Cry For Me Please

I have a new favorite movie – The Book Thief. Don’t take my word for it, it’s not all that. I love the movie first because I found my wife in it, and second because, well I don’t know. Plus I learnt to describe stuff as though my eyes could speak. Try it. That’s by the way.

Not much has been happening in the Life of Shovel. Reason? I don’t know. Nothing fun wants to happen. This is how my life goes basically now – class, study, study, sleep, and the obvious things I need not list. But you can trust me to find something to tell. Here goes

You know what I hate more than quiet toilets in this life? Of course you don’t.

Breath. Bad breath. It’s common knowledge that bad breath is the worst thing in this life. Surely you know I’ll never state a point without backing it up with a personal story.

About an hour ago, I needed a drink so obviously I went to get one. The buttery was crowded as usual and as usual, again, a brother had to struggle and hustle to get a bottle of Fanta.

This story is one best told with a diagram to illustrate.

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I’m the blue dot. The yellow dot is one guy that needs three or four cans of tic-tac. The green lines represent good air. And the red lines represent fire; i.e. bad air.

As you can see, I am surrounded by a heavy and concentrated dose of ‘practically literal fire’. And you should also clearly see how the good air is struggling to get to me.

So I’m busy struggling, hoping the attendant answers me quickly when this really fair (light-skin) guy decides to stand right beside me although were facing different directions. I was getting frustrated a bit cos I had been waiting for a long time. Plus the place was hot. The second I mistakenly thought it couldn’t get worse, I began to perceive a deadly and evil odor. No jokes, the last time anything smelled that bad was back in Chemistry class in Secondary school when I worked with Ammonia (Fun fact – Ammonia smells like concentrated urine).

My senses shut down temporarily. The smell was messing with my feelings. Believe you me when I say I thought about every bad thing I’ve done, every lie I’ve told, everything I’ve taken without permission, everyone I had offended and how I could apologize cos this devilish son of a soak-away stink breath reached that deep into my soul.

All the osmosis and Zeroth law of thermodynamics lectures came into play. I have never understood the principle of equilibrium setting this well until that exact moment.

My knowledge of; to be honest I don’t know of what exactly made me quickly deduce the source of this specially prepared disturbingly smelly potion of hell.

This yellow dot guy is taller than me so my nose is like directly in line with his mouth. No matter how hard I tried to evade or weave or dodge the fire from this young man’s mouth, the smell hit me hard. To make things worse, he casually and conveniently kept on yelling ‘TWO h-EGGROLL’. Which brings me to Yoruba people and our H-factor issues. Lemme not enter that topic right now cos I doubt I’ll stop.

Anyway, common sense told me to excuse myself. I went to my room, folded into a ball and cried briefly. My eyes and nose hurt. I couldn’t smell stuff properly for about an hour. This guy’s breath disoriented my inner man; it bore into my soul; it reset my senses.

But how can light skin breath be so bad? This world is a very mysterious place

 

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