drugs Banj didn't enjoy many things in life anymore. As a young boy he had loved to sing and dance and practiced for hours non-stop in the family courtyard. As a young man, he had traveled</span><span style="background-color: white;"> to every corner of Kongdobia performing for the rich and poor because he simply loved to express himself through his art. As an older man, he had journeyed to the west in search of more adoration, wealth and recognition but had found only a vulnerability in himself for debauchery. Sex, drugs and alcohol may have stolen his gift for art but it had given this old man something else, sight. Banj and gone to the west as an entertainer and returned as a seer. Even though he could not sing as he used to because the seerup had irrecoverably damaged his vocal cords and he could not move his body as freely as he did in his prime because the kokane and mariwana had left his body weak and shrivelled, Banj the uneducated boy from the house of Bar had now been given the gift of sight. Banj sat slumped in his favorite chair, facing the entrance to his home. A few hours ago, he had poured a sizable amount of kokane on the table in front of him and snorted it all within minutes. Seconds later, he had fallen into his customary high where he saw visions of</span><span style="background-color: white;"> son, Beeb, distracted by the ample bosom of a woman, </span><span style="background-color: white;">supposedly waiting for her turn to present herself for the king's consideration,</span><span style="background-color: white;"> in the palace throne room. The image was then replaced with visions of</span><span style="background-color: white;"> a woman slicing her throat in the throne room of the palace and the royal sceptre vanishing from the king's hand. When the visions finally faded and his mind returned to reality, he knew what he feared for years had become real. Years ago he had seen a similar vision, albeit not as vivid as the one he just had, and had done all he could to try and prevent the events which he now knew had occurred in the palace. Since the Edochie's had succeeded in stealing the power of everlasting wood from king Kahn, Beeb would have to convince the king to meet with him because it would be only a matter of time before things took a turn for the worst in the kingdom. Banj sat in his chair, smoking his homegrown mariwana through his khalifa pipe and staring at the door hoping Beeb would walk through them with King Kahn. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white;">The journey from the palace had not been an easy one but they finally arrived at the doorstep of Banj & Beep's home. The house of Bar had never been known for wealth or prosperity and Beeb's father had been the only one in the bloodline to ever attain recognition through his music. After his decline in fame, Banj had returned to his family home in the squalor of Kongdobia's moochin district where neighbors claimed he drowned himself in alcohol, drugs and women of questionable virtue. It was no place for a king to grace with his presence but Ode had seen a certain sincerity in Beeb as he spoke in the throne room earlier. It would not cost him anything to investigate the claims the boy made. Still, Akunai looked very displeased with the whole affair and cautioned the king once more as Beeb opened the door, steeped into the house and invited them to come into his home. "Sire, I urge you to reconsider what you are doing. Pay no mind to this wretched child and his delinquent father. Let us take leave of this place before the tongues of peasants begin to wag. Surely we are able to retrieve the royal sceptre without consorting with drug addicts and alcoholics". Ode turned to Akunai and replied in a stern yet calm tone "Akunai, so far, it seems like only drug addicts and alcoholics can make sense of our current situation. I will give them audience, even if it is for a few hours. If nothing worthwhile comes of this visit then I shall explore other options. For now, we consort with Beeb and his father." King Kahn walked through the entrance into the house and was immediately greeted with a the stench of uncleanliness and sloth. The living room was littered with empty bottles of seerup, alor-omo and biyer. The carpet was dirty and riddled with burn marks and alcohol stains. Unwashed clothes and dishes lay scattered all over the room and walking around in the room was a task accomplished only with careful deliberation and navigation. The room was poorly lit and by the time king Kahn's eyes had adjusted to the lighting in the room, a voice came forth from a chair overlooking the entrance of the house where Beeb and the royal guests stood. </span><span style="background-color: white;">"King Kahn, Una welcome oh. First of all, make I tell you sorry for my pikin, En no dey take eye see breast. If to sey en no be like en papa wey follow like woman too, we no go dey this wahala wey we dey so. My name na Banj, abeg make una enter, siddon, we get big matter to yarn. Una fit make unasef comfortable" King Kahn took another look at the room he had been offered to sit in by Banj and decided against making himself comfortable. "Worry not about my comfort Banj" replied Ode Kahn. "Your son tells me you have knowledge of the events that just occurred in the palace. Tell me what you know please". Banj smoked on his khalifa pipe for a few seconds before addressing the king's request. "hmmm e no go easy o. I go explain everything but wait make I high first. E dey easier for me to explain matter when I dey high". Banj continued to smoke the mariwana in his pipe as Akunai seized him by the throat. "Have you lost possession of your senses? you are in the presence of king Kahn of Kongdobia and you choose to disrespect him in this manner? You will tell him what you know or...". "Enough Akunai" bellowed Ode Kahn. "Unhand him and remove yourself from our presence. You will remain outside until my business here is concluded. Leave us". Akunai obeyed his orders with an audible grunt and exited the room while king Kahn addressed Banj "Your son repeatedly stressed how little time we had to remedy the problem we now face. Surely your preference for drugs cannot be a priority at a time like this". Banj had finished smoking and placed the khalifa pipe beside the scattered particles of kokane on the table in front of him. "I am well aware of the immediacy of our situation King Ode Kahn. As I was saying, before that idiot interrupted me so brutishly, I tend to be more coherent when I'm slightly intoxicated" King Kahn's expression prompted Banj to continue speaking "I know you are surprised. My journey to the west made me discover a lot of new things about myself both physically and mentally. For example, there was this woman I met in the kingdom of Cadashia, her name was Kaam. Or Koom. or was it Keem? I cannot remember. I do remember how big her..." "Father!" interrupted Beeb, who had been quietly standing beside the king since their arrival. "You're doing it again father" said Beeb. Banj took a second to gather his thoughts and spoke again "Yes, as I said, I needed to get high to communicate properly and I know it comes as a surprise to you. The drugs and alcohol not only give me the ability to speak like a nobleman but they also give me sight. Spiritual sight. 20 years ago I had a vision of a woman, her face shrouded by a dark malevolent cloud, bringing an end to your reign. She did this by performing an evil spell which conjured ancient spirits that once walked this land. I did not fully understand what the vision meant until I had a series of other visions, triggered by various moments of intoxication and reprobate sexual encounters...or both at the same time...depending on my mood...or how much money I had...sigh I miss having a lot of money you know...do u know how much kokane u can buy with just...". "Banj...please focus." said Ode Kahn as Banj's digression had visibly irritated him. "Oh yes. I had other visions which opened my mind to the details of the first vision. The woman was a descendant of the Edochies, the first men. I'm assuming we are all familiar with the tales of the first men and how the Edochies ruled and enslaved the people of Kongdobia until the first Kahn defeated them in the genesis wars? Well, in my visions, this woman used an ancient spell to summon the spirits of the Edochies. These forces can only be summoned by the Edochie bloodline and require the summoner to sacrifice his or her own life to complete the spell. In return, the spirits will vanquish the enemy of the summoner and grow in strength, usually by possessing a host." Banj paused to scratch his crotch area before continuing "If they are allowed to reach full strength, the spirit of the Edochie's will consume the host and the enemy of the summoner and use them to do whatever they desire...which, in this case, is to conquer kill the Kahns and conquer Kongdobia". King Kahn's attention had been wrapped around every word that came out of Banj's mouth. He did not know whether to believe the man alcoholic drug addict or order the palace physicians to assess his sanity. "Ok, lets say I believe what you have said. What do they want to the sceptre? why take it from me?". Banj seemed distracted by events occurring within the crotch of his pants "Urgh! why is this thing so damn itchy? Beeb! when was the last time you washed these?". Beeb, who had gone into the kitchen and returned with drinks for the royal guests answered "Last month father". "Last month? no wonder they are so itchy. I told you I don't like clean clothes, idiot pikin. Anyways, they took the sceptre because the power of ever lasting wood is what defeated them the last time they encountered a Kahn. The power which has been in your family for centuries is an ancient force which the Edochie's underestimated when they first fought the first Kahn. Now, they have preemptively neutralized that power by taking it away from you...or so they think." said Banj with a smirk. "What do you mean by that? " asked Ode Kahn. "Well I had another vision a few days ago that revealed the true power of the royal sceptre. It has none. Granted, it is a conduit for the power of ever lasting wood, but the power is not in the sceptre at all. It is in you. It is in the Kahn. The power of everlasting wood merely flows from you into the royal sceptre. The spirits have taken the sceptre but were not able to fully relieve you of the power you Kahn's possess. However, they did succeed in blocking it withing you. As you are, the power of ever lasting wood cannot manifest because the Edochie's spirit placed a barrier over it within you. In essence, retrieving the sceptre is pointless, what you need to do is remove the barriers to unleash the power within you before the Edochie's return to full strength. E dey make sense?". King Kahn felt like every sentence Banj uttered placed a heavy stone on his shoulders. He motioned for his guards to clear a small patch of space on a couch opposite Banj and sat down beside a small pile of used condoms, bottles and clothes. "So...ok..." he began, sounding confused and scared. "Ok so why take the sceptre and leave me with a stick? and is this why the Kahn's always had to take a wife? because a Kahn cannot fully summon the power of everlasting wood without a queen? is that why?". "Ah! you are starting to catch on King Kahn." replied "A Kahn cannot be king without the power of everlasting wood and the power cannot fully manifest for the king without a queen. As for the stick, it was simply a sign of mockery from the spirits of the Edochies. They took away the power of everlasting wood and ridicule you by replacing it with a useless piece of wood". King Kahn let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead contemplating everything he had just heard and asked "So what do I have to do". Banj called for Beeb and whispered into his ear. Beeb responded by dashing into another room and returning with a bag in his hands and placed the bag on the table with the khalifa pipe. Banj opened the bag and retrieved a small transparent pouch filled with white powder, another transparent bag filled with what looked like green shredded grass and three green bottles, one with out labels and the other two having yellow covers and yellow labels around them. He laid them out on the table carefully and when he was done, looked at king Kahn with a smile on his face and said "Kokane, e dey. Mariwana, e dey. Seerup or Alor-mor, that one sef dey. For my last vision, I see sey the only way to restore your power na to find wife. I no sey to find wife don dey hard you since tey tey so for you to find the one babe wey fit your spec, you sef go follow see vision with me. Pick one of these make me high together. You no fit do am alone because na me get the eye wey dey see spiritual tings. Pick one and we go high, you go see your wife, then you gats go find am, marry am, restore your power and save our nyash before them bad belle Edochie's use use chop suya. U hear?" King Ode Kahn sat with an expression of digust, disbelief and exhaustion on his face. It was obvious he had no other options at the moment.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Outside, listening to every word being uttered in the room, was </span><span style="background-color: white;">Akunai. After hearing Banj's offer to king Kahn, he unsheathed his sword and charged into the room. He was the head of the royal guard, he had trained most of the men remaining guards in the room with the king, it would be easy to slay them all. He burst into the room, sent his sword into the belly of the guard closest to him and screamed "In the name of the first men, the true rulers of Kongdobia, I swear to kill you all"</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">to be continued </span></div>
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Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-46719472779760840722014-07-27T12:35:00.003-07:002014-07-27T12:36:36.649-07:00King Ode Kahn and Curse of The Royal Sceptre<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the far away kingdom of Kongdobia, lived a king named Ode Kahn. King Kahn was the last descendant of royal Kahn bloodline which had sat on the throne of Kongdobia and ruled the kingdom for centuries. The Kahn bloodline was the oldest and most respected bloodline in the kingdom and was revered not only because it was a royal bloodline but also because the dynasty stretched as far as the days of the early men when Kongdobia was under the tyranny of the the barbaric Edochies. The first Kahn conquered the early men and brought about centuries of prosperity and peace to Kongdbia through the power of the royal sceptre. The royal sceptre, infused with the power of everlasting wood, had been used by the first Kahn, Doro Kahn, to subdue and defeat the first Edochie's and was traditionally passed down to the bloodline to the first son born to a ruling Kahn. King Ode Kahn, the present king of Kongdobia, had inherited this mark of power and peace from his father, Van Kahn, and had also been told that for the sceptre to maintain its power of everlasting wood, a Kahn must take a wife and use the union of man and woman to sustain the sceptre's power and prolong peace of prosperity in the kingdom. However, King Ode had found it difficult to take a wife as he had found no woman in the kingdom worthy of his affection. Ode Kahn may have been a proud king but he was also shrewd in his dealings with women of the kingdom for many of them only sought his affection to satisfy their selfish ulterior motives. It had been 16 years since Ode Kahn had come of age to take a wife and he had quickly learned that the women of Kongdobia would do and say anything to share in the glory the royal sceptre brings to the king and queen of the kingdom. Ode Kahn had been presented with hundreds of women from many houses in the kingdom and none of them had found worthy in the eyes of the Kahn. In two days, there would be another presentation of houses and every house in the kingdom would bring forth a woman who they hoped would be the next queen of Kongdobia. One house had been looking forward to this day more than any other.</div>
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Ozor sat in the middle of her living room staring at her gown. She had made it herself and adorned it with so many gems that many in the house of Kwor feared she might blind the King if he stared at her for too long. There were jewels at strategic positions on the chest and crotch area of the gown and she made extra efforts to sew in added padding at the rear of the gown just to make sure the king noticed her among the hundreds of other women who would be at the presentation the next day. Ozor was the first daughter of the house of Kwor and had been attending presentations since she was 6 years old. As a child, she had attended as spectator, watching as numerous women presented themselves in the presence of the one they had hoped would be their king, each failing to catch the attention of the King Ode the boy king. When she came of age, she attended as a prospective queen, appearing on several occasions and failing, like the women she watched as a child, to find favour in the eyes of the King Kahn. With every failed attempt, she had grown more contemptuous of the king. King Kahn had found her unworthy on so many occasions and intense feelings of scorn and disdain had filled her heart for the king. In her younger years, she wished to marry the king because she was certain he was her soul mate. She had dreamt of kissing him in the throne room, basking in the glory of the royal sceptre of everlasting wood and ruling Kongdobia at the right hand side of the King, her husband. However, a lot had changed for Ozor between then and now. Ozor wished she could stop attending the presentations and putting herself on display for the arrogant king to embarrass with his egotistical refusals. Ozor had become the topic of kingdom gossip and she knew she was the laughing stock of the kingdom because of the her numerous attempts at winning the king's heart. She had sworn to make each and every one of them pay when she became queen. Everyone who laughed at her and mocked her would pay severely for their disrespect. The king would too, for he had been the reason they had seen her as nothing more than a pariah in the kingdom. He had shook his head in refusal to Ozor on too many occasions, but he would not tomorrow, she had made sure of it. She had made efforts to ensure that tomorrow would be King Kahn's last presentation and he would either choose her as his queen or Kongdobia would need a new king. She continued staring at her gem-covered gown for the presentation running her fingers across the seams and gems in the gown with a malicious smile on her face.</div>
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Ode Kahn had lost count of the number of presentations he had been made to attend. He had definitely also lost count of the number of women who had attended the presentations seeking to be crowned queen of Kongdobia. Sometimes a woman would step forward during the presentations and he would remember her from her previous attempts at past presentations. Some women went to great lengths to sway his affection their way. Some would sing, some of would dance, some of sing and dance at the same time and some would sing and dance while taking their clothes off in his presence. Sometimes these presentations amused him, other times they left him feeling exasperated. He had given up being optimistic about these presentations and had attended them with a certain nonchalance which tended to annoy some of the heads of the house presenting their women. He did not care though, as far as he was concerned, all they wanted were the wealth of the Kahn and the power of the Sceptre. They would never get it as long as he remained King of Kongdobia. "Today's presentation would likely be no different from the rest" thought Ode Kahn as he walked down the royal hallway heading to the throne room, royal sceptre in hand. "Who knows, I may finally find a wife today...unlike the other 300 times I've tried" he thought sarcastically as he emerged through the doors into the throne room and was greeted with the royal trumpets blaring the Kongdobian anthem. He walked to his throne, taking a moment to look around the room and estimating how many houses and women were in attendance. He motioned to the trumpeters to cease playing and addressed the crowd, "Good morning Kongdobia. It is I, your King. Tradition demands that a King Kahn must have a queen for the kingdom to prosper under the protection of the royal sceptre and its everlasting wood. With this in mind, you are all here, yet again, to hopefully witness me find one of the women here worthy to sit at my right hand. I will not bore you with my words anymore, let us begin..." </div>
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Ozor watched as women from every house in the kingdom presented themselves to King Kahn and each of them had been found unworthy. Ozor had been comparing each of these women to herself throughout the presentations and had concluded that they were neither as pretty as she was or as royally dressed as her. She had painted and blushed her face with the best powders of the kingdom and had doused herself with the richest perfumes she could find. Her hair had been tended to by the best stylists in Kongdobia and her handmade dress had no equal in the throne room today. King Kahn would have no choice but to choose her to be his queen. He would have to because no other option would be advisable for him or the kingdom. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the words of the royal announcer, "None have been found worthy yet! Next, Ozor of the house of Kwor. Present yourself to his highness, King Kahn of Kongdobia"</div>
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Ode Khan was already exhausted. He had stopped counting at 102 and hours of presentations had left him tired and irritable. So far, he had been presented with a poem which had been recited by a woman with a voice more deep and coarse than that of the first Kahn. He had been tortured with a song and dance rendition which he mistook for a demonic possession and one woman had told him, in explicit detail, how being his queen would grant him unlimited access to the wonders between her legs. She even brought her former lovers to testify to the goodness of the wonders, which they took turns in doing. All 10 of them. He glanced at the crowd of remaining women who had yet to present themselves and let out an inaudible sigh. If he had known this was what he would have to endure as King of Kongdobia, his first act as king would have been to either abolish these presentations or simply have every woman in the nation tested for cases of malady or psychosis. King Kahn was lost in his own thoughts as the next women stepped forward to present herself. However, the sight of her quickly jolted him back to reality. </div>
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Ozor stepped forward in her long flowing gem-endowed dress and the sunlight from the windows struck her dress in such an angle that the glare blinded many in the throne room. Those who were not blinded by the glare from the gems on the dress were not spared an assault on their sense as her perfume forced many to cover their noses not because the scent was foul but because it was so intense and overpowering. She approached the center of the presentation circle and bowed to the king who, at this point, was shielding his eyes with his left hand and waving his sceptre at her. Ozor could not help but smile, the king had obviously seen that she was the only woman in the hall worthy to be called his queen..</div>
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Ode Kahn did not know which of his senses to protect first. With the royal sceptre in his right hand. he had shielded his eyes with his left and attempted to use the sceptre to fan away the severely potent scent which had filled the throne room. He peaked through his fingers to catch a glimpse of the woman who was presenting herself and immediately knew that even if he could forgive the blinding dress and the offensive perfume, he could not forgive the monstrous makeup and hairdo she had chosen for her presentation. She had face as pale as the buttocks of snow giants and had blushed her cheeks redder than ripe tomatoes. Her eyelashes were so long and thick that he could swear he heard her blink and her hair had been extended and dyed with so many colours that he could not tell if she was a woman or a rainbow. She had barely began to introduce herself when he made his decision. </div>
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"Unworthy?!!" Ozor thought as she stared at the king with her mouth agape. She had barely even begun her introduction. She attempted to speak again and the king simply waved his hand in refusal and motioned her to leave. "My goodness woman.." he said. "Why did you chose to assault your king and your people this way? Did you do this on purpose or was this a cruel mistake the gods allowed you to make? Please, for the sake of this throne room and the people within it, remove yourself from our presence." Ozor stood there, soaked in shame. Once again she had been found unworthy, but this time, the King had worsened his refusal by embarrassing her in front of hundreds. She could hear the disapproving comments from the people in the crowd, "My goodness, what was she thinking?", "Is she mad, did she want to kill us?", "Isn't this her 100th appearance at these presentations? maybe she got desperate". The comments, the refusal, the embarrassment, it all made her shame quickly contort into anger. Anger that would be the end of King Kahn and his kingdom. "ENOUGH!!!" She screamed as she wiped tears from her eyes. "I said enough! King Kahn you have embarrassed me for the last time. I have watched you refuse nothing but mad and horny women all day today and you refuse me too? Do you really consider me equals with these horrible mistakes that have tried to win your affection today? I give you one more chance. Look upon me again and find me worthy or your refusal will bring doom to you and your kingdom". Look upon me again King Kahn...it is for your own good.</div>
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"Surely not another mad woman" thought King Kahn. "Only a mad woman would subject her king and her people to such punishment and then aggregate her circumstances by threatening the king in his throne room". He motioned to his guards while still speaking to Ozor, " There is no way in 7 hells that I will find you worthy. You have appeared before me in the most ridiculous outfits and insulted me in my own home. Guards! escort this woman out of the palace. I have had enough of these ludicrous presentations for one day. If she dares speak another word against me..." his words were interrupted by Ozor has a bright burst of light shot forth from where she stood.</div>
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While the King had been talking,, Ozor dislodged several gems from her dress, muttered incantations under her breath and hurled them at the ground. a bright light exploded from the the gems as they hit the floor and it rendered everyone in the room paralysed. She looked around the room, ensuring that no one could move and made her way towards King Kahn who was sitting on his throne completely motionless with his left hand still shielding his eyes and his royal sceptre pointed towards Ozor. "Unworthy?" she began, as she pulled out a dagger from under her gown. "You find me unworthy, King Kahn? You find me disrespectful to you and insulting to your kingdom? Do you realize how many times you have rejected me? Do you know how many times you've left me insulted and disrespected right in this very room?". She leaned in towards King Kahn's face, pressing the blade of her dagger on his neck. "You think you are so handsome don't you. With your pretty face and royal sceptre. You think you are every woman's dream, that's why you so arrogantly refuse us every month. Month after month, we gather here to stroke your ego and make you feel even more pompous because you are the King Kahn who cannot find a worthy women to be his queen. No more I say. No more!" She pressed the dagger into the king's neck and blood tricked onto the blade. "I know you can not move, but you can hear me. I could have killed you, you know? Killed you right here and none of your guards or your magic sceptre would be able to save you. I won't though" Ozor dislogded another set of gems from her gown and smeared the king's blood on the gems. "You love that royal sceptre so much King Kahn. You and your ancestors used your everlasting wood to conquer this land and crown yourselves rulers of Kongdobia. You killed the first Edohies and almost ended our bloodline. That sceptre was what gave you the power to take the lives of my fathers and almost end our bloodline. Even till this day, you Kahns still find ways to torment us. You mock me in a kingdom you stole from my fathers. You deem me unworthy to rule as queen of a land where I should be seen as a deity rather than some poor unfortunate woman seeking your affection. No more King Kahn. Today, the era of the Kahn's will come to an end. Today, you lose your power. You lose Kongdobia". She stepped back, away from the king, to the center of the throne room and with blood stained gems in hand, stretched out her arms and began reciting</div>
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"Blood of a Kahn, blood of a first, here my voice. I am Ozor, of the house of Kwor. Daughter of the first bloodline and avenger of the Edochies. Fathers, hear my words. Your kingdom was stolen, your slaves have forgotten their masters and your murderers rule your lands. I, Ozor of the house of Kwor, hereby give my life to restore what was yours. The Kahns and their royal sceptre of everlasting wood took what was not theirs to take. Today, with the blood of a Kahn on my life gems, and my life as an offering, take from them as they took from you. This I ask, with my life."</div>
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King Kahn had been forced to watch Ozor, completely unable to move. He had felt the blade prick his neck and had tried to move his hands to stop Ozor but couldn't. He watched her smear his blood on gems, recite her incantation and then slit her throat. He screamed for her to stop, but no sound came forth from his mouth. His body slumped to the ground, blood pouring from her throat and forming a dark red pool around her body. Suddenly, the blood moved. It moved like a thick red snake, flowing across the floor of the throne room towards the throne. Sllithering it's way up King Kahn's legs, across his chest and arm and unto the sceptre. King Kahn felt the blood curl itself around his arm and the sceptre and then a sharp burning sensation quickly followed. The blood seemed to be burning the sceptre but leaving King Ode Kahn's arm unharmed. Merely seconds later, the blood floated off his arm into the air and then explode into absolute nothingness, immediately releasing Ode Kahn and everyone in the room from their paralysis. King Kahn immediately clutched his throat, hoping to stop anymore blood flow, if any. He looked around the throne room, ushering his guards to inquire about the safety of his subjects. He then suddenly realized everyone in the room was now staring at him, specifically the royal sceptre in his hand. Confused, he looked at the sceptre, and realised why they had all been staring, the sceptre of ever lasting wood was gone. What he held in his hand was a mere stick. Suddenly, a voice from the crowd said</div>
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"By the gods, it has happened. King Kahn...we are in grave danger. I should have known. I should have stopped it. Now, we will all die"</div>
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To be Continued</div>
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Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-73952088608264366132014-07-11T17:16:00.002-07:002014-07-11T17:32:20.009-07:00A love letter to my fingers<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>Dear Fingers,</i></b></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I don't think I give you guys enough credit. I do not show you how much I care about you and appreciate everything you do for me. You've been an ever-present companion. An friend who literally sticks closer than a brother. You have been there for me in times of uncertainty, curiosity, weakness and strength. This is just my way of showing how much you mean to me and it is but a minute rendition of how I really feel and an insufficient portrayal of your true worth.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Fingers, you have been with me since birth. From my curious infancy to my inquisitive adulthood, y</i></span><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">ou have been a constant channel for many moments of uncertainty and exploration. </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With every moment, when my need to "know" has peaked, you have been the pioneer explorer</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> and have consequently been </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">a victim of my unending and insatiable curiosity. I have placed you into numerous situations which have left you burned, numb, electrocuted, pricked and sliced. For this, I am sorry. My curiosity has been your undoing on several occasions and even though I can not promise that you will no longer be victim of my need to investigate and understand the things of the world, I can promise that with every instance where I send you forth to chart unknown territory, be it the temperature of the face of a pressing iron, sharpness of a blade or possibility of current passing through a set of wires, y</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">ou will have sacrificed yourself and </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">your selflessness will never go unappreciated ever again. I am also certain my tongue and nose appreciate your sacrifice as well because we all know that if I had no fingers and I wanted to check how hot a bucket of water was, they would be the ones I'd use in your place. Imagine.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As a child, I sucked my thumb. I sucked that finger to the point where it started looking pale and shriveled like I had Joan Rivers for a finger. Finger, y</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">ou spent an obscene amount of time in my mouth where you were drenched in toddler saliva and suffered relentless sucking. I did this without considering your well-being and I reaped nothing but selfish infantile satisfaction. As if this wasn't enough, I've made you pick, pull and flick in my nose, ears and mouth and you did it all without a single complaint. Like some deranged nasal-miner, I've made you pull boogers from my nose. You've picked food from between my teeth when I was too barbaric to use a toothpick and I've stuck you into my own throat to jump-start vomits. For all this and more, I am sorry. I'm sorry it took me this long to acknowledge your bravery and realize that without you, I am just a man with a nose full of boogers.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Fingers, they have been carnal and you have not judged them. I say "they" and "them" because you and I have never been involved in anything deviant, unlike these lustful hedonists. These heathens have forced you to</i></span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> explore, pinch, poke and prod in so many lewd places simply for sensual</i><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> gratification and you have done it all with total disregard for your own moral disposition and hygiene. We both know that they fail to recognize your contribution to most of their coital activities and may never ever see you for the real maverick you are when it comes to poking and sliding. That is why I am taking it upon myself to be a proxy for their appreciation. On their behalf, I'd like to thank you for letting them use you to fulfill their lecherous desires and I hope that this letter will make more people appreciate the work you do so effortlessly and willingly.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As I come to the end of this letter, I'd like to also highlight some of the things you do that has gone unappreciated by myself and a large portion of society. Thank you for being there for us when we want to point, click, swipe, pick, twiddle, press, double-tap and so much more. They may seem like menial tasks but you do them without pride or prejudice. Please accept this letter for what it is, a acknowledgement of your importance and miniature token of my appreciation.</span></i><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXDd5DLGIN3Z_nm4Jr2jV9ep-LqzJ1VA_ZNbiAlPywp18jHXHctjrLJNF9OtUwiOyTwAJoI2lm6UqJYay8vSWW01xhk_0fiwEgpEI7UcMC76P9bCWFaLfLEHX4IGV4pbJmd8z0Jehuedg/s320/20140709_171805-770725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXDd5DLGIN3Z_nm4Jr2jV9ep-LqzJ1VA_ZNbiAlPywp18jHXHctjrLJNF9OtUwiOyTwAJoI2lm6UqJYay8vSWW01xhk_0fiwEgpEI7UcMC76P9bCWFaLfLEHX4IGV4pbJmd8z0Jehuedg/s320/20140709_171805-770725.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Fingers, you the real MVP.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Robert. </span></i></div>
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I was listening to Chris Brown's "Loyal" and the chorus just makes me laugh all the time, "When a rich nigga wants you, and your man can't do nothing for you...". It's funny because this is actually a serious problem. Money is changing the way people are dating, particularly in Nigeria. Personally, I think it's a combination of several factors but the main one is definitely greed.</div>
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Please note that from here on out, when I say "Rich guys", I'm not referring to the recharge card buyers and PHCN electricty credit suppliers. There're levels to this.... </div>
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Love is expensive these days. I say this because I believe I'm not the only one who agrees that falling in love is now a financial investment. You need to consider if you have the capital to start the relationship and the deep pockets to maintain a certain standard of living for you and your partner. Why? because for every girlfriend out there, there are over 20 other guys, both single and married, who will gladly be willing to invest in your woman. Am I being to ambiguous? Ok let me rephrase. Your girlfriend could have 20 boyfriends, including you, and those 20 boyfriends will be capable of taking care of her whether you can or can not. Let me make one thing clear at this point, this is in no way a generalization. This isn't the case for every girlfriend and not every relationship is vulnerable to the outside influence of money. Not every Nigerian girl is swayed by money and it doesn't even matter how well off the girl is, whether rich or poor, not every Nigeria girl can be financially manipulated. However, we're talking about the ones that can be swayed because their gist is far more interesting isn't it? Exactly. </div>
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Now I'll ask you ladies this question, What do you do when a rich guy wants you and your present man can't take care of you? I know the first reference for most of your replies will be "Love". If you love your present man, no amount of money will sway you to leave him for a rich guy. Right?...story. That's in theory isn't it? Granted, some girls will fend off every rich guy who tries to steal her from her man but there are a good number of girlfriends out there who will switch lanes quicker than a premature ejac' in fast-forward. You see greed is simply wanting more than you need and that's the source of the recurring problem we're see in relationships today. One guy has multiple girlfriend's, each one serving some carnal coital purpose, all predominately acquired by financial persuasion. On the other side, one girl has multiple "benefactors" who she informally exchanges "companionship" with for money because money makes her life so much better. The sheer excess of money in the hands of the sexually-greedy Nigerian man, combined with the a greedy Nigerian girl's insatiable financial appetite, all combine to form the growing trend of multi-dating in Nigeria. Am I exaggerating? Well answer this then, If a rich guy comes for a girl who is dating a man who can't take care of her, do you think the rich guy's chances of getting the girl are slim? Haba! "...these hoes aint loyal".</div>
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Loyalty and faithfulness are disappearing fast among Nigerian relationships. There's obviously no official statistic except the fact that as you are reading this, you know at least one guy with multiple girlfriends and/or one girl with multiple boyfriends. Greed. We cant see to have enough of anything these days. The motive is, if you can have more, why settle for less. For the rich guy, it's an ego-fueled challenge to acquire wealth and use this wealth to acquire female companionship. It's not just about the sex. It's about the immoral satisfaction of ego. The more women he can "maintain", the more satisfied his ego becomes. Problem is, egos are usually insatiable. For the girl, the chance of a rich guy coming into your life holds the promise of a better standard of living. The more guys you maintain, the higher your standard of living. Couple that with the general state of of the Nigerian education system and labour market and you have a situation where multiple boyfriends and high influx of multi-dating cash seems more lucrative than filling out job applications.</div>
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The thing is, I can understand why money is such a deciding factor these days. Why would a girl want to suffer when she can enjoy. Why would she want a trip to Obudu cattle ranch for Valentine's day when someone can offer her a weekend in Paris? It's almost insane to invest in Kito when you could be rocking red bottoms. Can a brother really afford to fall in love then? In this economic-relationship market? Like i said, we are not generalizing here. It would be a waste of time for one "good girl" to start a riot just because I'm saying loyalty is a myth in the face of money. Don't fight me, fight the hoes.</div>
Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-1981045455204009482011-07-12T18:01:00.001-07:002011-07-24T10:28:54.555-07:00Transformers: Obi's H.E.A.D. II<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">Episode Recap:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">Dr. Saint Obi: Formerly in possession of the Sphere but killed while being pursued by Eguje</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">Eguje: Anunobicon who transforms into a Police car. Ordered to retrieve H.E.A.D. at all costs</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">Somto Okoro: Nephew of Dr. Saint Obi and currently in possession of The Sphere</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">Gidibee: Robot who transforms into a Yellow Black Taxi. Currently protecting H.E.A.D & Somto from Eguje.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">and now for Part 2.....</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">Somto sat back in the passenger seat of what he now knew as a talking robot transforming taxi cab, GidiBee, speeding down the highway with a another transforming robot car in hot pursuit. A little light on Gidibee's dashboard lit up and "PING!!" flashed across the windshield followed by "Gidibee! Is the sphere secure?". 'I think someone's.....texting you?" Somto said. Gidibee remained silent but another message typed it's way onto the screen "Yes Prime. I've gotten H.E.A.D. Currently in my possession as well as the nephew but...", a second reply followed "...Eguje is in pursuit. Rendevous after neutralisation Brb". Seconds later, a reply flashed on the screen, "be careful Gidibee. Protect the sphere and Somto at all costs. Ttyl". Gidibee sped into a junction and swerved left, screeching tyres leaving a thick scent of burning rubber, "Somto, I need to draw Eguje away from innocent civilians. Geo-scans of the area show an abandoned construction site 0.5miles from our position so that's where were headed. Hold on"</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">They crashed through the loosely chained gate of the construction yard and Gidibee sped towards a dusty skip at the end of the yard. The passenger door popped open and he</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">swerved infront of the skip </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">tossing Somto through the open door onto the a pile</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "> of</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; "> abandoned timber and mattresses in it. "Take cover and wait Somto. Keep the sphere safe and stay low until I'm done" said Gidibee as he shifted into Robot form and aimed at the construction yard entrance with a massive revolving canon which had egressed from his right arm. Eguje sped into the yard and Gidibee fired several shots at the pursuing Anunobicon who veered, transformed mid-drive and rolled under the last 2 shota before diving headfirst into Gidibee's midsection sending the grunting yellow & black robot crashing into the uncompleted building behind. Somto watched as Eguje threw punches at Gidibee who blocked and ducked each one before landing a metal crunching uppercut, sending the Anunobicon flying backwards. Eguje rolled to its feet, pulled out a canon from it's left thigh and shot at Gidibee who took cover behind subsequent pillars as Eguje blasted each one to bits. The Anunobicon charged at him shooting as Gidibee pulled out a thick metal rod from an uncompleted pillar and hurled it at Eguje, spearing him in d shoulder. He pulled out the rod from his shoulder, which bled sparks and pieces of metal, just in time to parry a Gidibee left hook but not the following midriff kick which sent the anunobicon staggering backwards. Eguje fired at the advancing Gidibee who deftly sidestep the shot, grabbed its firing arm and crashed his elbow into it, severing it from Eguje's body. He then grabbed the severed arm and swung it at Eguje, smacking the damaged Anunobicon in the face. The defiant one-armed Anunobicon threw a fleeting punch at Gidibee who leaned away from it and blasted the arm off with a severing canon shot to the shoulder. The armless Eguje feebly kicked Gidibee backwards & shifted back into its police car form, in an attempt to escape but it was futile as Gidibee took aim and fired a flurry of shots landing scorching hits on the fleeing police car which flipped and spun with each hit before hitting the ground as a lifeless heap of metal. Somto, still hiding in the skip, emerged with the sphere in hand as Gidibee approached him with his canon retracting back into his right arm. "Are you ok Somto?" He asked. "I'm fine" Somto replied, staring at d downed Anunobicon, "...that was friggin amazing!!". "Thank you but we must move quickly and rendevous with the others" said Gidibee as he shifted back into the yellow and black taxi cab. Somto slid into d passenger seat and they pulled out of the construction yard and drove off. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; ">They'd parked in large backalley and Somto stood beside Gidibee while he transformed into Robot form, pulled out a little black device from its left wrist and began typing on it "Wait while I ping the others" said Gidibee. A few minutes later, Somto heard the sound of approaching vehicles and a series of bright headlights appear at the other end of the alley. As they got closer, Somto recognised each vehicle: a silver Honda Accord on the far left, a black Hummer right beside it, a red volkswagen Camper on the far right and Big blue Tipper with a red bonnet in the centre. The vehicles stopped a few yards from Somto and Gidibee with d Tipper further forward than the rest and, just like Gidibee and Eguje, they transformed. The Accord shifted into a mid-sized robot who stepped over to the wall on his right and leaned on it playing what sounded like "Bad Guy". The Camper shifted into a larger-sized robot and step forward towards Somto. The Hummer transformered into a bulkier Robot than the last two and finally the Tipper transformed into a gigantic Robot who walked towards Somto, crouched and spoke</span></span><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><b>"Good evening Somto Okoro"</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> it said. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">"....Goo-good evening..." replied a stuttering Somto. </span></div><div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"Do not be afraid. We mean you no harm"</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span"> said the Tipper robot.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; " ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; " >"err ok. Shey you will explain what's been going on abi? cos one minute I'm getting a glass of water at home and the next, I'm being chased by a crazy police car robot and watching two robots beat the crap out of each other from the comfort of a skip". </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"All will be explained soon Somto. Do you have the sphere?"</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span"> asked the Tipper. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; ">"Yes I do" replied somto, handing over the seemingly coveted object to him.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">The robot took the sphere and latched it onto an exposure in its chest which clamped the sphere down. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; " ><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; ">"Finally brothers, we've retrieved H.E.A.D. Please Somto, permit me to introduce </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; ">ourselves.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; ">"</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-family: 'courier new'; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">He turned to the accompanying robots and began: </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; ">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>We are the Lasmabots. This is 2-Shot</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; ">" </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; ">pointing at the Hummer Robot to his right.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span">"My Lieutenant and our weapons expert. We've seen many battles together and he's both a fine soldier and a loyal friend</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; ">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; ">2-Shot pulled out massive glowing canons on each of his arms and looked at each of them before staring at Somto saying "</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>..492 and countinng....</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; ">".</span></div><div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; ">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><b>He's been keeping count of the number of Anunobicons he's deautomated." </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span">said Egbon who proceeded to his left, </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span">This is Panelbeater, our chief medical officer.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Many Lasmabots have been saved from de-automation thanks of him.</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span"> Panelbeater, who'd been approached by Gidibee, seemed to be scanning his fellow Lasmabot. He nodded at Somto and said to Gidibee</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> <span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>No serious damage detected Gidibee. Nice work"</b></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span">Egbon continued, "</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Our intelligence expert, Diskus</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span">" gesturing to the leaning Honda Accord robot who immediately stopped the playing music and sprang towards them on introduction </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span">Yes boss!</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span">" Diskus said. </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"How far Somto wetin dey happen? I hear sey you and Gidibee enter small gbese before. Gidibee handle the situation like a boss abi? Sure bot!</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span">"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Where did you learn to talk like that" asked Somto, to which Egbon replied. "</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Gidilounge. He's spent quite some time studying human culture and communication. Apparently this language & English are the most common syntax of communication.</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span">" Suddenly the music started playing again </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Yes boss</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span">" said Diskus "</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Somto no worry, boyz don show and Egbon dey your side so, nothing dey happen.</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Egbon proceed "</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>You've already met our recon officer Gidibee. I am Egbon Prime, leader of the Lasmabots. We have come here from our home planet Alabatron in search of this sphere, the Hyper Evo-Alabatron Database or H.E.A.D. You must have a lot of questions and hopefully this will answer them"</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Alabatron was once a peaceful planet where our race flourished for many megacenturies, surviving on our power source, Alomogeon. As our technology and intelligence evolved, a rogue faction called the Anunobicons, led by the malevolent Eucharitron, sought to seize power of our planet, all its Alomogeon and thereafter, the galaxy. We, the Lasmabots, chose to fight back and thus began the Alabatronian civil war. We fought for many centuries and inevitably depleted our planets resources, draining it of all its Alomogeon. In the end, our planet could no longer sustain our race and the battles between the Lasmabots and Anunobicons spread to other parts of the galaxy. This sphere is the origin of our planet. It is the pinnacle of Alabatronian engineering and contains the purest known form of Alomogeon. It basically holds the key to saving Alabatron. Many years ago, the first Prime, Arugbo Prime, embarked on a mission to discover a planet void of life so we could rebuild Alabatron with the sphere. However he was ambushed by Euchariatron and his fiendish Anunobicons before he could locate a viable uninhabited planet. He fought valiantly and managed to fend them off but was mortally wounded and couldn't complete his mission. He made it to earth and that's where your uncle, Dr. Saint Obi, through circumstances we are not quit certain of yet, found him and the sphere. We sent Gidibee in search of both of them and after searching countless planets, he tracked them down to Earth but </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; ">only found Arugbo's crashed ship which was void of both Arugbo and the Sphere. </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">We had hoped the knowledge of its location was only known to us but after Gidibee encountered Anunobicon presence on earth, he pinged us for reinforcements. The Anunobicon you encountered earlier was Euchariatron's, as human's call it, hitman. A ruthless assassin who was probably ordered to retrieve the sphere too and even though Gidibee handled Eguje, I fear Euchariatron will not be so easily swept aside"</span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Seeeeeeeeen" said Somto, who had been listening intently. "So basically, that thing I was carry about is capable if birthing a planet? Na wa! and Gidibee tossed me into a skip with it in my hands? what if it had exploded or something? hmmmmm!. Ok so now that you have it, what will you do next?". he asked</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"I'm hoping we can use the sphere's original schematic to rebuild our planet somwhere else. Euchariatron seeks to use Earth as a draft from Alabatron, wiping away humanity and replacing it with Alabatronians. Dr Obi had transcribed Alabatronian text he received from Arugbo Prime before he died and the schematics of the sphere must have been in his possession."</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Err..schematics?" asked a puzzled Somto. "Nope. No idea about that. I did notice some suitcases back home when I first saw the sphere though" </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"Then they must still be in those suitcases. We must head back to your residence and retrieve them before Euchariatrtron. If Eguje knew the sphere was at your house then the other Aninobicons must have been informed too. We must......."</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Egbon paused mid-setence, staring intensely behind him...</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"What is it Egbon"</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> asked Panelbeater.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"LASMABOTS!!...</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span">" bellowed Egbon, who had suddenly unsheathed a glowing matchet from his right hand and had a massive canon in the other. </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"Battle formation! We have company...."</b></span></span></div></div></div></div></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-19368349636357864102011-07-06T12:45:00.000-07:002011-07-16T08:20:24.908-07:00Transformers: Obi's H.E.A.D. I<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">6:34pm. Somto slowly walked home, he recounted how dreadfully boring another day at college had been. He'd managed to muster no motivation for school so far, nothing in general excited him anymore and once again, he felt like his sanity was gradually sipping away courtesy of his constantly dreary life. He tapped a button on his phone, stared at the screen for a few seconds and let out a defeating sigh. "No mentions. No DMs" he said to himself. as much as nothing mattered to him anymore, it also seemed like he didn't matter to anyone either. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">He arrived at the gate to the house and banged on it, waiting for d gateman to respond. As Kasali unbolted the gate's locks, Somto noticed the police car parked across the street with its tinted windows. "...still there sha...weird" he thought as he once again tried to catch a glimpse of the driver through the tinted windows but couldn't. He'd noticed it 3 days ago and thought it was just making a routine patrol of the neighbourhood but it had parked and not moved from that spot since. Kasali opened the gate, distracting Somto from present thought, and greeted him with his trademark "welcome small oga." Somto walked past the gateman, who looked slightly irritated and hasty, and entered the house with only food & sleep on his mind. Kasali, relieved to see the back of Somto, locked the gate and returned to the Indian porn VCD which small oga had rudely interrupted. Somto made his way to the kitchen, mentally noting the voices in the living room, and as he pulled out a pot, plate and 3 satchets of Indomie noodles, he realised the voices belonged to his father and Uncle Obi. Somto urged himself to pop into d living room to say hello but the need to feed himself and sleep wouldn't permit any detours tonight. 5 minutes later, with a bowl of steamy indomie in one hand and a glass of water in the other, he retired to his bedroom for what would be an almost acceptable end to another boring day. Meanwhile, the parked Police Car, which hadn't moved in three days started it's engine....</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-size: 14px; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">Obi could only pray it was safe. He'd handed over 2 suitcases and a large cannister to his brother for safe keeping but made sure he convinced him it was merely excess luggage which he could not take with him on his little vacation to London. Obi knew it was the only he he could guarantee it's safety and hopefully, if he hadn't been followed, it would stay safe in his brother's care until it was needed. "Heaven forbid it fall into their hands....." he thought, as he drove out through his brother's gate and sped off towards the airport. He loved his brother dearly but he knew secrecy was the only way to ensure the item's safety and ossibly the safety of mankind. His conscience tore at him like a invisible beast and deep down, a pestering voice reminded him that he had possibly put the his brother's entire household in danger. He glanced at the rearview mirror and spotted a police car, with tinted windows behind him. His gazed returned to the road ahead momentarily before quickly snapping back to the rear-view mirror again. "CHINEKE!" he screamed as the police car passed under a lit streetlight and he recognised the glinting insignia on its bonnet. He planted his foot firmly on the accelarator and the needle on the speedometer swung across the dial. Obi swung his steering hands to the right, hurling his 1997 Peugeot 504 into a right turn as it's tyres screeched on the road beneath. He looked up at the red light he'd just sped past and then behind to see the Police car speedily giving chase and just then, he felt a sudden crushing pain in the left side of his body just before his world went dark. The Tanker had come out of nowhere and smashed into the left side of the Peugeot hurling a grotesque mixture of metal, flesh and blood through it's passernger window. The Tanker screeched to a halt and as onlookers gathered and gasped at Obi's bloody carcase in the driver's seat, The </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">Police Car pulled up behind the wreckage....</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"Eguje transmitting.......</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Target Obi: Terminated........</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Scanning for H.E.A.D...................N/A. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; " >H.E.A.D not found. </span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; " ><b>Awaiting orders...."</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">None of the onlookers heard the car's transmission but and some started to wonder why a Police car was parked so idly at the scene of an accident. A few seconds later, it received a response</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>"Transmission received. </b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>If H.E.A.D is not with Dr. Obi then he must have left it at his last location.</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Return to the Okoro residence and retrieve it at all cost. </b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>End Transmission"</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">Egujecon screeched into a 180 degree turn and sped down the road back to the Okoro's. It weaved past other vehicles whose drivers honked their horns in complaint, and swerved away from screaming pedestrians who scuttled to pavements to avoid the speeding police ca</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-size: 14px; ">r.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b>"Orders confirmed. </b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b>Enroute: Okonkwo residence. H.E.A.D must be retrieved. </b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b>All Hail Euchariatron"</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-size: 14px; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">Back at the Okoro residence, Somto's had awoken with a thirst. He made is way down to the kitchen and noticed the odd looking cylindrical cannister on the dining table. Curiosty overtook thirst now and he grabbed the cannister, twisted the top off, turned it upside down and tap it's bottom until an odd looking spherical item fell onto the table. It was an odd looking thing with weird markings across the surface. Somto picked it up and stared at it confusingly for a few minutes before it suddenly started vibrating in his hands and glowing. Somto, confused and curious now, attempted to recognise the markings on the sphere and at that very moment, a yellow & black taxi crashed through the kitchen wall. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">It stopped in the middle of the room amidst a pile of rubble and Somto watched as the cab creaked and twisted until bonnet broke apart into chestplate, tires flipped into ankles and what was a cab a few seconds ago, had now become a Huge Robot crouched in the kitchen possibly to avoid destroying the ceiling.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b>"Somto Okoro?"</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">It asked.<span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; ">Somto, frozen with fright, stared back without reply.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; " ><b>"Are you Somto Okoro? Do you have H.E.A.D?"</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b>"ye-ye-yes...I'm Somto. What the hell.....wetin be dis? What the hell are you?!"</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">The Robot glanced at Somto's hand, spotted the sphere and immediately shifted back into it's previous yellow and black cab form. Somto could hear Kasali screaming in hausa outside the house but his mind was far more interested in the Robot-car transformation going on in the kitchen. The passenger door opened by itself and the car spoke more urgently this time...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b>"Your life is in danger Somto. You must come with me now. Get in now"</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b>"Come with you where?" Somto asked, clutching the sphere close to his chest. "Na so people go just enter moto wey dey change to Robot abi? What is going on?"</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">Before the cab could reply, a burning bright wave of light shot through the kitchen wall, past Somto and hit the wall behind him. A series of shots followed and Somto caught a glimspe of what looked like another Robot, with Police car parts and markings, running towards the house.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; " >"SOMTO! get in the car now!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; font-family: 'courier new'; ">"</span> <span class="Apple-style-span">commanded the cab.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">Somto dove into the gaping passernger's seat and as the door shut behind him, the cab reversed out of the kitchen, slammed into the shins of the oncoming Police car robot and sent it tumbling over them. The cab spun the other way and accelearated out of the Okoro residence as a watching Kasali wailed "AHHH! Gaskiya Oga go kill am por me tomorrow. Kai!". Somto stuck his head out of the window to see the other robot shift into a familiar looking Police Car and speed after them.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; ">"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" screamed Somto. "Abeg wetin be all dis one now? what are you?!"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "><b>"That was an Anunobicon Somto. I am Gidi-Bee and you need to hold onto that sphere tight and brace yourself. Eguje can be very persistent...."</b></span></span></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-64176425860426273532011-03-09T15:55:00.001-08:002011-03-09T16:38:19.214-08:00The Crazy, The Broke & the downright Worwor<div>as usual... spell checking is for weaklings...</div><div><br /></div>You know what baffles me? When people don't cut their cloth according to their cloth. I read something a young lady wrote and it went something like this: "I want an independent, handsome, tall, rich man to come and sweep me off my feet. I'm not easy to please so he has his work cut out for him", Naturally I became curious and I decided to check out the author of the statement. You go fear now! I checked the babe out and shock seize me! My people I say shock seize me for throat! I don't want to offend anyone but if the next few sentence rub you the wrong way then na ur fault cos nobody force u 2 read blog. If the babe snags a rich, tall, independent, handsome man then the universe is doing partiality for Jennifer Aniston.<div><br /></div><div>Sometimes you'll hear a woman say "I don't want a man who's too possessive and won't give me space to just be myself, have friends and be independent". Yet the same seemingly normal babes will turn out to be crazyass chicks who do autopsies on laptops and Blackberries just to find that which Facebook profiles you've had the audacity to look up. Have you ever seen a crazy chick in action b4? SHET! It's not a pretty sight. You know what's worse than crazyass chicks? Worwor chicks! Now Thats definitely not a pretty sight. You know what's worse than a Worwor chick? A Worwor chick who calls other people ugly. That, my people, is a new version of insanity where a person is afflicted with the killer 3hit combo of Worwor, self-deceit & the audacity to still open mouth and yarn nonsense. Situations and people like this should be a warning to all mankind that the end is definitely nigh and even if it is, their continued existence is only hastening Armageddons plans</div><div><br /></div><div>Baffling it is, wen u hear a brokeass woman say she wants a rich man who can afford to buy them all the things they desire. Brokeass chick oh! The kind that has to hustle cab fair to go and visit the potential buyer of all the things she desires. The kind that walks around with an empty purse like a subliminal message to other prospective mugus to come, explore, spend & jonz. I'm talking about the big bad babes who'd rather leech off other people than organise what's left of their self-respect and make something of themselves. In the Hierarchy of Respect, we have The Independent Womam at the top and somewhere in the middle is the Humble Lady who's content with what she has. Then, at the bottom, after Crazyass hypocritical chicks and judgmental Worworass chicks, you'll find Brokeass chicks. Brokeass chicks who don't respect themselves embody the essence of humanities basic problem.......craze!</div><div><br /></div><div>.......*wipes sweat* Now think happy thoghts </div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-65708283007657109612011-03-09T08:56:00.001-08:002011-03-15T05:51:04.678-07:00Hoe: A non-agricultural approach<div style="text-align: justify;">The following post may rub some of you the wrong way. As usual, spell-checking is for weaklings...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You may have come across the term "Hoe" at some point in your life. You may have heard it in a conversation, used it yourself to "compliment" someone or maybe even had the "honour" of being addressed as one before. Whichever way, it's undeniable that "Hoe" is a part of everyday life. Today, I simply wish to enlighten those who may be mystified by The Hoe. If you already grasp the concept of then this will simply supplement your knowledge. Either way, learning never stops. Today, we learn about The Hoe. Let's Begin</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Concept</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The origin of the Hoe, like the reason behind Kim Kardashian's fame, is shrouded in mystery. Some say it dates back as far as early 17th century while others say it may even be as old as Sean Connery himself (which is pretty dam old by the way. We may not be able to trace the origin of The Hoe but we can confidently say that like its track record with men/women, it's been around. What or Who is a Hoe then? "A Hoe is a gardening tool used for digging the earth". If you wanna get technical then you can also say "A Hoe is a man or woman who's been with more guys/girls than WAEC". A Hoe is a Slut. An Ashewo. A man-hoe. A pers0n who's decided that come rain or shine, everytime is shagging time (Choc City sign me up!). A hoe will hop on a penis or VJJ faster than you can say 'Osondi Owendi' backwards and if you are wondering if a hoe has self-respect or self-control, the answer is no! These things are foreign to a hoe; for Shame, a hoe has not. The concept of "The Hoe" basically revolves around the nuts of a man or the orifice of a woman. Now that we've elaborated on the concept of The Hoe. Let's move on....</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Terms of Use</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">"Hoe" is usually used to describe a woman who's attained a well above average record in humping anything with 2 & a half legs or sliding into anything regularly willing enough to have bending over as a hobby. It should only be used to identify a woman who deserves the accolade simply because she's turned the space between her legs into a tool free parking zone. For a man to be a Hoe, he must have turned his penis into a VJJ tollgate (Figuratively ofcourse). So, Is "Hoe" an insult? Well that depends on the mentality of the man or woman. Some people strive towards Hoedom and if such a person is called a hoe, it's mission accomplished. Nowadays, Hoe is being used as a salutation, a compliment even. It's common to see girls addressing each other as hoes without ill intent or desire to insult. It's rare to see guys use it on each other outside the usual banter and joke-filled scenarios but it's still considered a misuse of the term. Like drugs, black magic & Soulja Boy, Hoe is a bad thing. It's not a compliment, nor is it praise. Give honour to whom honour is due and Hoedom to who Hoedom deserves. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Evolution & Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Evolution of a Hoe is a concept not many researchers have bothered to investigate. It simply focuses on what a Hoe was, is, and will be. The evolution of a Hoe can be determined simply from the woma's track record. For example, that primary school classmate of yours who loved doing "Show me yours and I'll show you mine" during Break time, will probably be the same girl in Secondary school who discovers how many different ways a candle can "light up" her world. She'll probably also be the same one in Uni who's VJJ has more attendants than the library the day before vacation. A habit turns into a character and a character builds a lifestlye. In the end, Hoedom becomes a lifestyle and like Homoerectus became Homosapien, Hoe-trainee becomes Hoe-Director. Same thing for guys, a pervert can be a man-hoe but a man-hoe is not always a pervert. Man-hoes will usually try to conceal their dealings in order not to scare away propestive prey with a bad reputation. However, like fart in crowded elevator, a man-hoe's bad reputation will still spread. The Hoe has not evolved much over the years though, what has evolved are the instruments of Hoedom, a subject which will be discussed in a later post. In conclusion, Hoedom shares a symbiotic relationship with mankind and for as long as we have dick or VJJ (and some have both), Hoes will always exist to offer patronage. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-83872342054092892072010-06-25T17:34:00.001-07:002010-06-28T08:18:23.065-07:00Technology is evil<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxpsNcqtClwfDC5FrPmz9OgmofGE4IC7k_KGfsDBfl2gNTZ7i_hMpSVEp8RvRNr1-v_HQa14R5eAPxetVlWyI7got6gFCdZAGlAb7VYtMqNrT2XA9UpsTvN5O5wxD5cyLuo1F6Zm9LtE/s1600/ie-devil_03.png"></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>(NB: This is a satirical post)</b> Ladies and Gentlemen, I am posting today to bring an argument before you. I am here with one intention and it is to convince you that Technology is evil! It is the the spawn of malevolent minds and intentions. It is the bringer of sorrow and despair. It is the epitome of torment and torture. I won't be making such bold claims if I lacked the evidence to back them up so let me elaborate on why I think the world would have been better off without technology. I will focus on three minions of technology in my argument and they are: Television, Mobile Phones and The Internet. Let us begin</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Television:</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw2Wocq8b2QnySDFHZgrr_MAE5tTwpx6gwgmIb-YT1QYAXGSIg30giEp1ygQeBj-DY56lnVE3c80-BaOdyWzWreBFPtM1FoKqRQBUnscfTizx-ch02DF444tIBifBFzWXtYiBX0ZFohlo/s1600/edna.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw2Wocq8b2QnySDFHZgrr_MAE5tTwpx6gwgmIb-YT1QYAXGSIg30giEp1ygQeBj-DY56lnVE3c80-BaOdyWzWreBFPtM1FoKqRQBUnscfTizx-ch02DF444tIBifBFzWXtYiBX0ZFohlo/s320/edna.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487805251862945986" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 169px; " /></a></span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is the oldest minion of technology among the three I just listed. It is the four-edged bringer of violence and immorality. Television has evolved from the black and white pictures which dazzled our fore-fathers to the HD ready televisions of today which are ever-ready to bring scenes of gore and kpanching to our very eyes in stunning high definition pictures. Some of you might be saying, "But Scribbles, wetin you dey yan sef? Television is a source of information and not all shows are violent and explicit" and your argument would be completely valid. However, television is not just a bearer of violence and immorality. It is also one of the major sources of depression anxiety, tension and heartache. For Example, where did we all see Sani Kaita show off his kung fu/match-selling skills? At the World Cup via the television. Where did we see Greece beat Nigeria 2-1 and consequently give Zeus and Hercules the right to call Amadioha and Sango their b#tches? On the television. Where did we first see Yakumumu Ayegbeni miss an open net from 3yrds? on the frigging television. I am sorry but despite bringing us Godly channels like TBN, informative channels like CNN and educational yet painfully boring channels like The History Channel, I think Television is a device concocted by diabolical minds to serve us an information-entertainment soft drink but then spike it with sorrow and torment with little ice cubes of kpannching and kpoxing. I am watching a television now and guess what's on? The England manager giving a press conference on England's exit from the World Cup and his future career as their manager. Isn't that just depressing? The man just got kicked out of the competition by a team who almost, if not actually, molested them on the field and you are making him give a press conference instead of getting him to a psychiatrist to make sure the whole ordeal didn't tamper with him mentally? That's just unfair and uncalled for but such is the habit of television. It never fails to milk embarrassment and humiliation out of it's victims and if you think that's a lie why don't you ask Tiger Woods or Umar Mutallab what it feels like to be breaking news.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Mobile Phones:</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0hwcPiRn0Yd16dhfLJfKlwHPuB2QWXO9DWUC9ywGOhTgzpjaNMaUP7mGTBet-Px7Sjzqaxy1EPnSyQK_eJPWRioG65QmxWBaXpbyP4rbf4qr10KTtQGxnVPvP7IIe1zhJ9DA9h-0Uxc/s200/060208_mb_Cell_phone_Tn.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487811205350535426" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 200px; " /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; ">Take a look at the picture on the left. Take a good hard look at it. That my friends is the face of evil. There is a saying in the Scribble household: "Man wey carry mobile phone no know sey e dey give devil piggyback ride". Despite the questionable source of this saying, it cannot be ignored or denied that mobile phones are indeed the devils minions. Every feature of the average mobile phone has be designed diabolically to carry a facade of innovation but entrails of pure menace. Nowadays people can have sex via text which just undermines the whole point of kpanching which is 2 (or more) pple getting down and getting jiggy which each other while there's physical contact between them. The iPhone and BlackBerry are evil devices which don't need any more description than a prostitute with a tattoo on her forehead saying "I bang for bucks". Everything from BlackBerry messenger to the gazillion apps the iPhone offers points only in one direction, a total abandonment of self-reliance and a complete dependency on the mobile phone. Have you seen Lady Gaga and Beyonce's "Video phone" music video? You have? do I need to say anything more in this paragraph? I don't think so.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The Internet:</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxpsNcqtClwfDC5FrPmz9OgmofGE4IC7k_KGfsDBfl2gNTZ7i_hMpSVEp8RvRNr1-v_HQa14R5eAPxetVlWyI7got6gFCdZAGlAb7VYtMqNrT2XA9UpsTvN5O5wxD5cyLuo1F6Zm9LtE/s200/ie-devil_03.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487813698065748274" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 200px; " /></span><div style="text-align: justify;">Oh my goodness! I had to clutch my bible in one hand and put rosary beads between my teeth before typing the name "Internet". Forget sey I dey use internet type this post, it is unfortunately a necessary evil. The Internet is the No1 source of evil and I can bet you that down there, in the bowels of hell, the devil has the best broadband and BIS the underworld has to offer. How else can he deploy his minions into Facebook? The same minions who send odd, annoying messages to people declaring their undying love and proposals of marriage. Where do you think all the wahala people on Twitter originate from? it is from the bowels of the devil's BIS. The internet may be a resource filled with immeasurable knowledge but it is also the home of such evils as Hi5 and MySpace. If you are still on Hi5 and MySpace I can give you the number of a very renowned exorcist who will force that ungodly spirit out of you and make you join Twitter. I am not saying Hi5 and MySpace are for devilish people, I'm just saying that it is like the Old testament and Twitter is the New Testament. Do you realize I haven't even talked about Pornography? I am have basically reached the end of this paragraph and I haven't even touched pornography or yahoo-yahoo sef. Somewhere in the world right now there is a little boy who is trying to do his English Language homework. The teacher asked the class to find the meaning of certain words and the innocent soul just googled the word "Analyse". He expected google to take his innocent search request and bring back the definition for his homework. Instead, what google brought back will shock the little boy and the picture he is now staring at will leave an imprint in the back of his mind like the imprint the kondo will leave while "Analysing". </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My argument may be one-sided but it is expected since I am trying to drive home the fact that Technology is evil! Television, Mobile phones and the Internet are the bringers of despair and corruption and the sooner you toss your TV out the window, dunk your mobile phone in the toilet and toss you laptop into a river, the closer the world will be to sancticty. It starts with just one person. Someone has read this post, infact you have read this post and said to yourself "But Scribbles is right, technology is actually evil". To you, the one who has realised the truth in my words, I say GO FORTH AND RID THE WORLD OF TECHNOLOGY! Don't be afraid to stop someone on the street, grab their mobile phone and toss it into the nearest lake. Don't tremble when you send the £900 HD TV ur popsy just bought flying out the window. Do not fear for I am with you in sprit and I am only going to be with you in spirit cos if you actually do any of the things I just said you will be physically get the shit kicked out of you. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-35281411805961240702010-06-13T14:27:00.000-07:002010-06-13T15:50:35.243-07:00The Pastor, Scribbles & The Prophecy: Conclusion<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">So, Pastor "Seer" said he'd had a vision and in the future I'd be gay. My reply was "o_O". In my head I was saying "Shey dis man dey mad? Me? Robert, Gay? How? From where?" He kept on repeating how accurate his visions have always been and he knew I'd be shocked but if I was willing to work closely with him he could help me prevent the vision from coming to pass. Sounds like the plot of a time travel movie right? I told him that there's no way I'd be gay in the future and since he's a seer he should be able to see my past and see that all my "relations" have always been with the opposite sex and in no way homosexual. I left his office confused and frightened to be honest. You might be asking yourself "how can you be frightened if u are a solid straight guy? If u don't have the tendencies you won't be scared". Remember, this Pastor has had quite a few fulfilled visions and he ran a church with members who'd testified of the authenticity of his gift. I was scared I swear, what he told me started messing with my head, I started asking myself "how is this even possible? Maybe it's true. No it can't be! U like women remember?" After a few days I started piecing together a few things that made me doubt the validity of his visions: </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">Firstly, we'd never seen his wife. He was a pastor who always talked about his wife but we'd never seen her. Most members had only heard about her and even Richard agreed that the wife of a man of God should at least be known by the congregation. Apparently, she lived in Nigeria and came into London once in a while to be with her husband. It was all a bit too dodgy. </span></li></ul><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; ">Secondly, he told me not to tell anybody about the vision. Correct me if I'm wromg but aren't u supposed to share something of this magnitude with family at least? He told me not to tell anyone and it should be between the two of us.</span></li></ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; "> I think these 2 things were what kept me from losing my mind. On one hand I had the vision with it's "geniune" source and on the other hand I had all these questions that just made me doubt everything about the man. I didn't tell anyone about the vision except my sister and she blantantly refuted it. She said she'd had her doubts about the man's gifts but didn't want to say anything about it. We kept on going to the church and after every service I'd dodge the Pastor and head home. Sometimes he'd call and ask me to come into his office for counseling and I'd find some excuse to cancel. I didn't care if he could "see" through my excuses with his gift because as far as I was concerned, something was just not right.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">One saturday afternoon I went to see one of my uncle's, I spent the whole day at his place and when I decided to leave I told him I had to go because I wanted to go to bed early for church the next day. He asked what the name of my church was, I told him. He asked where is was, I told him. He told me the Pastor's name and asked if he was correct, I said he was. He asked me to go to church the next day and ask what the Pastor's wife's name was and when I find out I should come back and tell him. The next day I found out her name but forget to relay the information to my uncle. The following week my mum came to visit us from nigeria and during the weekend I followed her to visit my uncle. After they'd discussed a few family matters he asked me if I'd found out the Pastor's wife's name and when I told him he shook his head and started laughing.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">According to my uncle, when he first came into london he had lived with the Pastor and his wife for a couple of years and been there when the man had started the church. A few months after the church started my uncle said the pastor's wife confronted the Pastor one evening with tears in her eyes and a box filled with gay porn in her hands. When my uncle said "gay porn" my jaw dropped and my mumsy, being the igbo woman that she is, screamed "TUFIAKWA!" and grabbed her chest. My uncle said that after his wife found the box of gay porn her and the pastor had a huge argument and he ended up sending her back to Nigeria. That explained why we never saw her in church and many people hadn't met her. My uncle said he'd live with them for a few more months after the incident before moving out and during the last few months he spent there he'd seen young boys come and go from the house but never asked any questions because he didn't want to cause any trouble. He said that what the pastor does is use some sort of Metaphysics to seemingly read people and tell them things about themselves that are sometimes true and most times false. Then he gets young boys, gives them money and busy them things in exchange for only God knows what. When he said "only God knows what" my brain interpreted it to "Romping shop inna d boys booty". </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I never went to that church again, I actually told Richard about what my uncle had said but Richard chose to keep attending the church because, in his words, "It's not about the Pastor but what's in your heart". That one is his business though, I ran from that church like a Usain Bolt chasing a gold medal. No wonder the man had said I was going to be gay in the future, he was trying to prepare me for some romping lol. Anyways, I haven't seen or heard anything about the Seer Pastor since then. Richard still goes to the church and sometimes he tries to get me to come back. A suggestion that always gets the reply "Be like sey u dey mad!!!"</span></span></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-81146727678209154342010-06-13T10:48:00.000-07:002010-06-13T11:08:19.092-07:00The Pastor, Scribbles & The Prophecy<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:13px;">This is a post I've wanted to do for a very very long time but didn't think it was appropriate until now. It's about A Pastor and his "prophecy" about Sir Scribbles. Interested yet? I'm sure you already are:</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This began sometime in march 2009. I and my Sister had been convinced by a family friend to join this church he'd been going to for about a year. We'd been searching for a suitable church for about 6months and this family friend, Richard, suggested we come to his, check it out and if we didn't like it we could just not come back the following sunday. We went to the church on one particular sunday and realised the only detail Richard left out when telling us about his church was The Pastor was a "Seer". </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Basically, the man can tap into the spiritual realm and see things in your past, present & future. Imagine how shocked I was when, at the service, he asked newcomers to come to the front and after I came forward he touch my forehead and said "You are about to start a new phase in your life and you aren't sure if it's the right path for you". At the time I was just getting into my Masters programme and had a few doubts about what I was doing and where it'd lead me. After he said those words to me I immediately assumed he was a genuine pastor with a genuine gift from God. Me and my sister became regulars in the church, I joined the Car Park unit and helped out in the parking lot and my sister joined the Sanctuary unit which helped clean the church before and after service. We even brought my mum to the church and as skeptical as she is about unknown pastors and churches, she agreed that the Man, his gifts and his ministry were genuine. The Pastor started taking a liking to me and Richard. He'd tell us to come to his office on weekdays for counselling and prayers, he'd ask us if we needed anything and if we were alright financially and otherwise. If even talked to Richard about girls, sex and abstinence. I on the other hand liked to keep private stuff private and anytime he brought up the subject of women I'd just crack a joke and change the subject. I think my elusiveness of subject of a more "personal" nature made his interest in me and my life grow and soon enough Richard was no longer the focus of his "spiritual eye" because he'd set them on me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now I have to add that I was a tad bit tense anytime I was around this Pastor. He was a man with d gift of insight and as far as I knew, he was probably reading my thoughts and viewing my whole life as a movie playing in his head. I never lied to him because I thought he'd just see right through me and instead of lying I just dodged questions. When he asked me if I was a virgin I'd crack a joke. When he asked if I had a girlfriend I'd crack a joke. Everytime he tried squeezing info out of me I'd wiggle my way out and I think he got frustrated and decided it was time to take drastic measures to get to me. He appraoched me after service one sunday and told me he'd like to speak with me in private during the week. I told him I had school during the week and I'd only be free on Tuesday so we made an appointement for Tuesday evening and between Sunday and tuesday afternoon I kept asking myself "What in the world does this man want? Has he seen my death in the future? Abi he's seen me past indiscreations". Tuesday evening finally came and I went to see him and boy did this man shock me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After a bit of small talk and irrelavant chatter he decided to get to the point. He looked me straight in the eye and said "Robert, I don't know how to tell you this but I have seen a vision and in the future you will be gay"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">....To Be Continued</span></b></div></span>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-56914961622526625632010-05-21T01:50:00.000-07:002010-05-23T10:35:28.832-07:00It's Summer people!!!!!Mehn! I haven't been here in ages!! It's not my fault though, blame it on a lack of internet connection. Remember I told you guys I was moving into a new place? well I ordered broadband for the new place and the company delivered it a month after I moved in. No vex, I didn't mean to abandon you. Forgiven? I hope so. Ok I am around now so you can now proceed to tear ya cloth and chop battery lol. A lot has happened since the last time I blogged and I don't even know if I should give you guys the whole gist now or just suspend this post, write a novel and make a movie about it all tomorrow. Trust me now, in 24hrs I will write a book and make a movie cos when I put my mind to something I accomplish it lol. Ok enough jibber jabber, I came here for a reason *scratches head*...I seem to have forgotten what that reason is actually...okay read this while I try to jog my memory.<div><br /></div><div>IT'S SUMMER!!! Summer is here pple and you know what that means don't you? it's the only time pple can leave their houses half-naked without me chasing after them with a straightjacket. It's the only time ladies can wear tops that start at their shoulders and end at their nipples and the only people that'll raise an eyebrow are guys who wish they could just tear the whole thing off...or girls (it's 2010 & nothing is impossible). Then again, if you have boobs that look like a linen shirt after a rugby match and your shoulders look like they need shoulders of their own to support them then the raised eyebrows will be saying "Put sum clothes on Grandma! You are 92 not 29!" You know what's even more disturbing about summer? You get to see large bellied, flabby throated, hairy bare chested men walking around unconsciously begging you to scream "Put some frigging clothes on before you scorch my eyeballs!". Do you think I'm mean? I hope not because they are the mean one's! The people who make peacefully sitting on the bus impossible, the people who sit across from you on the train and because you don't want to stare and seem rude you have to either pretend to be checking imaginary missed calls on your phone or stare at sumthing, which has no attributes whatsoever that require a stare, through a window. This is a complaint ladies and gentlemen! This is me using this post as a medium to reach out to all of mankind with one simple request: If you see anyone who even remotely matches the people I've just described I want you to walk into the closest store, buy some clothes and hand it to them saying "Take this, it's my contribution to maintaining the sanity of humanity". Make sure you say it with as much dramatic effect as possible, say it like you are Optimus Prime or even better...say it like you are me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I now remember why I came here in the first place, asides from cleaning the blog and paying my blog-rent, I came to wish you all a Happy Summer! This is the season when parents, who God has given the means, send their kids abroad on holiday. This is the season when schools give students the longest break and also the season responsible for some students flunking the following semester cos, in summary, they cudn't get themselves out of the enjoyment mode they were in during summer! Summer is a beautiful time to meet new people, make new friends & visit new places but with the kind of heat wey dey flog us here in Jand I'd rather sit half-naked in my living room and chew ice cubes. Have yourselves a lovely summer people and if you are in Jand and you see one tall Ibo boy chasing a half-naked granny with a straightjacket at least stop and say Hi...I don't bite. </div><div><br /></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-59051418981046675472010-03-23T07:26:00.000-07:002010-03-23T08:55:15.323-07:00Friends, Sex & tings<div style="text-align: justify;">It's the age old question peeps, Can a guy and a girl be friends without any sexual tension between them? Can a girl have a guy as a "BFF", as some would like to call it, without any underlying sexual intent? I think it's possible but rare. I think it's actually possible for a guy and girl to be really close friends without thinking about shagging each other. So why do I say it's rare then? Simple, cos Sex is everywhere? It's on TV, it's in games, newspapers and billboards. Sex is everywhere these days and you'd have to be either blind or one hell of a prude not to even have a glancing thought about it. I think it's harder for boys and girls to have that ultimate agape friendship these days because the only way you can escape all the subtle sexually suggestive devices in this world is to lock yourself in a cage buried 10ft in the ground. In my opinion, there are some factors that a totally sexless friendship are based one. It's either:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You've been friends since you were kids and you see each other like family. The mere thought of shagging each other feels like incest and makes you want to barf your entrails and hang yourself with a noose made from your own intestines</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">or</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You look smoking hot and the other friend in question looks like calligraphy done by a drunk chicken. You love this friend to pieces but you can't imagine having anything sexual to do with them cos you've imagined what their face would look like if it was at the height of sexual pleasure and your imagination started to cry cos of what you saw.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">or</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You've known this friend for ages and you've seen him or her slip in and out of relationships like a loose condom on a wingwong. You have given this friend so much advice, comfort and criticism concerning boys/girls that you can't even imagine sleeping with them either because it would just make the whole friendship weird/hypocritical or because you think they've got some deadly STD.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">These are just some of reasons I think a boy and girl can remain close friends, BFFs if you will, without any sexual tension between them. If you look at it from another angle, the reasons I gave can also pass for reasons why any one of the parties is always thinking about boning their close friend. You've been friends since childhood? I know a girl who almost got raped by her best friend. One of you is ugly as hell? All the more reason for the ugly one to consider rape. Been with too many people and you're not sure if it's a good idea? Yeah rite, cos rational thinking beats sex everything right? The truth is friendship is a risky business and underlying sexual tension is just one of the risks that come with the job. If you have a close friendship with someone that is completely devoid of sexual tension then brilliant. However, sexual tension between friends is not a bad thing and it only shows you both are human. How you handle that tension is what really matters. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ps: I'm down with the flu and as usual it's reduced me to a misreable snivelling bag of phlegm. </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2iILS1FHZhNk1gdNosEzu5a9oFo5owwmHXyiraBhQ6xyZDjjGDeabj2KBlaNutYJA26IkOTBkQjRIiLwhkC-CEtYq051rYrYe6e02IyVFlWMcnL37R6xsmUlIegv5QAdmh1jCOF6LOqQ/s1600-h/630652_f248.jpg"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2iILS1FHZhNk1gdNosEzu5a9oFo5owwmHXyiraBhQ6xyZDjjGDeabj2KBlaNutYJA26IkOTBkQjRIiLwhkC-CEtYq051rYrYe6e02IyVFlWMcnL37R6xsmUlIegv5QAdmh1jCOF6LOqQ/s1600-h/630652_f248.jpg"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2iILS1FHZhNk1gdNosEzu5a9oFo5owwmHXyiraBhQ6xyZDjjGDeabj2KBlaNutYJA26IkOTBkQjRIiLwhkC-CEtYq051rYrYe6e02IyVFlWMcnL37R6xsmUlIegv5QAdmh1jCOF6LOqQ/s1600-h/630652_f248.jpg"></a>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-6284545741854841012010-03-17T04:26:00.000-07:002010-03-19T14:35:34.400-07:00Your hair has a name?!<div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Wonders will never cease! I've heard a lot of interesting and shocking things in this life but the info. I stumbled upon a few nights ago was numbing simply cos it's something that's been all around me and I never noticed. This is the convo that initiated everything and it's between two members of my Twitfam on Twitter:</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(5, 5, 5); line-height: 16px; font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(5, 5, 5); line-height: 16px; font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(15, 14, 14); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(5, 5, 5); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">@</span></span><a class="tweet-url username" href="http://twitter.com/tammywarmate" rel="nofollow" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; color: rgb(212, 30, 45); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">tammywarmate</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">to </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">@</span></span><a class="tweet-url username" href="http://twitter.com/MsItoro" rel="nofollow" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">MsItoro</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> "omg i love ur hair! what is the name of ur weave??"</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(5, 5, 5); line-height: 16px; font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I was dumbstruck and thought it was a typo to be honest so I decided to clarify:</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(5, 5, 5); line-height: 16px; font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;color:#050505;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">@</span></span><a class="tweet-url username" href="http://twitter.com/Sir_Scribbles" rel="nofollow" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Sir_Scribbles</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">to @</span></span><a class="tweet-url username" href="http://twitter.com/tammywarmate" rel="nofollow" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; color: rgb(212, 30, 45); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">tammywarmate</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> & @</span></span><a class="tweet-url username" href="http://twitter.com/MsItoro" rel="nofollow" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">MsItoro</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">"...they have names?"</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">The replies I got afterwards shocked me. Apparently women have names for their weaves?!! How is that even possible? I was numb I swear! I thought it was some sort of joke and was expecting someone to go "Psych! It's all Jokes Scribbles!". I decided to dig deeper into this weave naming conspiracy and I was hit with another bombshell. The weaves have codes...FRIGGIN CODES!!!!! I was told the codes were used to tell different colours apart and using my valuable sources and impressive analytical skills I gathered some of the names . Here they are with traditional Scribble-terpretations:</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Wet & Wavy:</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> I've seen women go mental when water touches their weave and I'm assuming the Wet & Wavy weave is water resistant or something. On the other hand, this just sounds like a sex position involving a water bed. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Beverly Johnson:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Who is Beverly Johnson and why is a weave named after her? Have you heard of her before? Cos I haven't. Is it her hair that's being chopped off and glued/stitched together to make the weave? Someone please enlighten me! Tell me why this seemingly non-existent person has a weave named after her and Optimus Prime hasn't got a weave named after him?! If Beverly's got a weave then Optimus should as well.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">American express:</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> There's even a weave named after a credit card? Now I understand why the weaves have PIN codes. I can imagine a chick at a store paying for a pair of shoes by feeding her Black & Ox Blood mix weave into the card machine and entering 0350 as her PIN.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Ultra plus:</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> This one sounds like a power-up move in Street fighter. Some female character in the game charges up, screams "Ultra plus!!!" and unleashes a special move where her weave starts hitting you with dandruff the size of golfballs. Instant KO! </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Unique weave:</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> I'm guessing the manufacturers realised the numerous "exciting" names that already existed and thought they'd keep it short and simple. Either that or they were just too friggin lazy to think for an outlandish name for their weave</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Russian Virgin Remy hair:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I understand why Remy decided to share his/her hair with the rest of the world, it's because he/she is a communist. He/she probably believes in the communist ideology and now practices it by allowing his/her hair to be distributed globally. Remy, communism is so 1917, quit with the follicle distribution and go get laid!</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Darling Yaky:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">From what I heard this is a very razz weave and the "posh" ones among the female folk don't think it's any good. Why the hell is it called darling then? If you don't think it's a good or pretty weave then darling isn't the most appropriate term for addressing the weave now is it?. I suggest "Dreadful Yaky" "Gruesome Yaky" "Horrible Yaky" & "Ojuju Yaky". </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">There's no way I could have put up all the names I discovered and even as I was typing this more aspects of this hair naming conspiracy were being revealed to me. In addition to the hair names and colour codes there are also length codes?! My people I am weak! I say I don weak. I don't know whether to feel ignorant for not knowing or thankful that I don't have to memorise names, colour codes and length codes. Ladies, respect! Una dey try I swear! </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;color:#050505;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', sans-serif;color:#050505;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></div></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-63965029585796087812010-03-15T02:21:00.000-07:002010-03-15T03:04:58.487-07:00Old loves & Hate...Seeing as I'm going back to my old loves I've decided to blog as often as an idea hits me. I was doing a little introspection a while back and realised I was tired of the Spoof Ads and the Celebrity blog brawls campaign. I can't explain it really but I feel it's time to rummage deeper into myself and blog about things that mean more to my readers than just a few laughs. The things is, no matter what I talk about there'll always be an element of humour in it because that is how I'm built. I'm not saying the old Sir Scribbles is obsolete and I'm not saying there's a new one either. See it as a remodelling process where I, Sir Scribbles, add and remove things that I consider necessities and excess respectively. <div><br /></div><div>First order of business, I've changed my blog theme...again. Within the last 24hrs I've changed it about 10 times trying to find a new theme that fits the blog and me. I know some of you preferred the theme that had that kid with the headphones at the top but I needed to change the theme because it felt like I'd been wearing the same clothes for ages. I thought I'd found the perfect theme last night but I didn't like some of the feedback I got so I've chosen this one and it's probably the last one I'll try out so if you no like am you're going to have to deal with it because I no get energy to theme-hunt anymore. I say that with love though.</div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of love, is it alright to hate someone? I asked this question on Twitter and got some interesting responses. Some people thought it was okay to hate someone if the person did something heinous to you or your family while some thought hate only felt appropriate at that very moment when whatever had been done had the most effect. Someone also said that at that very moment when you feel hatred for someone it is not that person you hate but the situation. At the moment I am still trying to decipher that response. Finally, someone said hate was too strong a word and should be replaced with "Strong dislike" or "Loathe". What do you think? Is it okay to hate someone or is hate too strong to use on anyone? Cats hate dogs, Jews hated Hilter and Decepticons hate Autobots, are all of them wrong?</div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-75831022365125597632010-03-14T04:46:00.000-07:002010-03-14T16:02:26.419-07:00Back to old loves<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman';"><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 8px; margin-right: 12px; margin-bottom: 8px; margin-left: 12px; background-image: url(http://www.tumblr.com/images/input_bg.gif); background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.4; font-weight: normal; background-position: 50% 0%; background-repeat: repeat no-repeat; "><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Wagwan peeps?! I know it's been a while and I sincerely apologise for the inconsistent updates. I've had a lot of things to deal with lately and blogging seemed more like a burden to me. However, in light of recent events I've decided to go back to the things I love, the things that made me happy and the things that compensated for all the nastiness planet earth has to offer. I'm close to a rant at the moment so I'll change the topic before I bore you.<br /><br />I'm moving house Ladies and Gentlemen! I'm so excited and I keep daydreaming about how life in the new crib is going to be. Found a nice flat with my Sister in Essex and I couldn't believe how lucky we were to get such a nice flat in that area. Anyway, I just thought I'd let the blogfam know in case you want to pay a visit to Ol' Scribz. Please note that my cooking skills are abysmal so bring your own food and drinks sha! If you like pretend you didn't see the last sentence and come over empty handed, it's me and you that'll count the tiles on the kitchen floor until hunger kills you.<br /><br />I'm officially a believer in Karma. Well not Karma in the religious sense but in theory. I use to think that if you did enough good it'd outweigh a bad thing that haunted you but that's not the way life works I guess. I've realised the authenticity in "You reap what you sow" and I've defintely reaped exactly what I sowed. The thing is, if you get a consequence for every action then mistakes become something you fear to make. I thought life was about making mistakes and learning from then? Isn't it? So why then those a mistake have to have a consequence that somehow feels unfair and irrational? It's probably because a mistake without consequence eliminates the ability to learn and grow. If we didn't get punished for bad decisions and unjust actions then we'd have no reason to fear repercussions. It's funny how I'm asking myself, and you, questions I already know the answers to right? You reap what you sow Ladies and Gentlemen and life is not the least bit lenient with that rule.<br /></span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I really hope I can keep up with the updates now that I'm more organised and clear headed. Sometimes it's hard to believe that the people who smile and laugh all the time have issues of their own to deal with and sometimes constant outward joy sends a false message of perfection. I'm going back to my old loves people and I hope they take me back. </span></span></p></div></span></span></span>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-34860950974966383782010-02-25T04:54:00.000-08:002010-02-25T05:41:12.107-08:00On an Aristo and Yahoo-Yahoo ting!Before I begin I'd like to state for the record that this post is based on a lot of feasible assumptions. I will not give you examples or cite people or places directly but I'm sure you'll find my assumptions quite realistic and maybe even true if you are or know someone who's in a similar situation. <div><br /></div><div>On an Aristo, Aristos are basically people (usually girls) who 'get with' much older and financial buoyant people (usually men) and are repayed with material things. I think I got the defiinition about right. People have different and rather interesting views on Aristos, their circumstances and motives. I'm sure most Aristos will tell you that a hardship and unfavouring circumstances led them to lead such a life. The usual excuse, I assume, would be "I didn't have a choice". You know what's interesting about these excuses? Their the same one's Prostitutes and Stripper's use. For example: "I have a sick mother who needs to be taken care of", "I am trying to pay my way through school", "I was abused as a child and this is the only way I can deal with it". All these excuses support the grand motive that is "I didn't have a choice". However, we always have a choice in life. Choice is one of the perks that comes with free will and in my opinion the people who say they never had a choice are denying the idea of free will and, ultimately, the concept of being a human being. I understand maintaining values and morals can be hard when faced with hardship. Sometimes the hardest the decisions are the right ones and the consequence of doing the right thing seems to much to imagine or even accept. On the other hand, when you find yourself in those controversial grey areas that appear when everything that's black and white merge some questions must be asked, "Is it worth it?" "Is your soul worth more or less than material things". Aristos usually say they don't have a choice but it looks like they chose not to have a choice.</div><div><br /></div><div>On a Yahoo-Yahoo ting, Yahoo-Yahoo boys/girls are people who swindle others for profit usually taking advantage or greed, naivety and ignorance. I'm also assuming this definition is spot on. Now Yahoo-Yahoo peeps, like the Aristos, feel they have a valid argument as well. Like I said before most of the things I'll say are based on assumptions and I'm assuming Yahoo-Yahoo peeps blame their choice in profession on hardship and unfavourable circumstances. "I don't have a choice" is what you'll hear from this camp as well and for some reason their argument makes sense. However, just because it makes sense doesn't make it right. </div><div><br /></div><div>At this point I'm going to assume you have gotten the gist of this post? It's all about choice. In my opinion choice, sacrifice and reward are directly proportional. The tougher the choice, the greater the sacrifice which will lead to a greater reward. Maybe I can't really understand the circumstance surrounding people who say their only choice was to embrace the illicit and illegal but one thing I do understand is choice and free will. We all have it and every situation in life provides an avenue for you to exercise your free will and make a choice. Aristos and Yahoo-Yahoo peeps are not exempted. They claim they didn't have a choice but in reality choice is what led them to thelife they have now. </div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-51844538732082326812010-02-21T04:27:00.000-08:002010-02-21T12:15:34.194-08:00Sir Scribbles' Super Uber Mega Celebrity Blog Brawl #2<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The Celebrities are Brutal, the Commentary is unforgiven and the Rules are non-existent. Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen to another episode of violent nonsensical outlandish fun! Our gladiators tonight are well known, famous and talented in their own way so without further ado let's bring them out!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">ROLL CALL PEOPLE!!!!! He's Loud, he's rude and packs some heavy bass tunes! Ladies and Gentlemen...</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">LIL JON!!!! "YEAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! LET'S GET CRUNK!!!"</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">And his opponent. An artist who claims he has more enemies after him than an Israelite crossing the red sea. He's the Ekperi Papa One of Bayelsa.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">TIMAYA!!!!!!!!! "Na Baba God send me! You cannt stop me!"</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjg6aqpQ6jCW4-jhZZD4wxgGaB_dhmLhKIEQpMfxuwKhnjNZPlxfEuRlmFTrPkXaYvqgO-oiwPA3qEwFg0doJSnMf78kId6vDP910rDVmldAp_KrShJiwcJFhlCyfxVAaeBLvJZZN7iJA/s1600-h/Lil+Jon.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjg6aqpQ6jCW4-jhZZD4wxgGaB_dhmLhKIEQpMfxuwKhnjNZPlxfEuRlmFTrPkXaYvqgO-oiwPA3qEwFg0doJSnMf78kId6vDP910rDVmldAp_KrShJiwcJFhlCyfxVAaeBLvJZZN7iJA/s200/Lil+Jon.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440389935709724962" style="cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 200px; " /></span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b>VS</b></span></span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgglNWlPFot4Nakadi6myrh7aUpWS6JpGzfFYqzziXon2NQ1J3n6sqiBekS4GjJyi6UN3Autvy0HXAzU3XuU-ZeuWgV9OKv1Lh1W_73Fol6iNJH3mUBK68eCZPOjgrau4MCSlf2T_cTZ5w/s1600-h/timaya(2).jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgglNWlPFot4Nakadi6myrh7aUpWS6JpGzfFYqzziXon2NQ1J3n6sqiBekS4GjJyi6UN3Autvy0HXAzU3XuU-ZeuWgV9OKv1Lh1W_73Fol6iNJH3mUBK68eCZPOjgrau4MCSlf2T_cTZ5w/s200/timaya(2).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440301452305498482" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b>"Omo Nigga you cannot kill Timaya! Na Baba God send me do this work! If you block my way fire go burn you"</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Typical Timaya stuff, He opens with a classic threat. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">And they're off to a blistering start! Lil attacks first throwing a flurry of jabs at Timaya. The bayelsa man is caught totally by surprise but is quick enough to parry and duck. Lil jon isn't done yet, seems like he wants to end this quick. He steps back and palms Timya in d chest, Timaya doesn't budge. Lil jon palms him again. He doesn't budge. Timaya parries Lil Jon's third attempt, grabs his left arm while reaching into his pocket, pulls out a metal plantain and swings it into Lil Jon's throat. The attack stuns Lil jon and as he tries to wriggle free of Timaya's grasp the plantain boy proceeds to batter him. Lil Jon is taking a real beating now and it looks like Timaya is in total control of the battle. Lin jon drops to his knees as Timaya keeps landing hit after hit then suddenly Lil Jon produces a Pimp cup from nowhere and whacks Timata in the nuts. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><b>"YEAH!!!!"</b></span> He screams as Timaya releases his arm and recoils clutching is 'nutella' area in pain.<b>"</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><b>WHAT YOU GOING TO DO PLAYER?"</b></span> Timaya drops to d ground still clutching his crotch and tapping is foot on the floor. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">"YEAH PLAYER DIS IS HOW WE DO IT IN THE A'"</span></b>. Timaya seems to have recovered now and tries to get to his feet but what's this? Timaya reaches into his pants and pulls out a cutlass! Is there no end to d wonders of his pants? He swings the cutlass at Lil jon who jumps back to avoid the swipe. Timaya swings it again and this time Lil jon blocks the attack with his pimp cup. The clanging of cutlass and pimp cup is deafening and Timaya seems to be getting d upper hand. Lil jon blocks another attack, scurries back, takes a deep breath and let's out a devastating scream. The force of d scream pushes Timaya back, Lil jon inhales again and let's out an even more devastating scream which fractures the ground and pushes timaya back even further. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">"THIS IS IT PLAYA!!"</span></b> He screams, "<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">LET'S GET IT CRUUUUNK!!!</span></b>" immediately his pimp cup is filled with crunk juice, he gulps it down, snaps his fingers and spits a massive ball of fire on Timaya. Timaya is engulfed immediately, surely this is the end! Timaya's clothes are reduced to ashes as the violent flames scorch the Bayelsa man. "<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">I am timaya...</span></b>" He says "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><b>I dey hot like a fire...</b></span>" the d blazing flames disappear. "<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Na me be the Ekeri papa 1 of Bayelsa</span></b>" he says as he gets to his feet "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><b>WHAT?!!!</b></span>" Screams Lil jon "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><b>I dey blow like a bazooka!!!</b></span>" The pimp cup explodes in Lil jon's hand. The blast severs Lil Jon's arm and he screams in pain. "<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">Dem mama no fit stop me, dem papa no fit stop me, whether u like am or you no like am TIMAYA don blow!!!</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">"</span> The ground around Lil Jon explodes and he's knocked several feet into d air. "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><b>U no fit stop me. I be Timaya! I dey strike like a thunder!!!" </b></span>A bolt of lightning strikes Lil Jon in d air and seconds later a lifeless body falls to the ground. The blackened corpse is enough evidence Ladies and Gentlemen,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><b>TIMAYA</b></span> IS OUR WINNER!!!</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">What a cracking fight Ladies and Gentlemen! Join us next week as another pair of Celebrities battle it out in <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;">Sir Scribbles Super Uber Mega Celebrity Blog Brawl!!!!</span></b></span></span></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-52020038481425723482010-02-16T14:23:00.000-08:002010-02-16T15:26:32.124-08:00It hasn't been that long has it?SHET! E don tey oh! I haven't been here in a while. Just looked at my calendar and realised I hadn't been here in a long while. Shameful? yes! Disappointing? I know! Got an excuse? Yes I do and it's called school. Yes I am a student, again, and for those of you who's jaws just dropped to the floor you can like to pick them up cos your eyes rnt deceiving you. I'm back in geek mode and loving it mehn! Na so so book man pikin dey read sha! <ajebo>. Tbh the postgraduate diploma I just completed was a waste of my energy but I guess God has a reason for not divinly smacking bad ideas out of our heads when they first hit us lol. I stumbled upon a very interesting project for my Masters and hopefully it'll lead to a lot of open doors for me. Enough with all this serious talk. Make I gist you.<div><br /></div><div>Being a Nigerian these days his hard oh! We should get paid minimum wage at least for all the stress we have to put up with recently. Look left at Aso rock and spirits have kidnapped our President. Look right at international airports and we are suspected terrorists. Look Up in Jos and your head will be chopped off and when you look down your head has to stay there because everything else is shamelful. Forget all these "Flygerian" and "Proud to be Nigerian" propaganda for a bit. WAHALA DEY! Whether u accept it or not wahala dey! Even pple who aren't nigerians know there's wahala so why pple dey act like sey everything dey alright? Some pple say that I shouldn't complain if I don't have solutions. So if I dnt have a solution I shud shut my mouth shey? If you are walking on the street and you see dog poo wnt u say "phmnnn! See shit" before you think about packing it. (btw if you think about packing random dog poo on the street then ur own wahala is a different brand). All I'm saying is WAHALA DEY! I'm proud to be Nigerian and that's why I'm shouting WAHALA DEY! Moving on...</div><div><br /></div><div>If you aren't into football please skip this paragraph. Thanks. If you are reading this then you must have an interest in the beautiful sport. If you are not a Manchester United Fan this is you bus stop as well. Are all the haters gone now? good! MAN UTD Kwenu! Anyone catch the AC Milan v Man Utd game? Ronaldinho was behaving like a pant shey? Thot he cud harass our boys but we showed dem!!!! Rooney is really impressing me and our victories over Man City, Arsenal and now Milan have brought a wide and bright smile to my already awesome face lol. (No jealous me pls and if u dey jealous me u can like to hump a blender). I know some haters still read the paragraph up until this point and might even go as far as dropping a derogatory comment but for every hater comment against Man Utd Rooney will bang in a goal so please feel free to express yourself lol.</div><div><br /></div><div>Is it wrong to call people ugly? I've been debating this with a friend, hobblescotch, and we still can't come to an agreement. I think it's wrong to call people ugly but then again shudn't ugliness be treated the same as beauty. If you see a beautiful person you'll say "Hey, that's a beautiful person" so why shud it be wrong to also say "Wow, that's one ugly somborri"? Maybe it's because we aren't really supposed to say things about people that will hurt their feelings but in theory a beautiful person should get compliments and an "ugly" person shud get...consolation. I know it's a touchy issue and tbh I dnt think "Ugly" people shud be called out until they look for your trouble in an area related to appearance. See it this way, if I have a blackberry and you have a 3310 and you say d internet on my phone is slow I have the right to crack your skull with the crackberry. PEACE OUT!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-45821879381711019262010-01-23T03:54:00.000-08:002010-01-26T10:18:49.825-08:00Have you met?<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Did you like the last post? Well I know it didn't appeal to everyone but it was in my head and as usual whatever's in there gets thrown in here. Anyway hope y'all liked it?. Moving on, what do I talk about today? Women? School? Work? Ah Yes! I think I'll gist you about my intolerance for lactose. You want to hear about that? Ofcourse you do! No wait...chill...I think I'll gist you that some other time. I have suddenly decided that today you will meet Cynthia. Story, Story...</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;font-size:medium;">I was young, innocent and naive and had let myself fall into the typical boy-crush. Mehn I had a major crush on this girl sha no be small! It started the first day I saw her, I was a few months away from taking the entrance exam for Uni and had signed up for some extra-curricular lessons to get me warmed up for exam. The first day I walked into that class I spotted her, tall, slender and a killer smile to boot. The babe was fine! Fine like her face was made of glass and a smile was the reflection of sunlight. I weak! My people I say body weak me! You see I went to an all boys boarding school so you can imagine how the hormones wey messing wiv me after graduation. Anything in a skirt was a potential 'mate' and it's like I said earlier I was young and naive. Did I say Innocent as well? Scratch that one!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It took me about 2 weeks to talk to this babe seeing as every other Maga in the class was drooling over her. That day she sat beside me during a maths class and asked me to explain surds to her. NO DULLIN! Sharply I capitalized on the opportunity even though I couldn't get her to understand surds I sha collected her number...her number people her number!! Maybe I forgot to mention how much of a geek I was back then but that was the first time I'd ever gotten a girl's number and that's cos that was the first tie I'd ever asked for it. Why are you shocked? My fren close ur mouth and let me continue my story pls. Collecting her number was a personal milestone for me but that my friends was the beginning of my wahala. You see Cynthia was a "special" kind of girl. She was tall, pretty and in summary built like a model but she was also very very very clingy...add 5 more 'verys' to that sef. From that day onwards she'd sit with me in class, have lunch with me, sit with me in class again and then walk me home afterwards. To be honest I liked the attention but I wished I was the one doing the chasing. Men like to be chased but we don't like to be hunted and Cynthia was a one-woman manhunt. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The week for the entrance exam had finally arrived and we'd travelled by air a few days earlier just to settle in a bit before the exam day. As expected Cynthia sat beside me on the plane and just before take-off she grabbed my hand and said "I'm afraid of flying Robert. You don't mind holding my hand while we're airborne do you?" I said yes without thinking twice mehn hehehehe! If na you wetin u go talk? We all lodged in a motel and as you'd expect people were going wild. It was an alchohol and sex galore and even though I didn't drink or Kkpansh watching people get smashed as hell at night and hearing the resulting scandalous stories the next day was enough entertainment for me. Cynthia and I were quickly becoming an unoffcial item and one day we'd decided to have lunch together, she asked me to come meet her in her room at 3pm so we'd head out from there and at 3pm I was knocking on her day. Knocked once, knocked twice, door opened and there she was...naked!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-41791416344791535392010-01-21T07:16:00.000-08:002010-01-21T13:16:33.474-08:00Sir Scribbles' Super Uber Mega Celebrity Blog BrawlLadies and Gentlemen welcome to...<div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Sir Scribbles' </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;">"<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330000;">SUPER </span></b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330000;">UBER MEGA CELEBRITY BLOG BRAWL!</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330000;">" </span></div><div>The Celebrities are Brutal, the Commentary is unforgiven and the Rules are non-existent. This is our first episode so we're going to give you a quik run-through of what you're to expect. We're all about fun and violence and what's more fun than seeing wonderful celebrities tear each other apart in the most hilarious and unreal ways! Ok let's get right into the head-bashing bone-breaking feast on the menu. <div><br /></div><div>From the Okpokwu local government area we bring you a celebrity who's got more babies than Ladies and Gentlemen <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">2FACE</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">!!!!!</span> "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">One love my people! 2Baba don enter the place</span>"</div><div>And his opponent, from Young money records, a rising star who looks as hot as her lyrics and packs a booty that any Pirate would want to get his hands on. Put your hands together for <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">NICKI MINAJ!!!!! "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">Yo yo yo! It's the Harajuku Barbie bitches!!! number sign!! </span></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEila8cJ-dLa89CbRCEYmicd59gNt47CzgrrA7W6JGwS2vTecOmT2GCumCa3fHgEnVg5UZnmf_pg4kRWhVhR17zZ21AiAmwjjOnI0meD35D1YBTdBogsqIPWGv8IGlJYX5ozkpXq1j5a-HA/s1600-h/2face1.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEila8cJ-dLa89CbRCEYmicd59gNt47CzgrrA7W6JGwS2vTecOmT2GCumCa3fHgEnVg5UZnmf_pg4kRWhVhR17zZ21AiAmwjjOnI0meD35D1YBTdBogsqIPWGv8IGlJYX5ozkpXq1j5a-HA/s200/2face1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429222850062557826" style="cursor: pointer; width: 146px; height: 200px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">VS</span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrPIHeYunlF5dNa6vSoegxulhwI3SD9ZY2BwBAleL1MDt9O2tnVruUy-uPMJxJjmrW-qILkB7U1WlQO4GTE9qoQoaSTD8jg0P952wAtRSEn_DnOA79e32gtlXP5Hy6w0kpqRkiHIu-wU/s1600-h/minaj2.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrPIHeYunlF5dNa6vSoegxulhwI3SD9ZY2BwBAleL1MDt9O2tnVruUy-uPMJxJjmrW-qILkB7U1WlQO4GTE9qoQoaSTD8jg0P952wAtRSEn_DnOA79e32gtlXP5Hy6w0kpqRkiHIu-wU/s200/minaj2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429224045888591602" style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></a></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!!!!!!!!!!</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">2face is just sizing Nicki up now. Seems like his trying to pick the best strategy to approach the Buxom Vixen. To be honest her figure is quite intimidating, those thighs would make any man think twice. Nicki wants 2face to make the first move, she looks calm and collected and I'm sure 2face knows he can't attack without careful consideration. 2face feints a right jab, Nicki flinces, he feints a left jab, Nicki ducks and 2face sees and opening, he connects a vicious round-house kick to Nicki's jaw and the African/Trinidadian/Indo-Asian recoils with a moan. 2face dashes towards her before she has time to recover and throws a careless right hook, Nicki parries it and unleashes a 3-punch combo on his face leaving 2face wiv a busted lip and a large bump on his right cheek. 2face steps back but Nicki isn't done with him yet. As the nigerian steadies himslef Nicki reaches into her cleavage and pulls out a large CD pouch. She screams<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"> "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;">Harajuku technique Mixtape-shuriken"</span> and immediately the pouch opens up and all the CDs inside hurl themselves at 2face. He tries to dodge the salvo of CDs but he isn't fast enough and gets caught in the knee. The singer drops to the floor clucthing his bleeding knee and Nicki goes in for the kill. "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;">Oh you sleeping on me nigga? U think it's slumber time? Imma put you out of your misery. Harajuku technique Barbie-bitch-battalion!!!" </span>Her jeans rip at the sides and her thighs begin to pulsate. Suddenly her thighs burst open and little harajuku barbie creatures pour out of it in their hundreds. The battalion of barbies lunge at 2face heaping themselves on him while constantly chanting the words "Itty bitty piggy. Itty bitty piggy. Itty bitty piggy" As 2face is slowly swallowed in the heap of barbies he screams <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">NOTHING DEY HAPPEN!!</span>" and the barbie battalion's rhythmic chants cease. One by one they begin to writhe and moan and all of a sudden protrusions appear on their bellies. In a matter of seconds he managed to impregnate the whole Barbie-Bitch-battalion and as each barbie's belly enlarges Nicki screams in pain. Nicki is bleeding through her nose now and 2face slowly gets to his feet, pulls a replica of his MTV award from his pants and hobbles over to Nicki wiv one hand still clutching his bleeding knee. As he poises to deliver the final blow she pulls out a condom from her butt crack and hurls it at his face. As soon as the condom touches his face it catches fire and 2face lets out a deafening scream while trying to get it off, the fire envelopes his face and he drops to the flow squirming. As his head is slowly reduced to a small heap of ash his body stills and a few moments later the only sign that the body on the floor was ever living is a lump in its crotch area which seems to not be shrinking even though the body is lifeless. KO Ladies and Gentlemen! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><b>NICKI MINAJ IS OUR WINNER TONIGHT!!!</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">What a cracking opening battle folks. Nicki Minaj obviously did her homework before the battle tonight and capitalised on her opponent's only weakness. Join us again next time as another pair of celebrities go head-to-head in</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;">Sir Scribbles'</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330000;">"Super Uber Mega Celebrity Blog Brawl" </span></b></span></div></div></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-81213182680108845582010-01-18T07:11:00.000-08:002010-01-18T12:53:02.628-08:00That's what I think sha...CHEI! It's been a while sha! If you cross reference the dates between this post and my last post and then compare the values with the factorised sum of the intervals between my posts 3 months ago and then relate your results to the exact moment I started blogging then you realised that the coefficient of 10SINZU is how many days it's been since my last post. YES! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I JUST TYPED! lol. Le tė shkojnė atje!! (Albanian for "Let's go there")<div><br /></div><div>There should be a public holiday dedicated to the men who risk their lives everyday in the ruthless jungle called dating with nothing to defend themselves except cheesy pickup lines and cliches. Don't you just think it's rather brave of a young man too walk up to you, a babe of evident class, and say something like 'Nice legs baby, what time do they open?'. What I always wonder about is the state of mind of a guy who thinks "Your dad must be a baker cos I love ur buns" is an appropriate way of potraying yourself as an eligible suitor. I think I've told you, my lovely wonderful beautiful readers (make ur head no swell sha), that I detest pickup lines especially since a creative one today is tomorrow's cliche. Let's just say I prefer a less 'mechanical' approach to starting a conversation with a young woman. I'm not saying pickup lines are bad oh! I'm not saying they shud be abolished and anyone caught using a pickup line shud be executed by firing squad, dats not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is there shud be an organised body established with the sole aim of regulating the creation, use and expiration of pickup lines. Anyone who invents one without getting it verified, uses one without the right authorization or after it's expiration date shud then be sent to the gallows. That's all I'm saying. That's not so bad is it? it's a gud idea no? at least Magas will stop approaching and talking rubbish to you ladies and we men will raise our game a bit...not that I need to anyways *wink wink*</div><div><br /></div><div>I keep saying that I don't think there will ever be any publication that accurately defines, precisely elaborates and utterly summarises the relationship between Men and Women. Now remember we are excluding holy books here cos I don't want any divine wahala on my hands. I have realised that no matter how big the book is, how extensive the research was or how much time was invested in study you will always find one person who will prove any existing theory, suggestions or laws concerning relationship wrong. Opposites don't always attract, Long distance relationships do work and age really is just a number when you see it from people's perspectives. All I'm saying is don't be stereotypical when analysing your life or the life or others. Thinking outside the box usually shows you how small the box really is. I dey form relationship analyst shey? dnt mind me oh! Wat do I know? I'm just saying what I feel as usual and if you agree or object then there's a very big box provided for you below to make it known. PEACE!</div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-27894243014828615042010-01-08T20:05:00.000-08:002010-01-08T20:51:06.288-08:00We begin scribbling for 2010...WAAAIT! Before you even conclude that I have left just hold it! Yes, I considered leaving, I thogth about quitting blogging and callind an end to the blogging edifice that is The Royal Scribbles...for about 5 mins lol! Did you really think I'd leave you liek dat? If was to leave blogsville where I go kon go? Where else will my insanity be considered creativity and my sillyness be seen as addictive humour? I haven't blogged this year simply cos I hadn't found d right trigger for 2010. I'm definitely not losing my mojo! I just wanted to start 2010 in a new yet traditional way and needed to find my sweet spot for this year. What do u look for when you come here, thought provoking satires, mind boggling wit, bewildering creativity and the occasional rant about some girl who is vexing me shey? Ladies and Gentlemen we commence 2010 in d same fashion...make I gist you something.<br /><br />I was jejely on my own oh! you know I dnt look for trouble naw? I was walking thru d shopping mall yesterday minding my own business when some random stranger (obviously all strangers r random wth am i saying?) just walks up to me and tells me I'm looking gud. If to say na woman I 4 no worry but it was a guy....see me see wahala o! I didn't even know whether to take it as a compliment or see it as a source of concern. I thanked the guy and walked away facing him cos I didn't want him staring at my posterior ('butt' to you laymen). Now why was I concerned? I'm assuming the guy was gay cos the way he stopped me to compliment me is d same way I, an astute heterosexual, would stop a girl nd compliment her too (practical still pending). Did his compliment mean I was looking gud in general and would also be found attractive by the female folk of like sexuality or did he mean I looked gud such dat only members of the gay community would find me 'interesting'? You see the dilemma dat morrasucker brought upon me in d middle of my stern window-shopping? I went out to stare at stuff I can't afford and came back query every outfit in my closet. I shud start wearing darker colours mehn...<br /><br />Sexual innuendos are everywhere these days. It's like d world has just gone sex crazy and it's alright to advertise a burger as if it's a new item on the Karma sutra menu. You can't listen to 3 songs today without coming across one with cleverly yet somewhat overtly embedded innuendos. The thing about sexual inferences in songs is dat you can never win. If you don't identify them someone else will and point them out to you, in that moment when you are enlightened you also feel ignorance tapping you on d shoulder thanking you for letting him sleepover. However, if you do identify the innuendos single-handedly then you simply credit you mind with 5 more naughty points and hence feel more perverted than you were before you hit the play button. I'm now bordering on paranoia when it comes to analysing songs, I tear lyrics apart just to be sure I'm not singing along to something that indirectly instructs the nearest female to slobber my 'nether' regions. Very soon I'll resort to listening to silence but wiv d way d world is going I'm sure Def Jam will find a way to pollute silence as well.<br /><br />Ah! dis feels gud! How could I ever think of leaving? Btw r u on Twitter? U rnt? why? is ur computer allergic? r u lucid? why rnt you on twitter? my fren pack ur load nd get to tweeting mehn! Dnt worry if u sign up nd u don't understand it immediately, it's natural and you can't be like me so give yourself time to get the hang of it. As for those of you on twitter hope you are following me? I dnt mean literally following me cos if u walk behind me for more than 10 secs ur gonna be receivng my size 12s in a less than receptive area. My twitfam (twitter family to u laymen) are awesome and that's cos they r all mad nd I say dat wiv love lol. much luv to d Twitfam...#youwerecooluntil you joined twitter and followed me, now u r cooler lol.Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-39515399065515820432009-12-30T19:25:00.000-08:002009-12-30T20:14:29.128-08:00Scribbles signing out for 2009...2009 don end shaaaa! Like play like play 2009 is merely hours from ending and Sir Scribbles II has a wheelbarrow's worth of things to be thankful for in 2009. I think what I'm most thankful for is Blogsville, Una too much sha! I cnt even begin to detail how much I've been blessed by you guys I swear! From people I've met to lessons I've learnt, e too much to write for one post! Thanks...that's all I can say...Thank you! Anyways I just wanted to do a recap of stuff dat happened as the year was drawing to a close...enjoy peeps<br /><br />Na the silent ones dangerous pass mehn! Who'd have thought Tiger Woods would be putting balls in different holes on and off the golf course? If Tiger could do it who am I? Oga was a role model to many and look how he just threw it all away in d laps of a woman..sorry...many women! I still can't believe oga had like 15 mistresses shaaaa! Well he just proved dat truely body no be wood, he simply took his tiger and decided to enter any and all woods he came across...Big ups to you Tiger! Let's see how u come back from this one.<br /><br />Too many people died in 2009. I dnt want to talk too much on dis cos e go dull d mood but peeps shud please be careful next year cos we lost too many good folks in 2009. I don talk my own sha, in 2010 I'm going to be extra careful and very safety conscious because you never know where or when the Grim reaper go wan play expensive joke. In 2010 I go dey wear helmet butter bread sef.<br /><br />He's probably the only terrorist who had to repeat playgroup in Suicide bombing school. I'm soooo tempted to go crazy in dis paragraph nd give u an overdose of quips on dis guy but na very serious issue so I'll behave myself. Mutallab messed up shaaaa! D guy fall naija hand on a global scale and even though naija does dat on a normal day I dnt think we need any assistance from terrorists whether d one's wey sabi explode or the one's wey no sabi. However, it does raise some very important questions don't you think? how did he get past the 'omniscient' entity that is Airport security? How did he smuggle a syringe past that uber cool xray machine thingy? Apparently oga's popsy reported him to the authorities and they didn't take him seriously, isn't dat just crazy? How can someone's popsy tell you that his son is a radical and might be a threat to the lives of others and you just file his name under 'Pikin of paranoid papa'? I tire sha, dis is one issue I think will have cause a chain reaction nd not d good kind. Make we dey watch as e dey happen.<br /><br />I'm tired og yanning joh! Wishing all d lovely folks a wonderful year ahead and that goes out to all of you cos all of you are lovely. Just so this doesn't catch you unaware I might stop blogging...not confirmed yet but I'm thinking about it nd just thot I'd tell you. Happy New year peeps! PEACE OUT!Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8567350033074536593.post-89090305197024616432009-12-19T16:09:00.000-08:002009-12-20T13:42:32.241-08:00Spoof Ad #5<div style="text-align: justify;">Are you scared of humiliation? Do you hate awkwardness and loathe mortification? If you've answered yes to any of these questions then you know how it feels to be powerless when caught unaware in a less than admirable position. Man has always found a way to solve problems that have faced his society and has done remarkably well in eliminating or curbing the negative effects of such problems but some things just can't be solved, things like embarrassment! According to statitics, embarrassment is the world's most deadly consequence of awkward situatons (Statics unverified) and no one has ever thought to address this issue...until now! Scribble corp. has made another breakthrough discovery just like <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">RAZZ-BE-GONE</span> and <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">VIRTUAL MAMA 2000. <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Ladies and Gentlemen I give you...</span></span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">THE TRANS<span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">MUGU</span>LATOR</span></span><br /><br />The name says it all, <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">THE TRANSMUGULATOR</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"> is an anonymous and fast way to transfer a potentially embarrassing position from yourself to someone else making that unsuspecting receipient your Mugu. As is every Scribbles corp. product the </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">Transmugulator</span></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"> </span></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">is</span></span></span> safe and easy to use but we'd rather you hear what a patron had to say about this wonderful product.<span style="font-size:100%;"> Here's a testimony from a very staisified customer. (Names and places have been changed to protect the identity of this consumer)<br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"><br />"</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">My name is Sandra Bamboye and I use to be the Vice Principal of </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Atutupoyoyo Grammar School</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">.</span></span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">A friend of mine got me the</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Transmugulator</span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">as a birthday present and made me promise to carry it on me everyday, I didn't see the point then but I indulged her nontheless. During a PTA meeting a few weeks later I was delivering the term update to parents and teachers alike when I was suddenly arrested by a fart. This wasn't the silent twitch-your-butt cheek and release fart, this was the loud kind and I knew it was because when the fart got to the rim of my rectum the muscles in my waist contracted and I had to clench my butt cheeks to keep this monstrosity of a fart from escaping. Then I remembered the</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Transmugulator</span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">my friend got me, I reached into my pocket calmly, pictured the person I wanted to transfer the fart to in my mind</span> </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">and squeezed the</span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">Transmugulator.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"> </span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:100%;" >Instantly I felt relieved and almost immediately the Principal let out a resounding fart. Today, I am the Prinicipal of Atutupoyoyo Grammar School and I owe it all to the </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">Transmugulator. </span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-size:100%;" >I highly recommend this product to everyone</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"> and hope it blesses you as much as it blessed me</span></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">"</span></span><br /><br />Don't let embarrassment stop you from achieving your goals, Don't be a Mugu when someone else can be a Mugu for you. Place your order now and the first 10 customers to order will receive a priceless 'Marko Blake Parker Pen'. Don't let fate and luck run your life, seize control and never be a mugu again with the <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">TRANSMUGULATOR!!!!!!!!!</span><br /><br /></div> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">THE TRANS<span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">MUGU</span>LATOR</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Why be a Mugu when someone else can do it for you?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);font-size:78%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">DISCLAIMER:</span> Use of the Transmugulator is completely under Consumer discretion and Scribble corp. will not accept responsibility for transfers leading to loss of Life, Money or any other form of property especially over the internet. The Marko Blake Parker Pen comes without Ink. Minor Side effects like irregular bowel movement, tiny cranial fractures and cardio-jerks may be exprienced. Enjoy!</span><br /></div></div>Sir Scribbleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03090080300259543990noreply@blogger.com23