TGIF, people! Unfortunately, due to reasons beyond my control, I won’t be publishing any episode of Amicus Curiae today. I’ll do that next week. I sincerely apologise to every one who had been looking forward to this. My BBM has been on fire since morning when I broke the news vide my PM.

 

Tolu, Uwah, Daneil, Nkem, Sokoribobo, Ify baby, Mani, Teemee et al, make all of una forgive me, abeg.

 

To calm flaying nerves, I decided to publish a short story instead. Please do give it a read and let me know what you think. Also use the share button too. It’s free, I promise. O se!

 

Justice Aderemi-Ishola Fagbohun of the Lagos State High Court walked sluggishly into his seat. He looked downcast and forlorn. His heart was heavy. Although, today was another Monday, which meant another week of hearing the problems of the world had begun, this was not the primary reason for his unhappiness. His unhappiness lay between the thighs of Lara – his standby call girl, who had denied him a gate-pass into her throne of grace over the weekend because he had refused to furnish consideration for the ceremony. What consideration was this? A million naira.

Lara had requested that he gave her a million naira, but Justice Aderemi-Ishola had blatantly refused to oblige her. He did not consider her worthy of such amount of money. Lara was a cheap call girl whom he once picked along Allen Avenue one faithful Friday evening when the call of nature erected a mountain-of-fire consciousness around his groin as he returned home from Court. Justice Aderemi-Ishola has always had the same problem as the legendary King of Israel – the love for a maiden’s garden. He had battled with this personal demon all his life. However, the demon only seemed to have grown bigger since his elevation to the Bench. So, this faithful Friday evening after a hard day in court, he had a visitation from this demon on his way home.

Lara proved to be the very angel he needed that evening as she quenched his ravaging fire with acrobatic, WWE-esque bed moves. She then lit his ravaging fire, quenched it again, lit it once more and quenched it yet again. All in the space of three hours. Within those three hours, Lara transformed the learned Bench into the monster he had always only dreamt of being with his wife. There and then, Justice Aderemi-Ishola knew that he had found heaven. He knew he had to have her all to himself. Thenceforth, he made it a habit to boost her financial health. Every month end, he always sent her gifts wrapped in beautiful linens, accompanied with a hundred thousand naira worth of cheque. Just a hundred thousand naira worth of cheque. He knew the money was not reflective of his status, but he needed not give Lara any ideas that she could have more.

Last week Thursday, everything was about to change. He got a text from Lara requesting that he upped his monthly sacrifice to a million naira. Justice Aderemi-Ishola knew the game was about to change. But he was not ready just yet. Give in to her demand and she would ask for a hundred million naira the next time. These street ratchets were not loyal.

No. He would not accede to her request. If she wanted to call it quits with him, good riddance to her throne of grace.

Last week Friday, Justice Aderemi-Ishola decided to call Lara’s bluff. So, he dialled her line to book the regular visit, but lo and behold, she did not answer. This had never happened before. Ever. She almost always picked his calls on the first ring, like she was always staying on standby, waiting for him to call. There and then, the Learned Bench knew that the house cat had become a Sambisa tiger.

Justice Aderemi-Ishola dialled her number all through the weekend. She still did not answer. Lara was serious about her threat. This morning however, he got a text from her which read,

Dun u efa in ya lif, call ma line agn. Efa!

Justice Aderemi-Ishola grew goose pimples all over his groin. His man swelled like it would explode. There and then, it dawned on him that, his staff of honour had lost a rare gem of inestimable value. Forever. The sweetest garden he had ever harvested was gone. And this saddened him greatly like his mother had died. He felt as if he was carrying the burden of the world on his shoulders. An unfathomable act of god.

“Call the first case,” he said nonchalantly to the court clerk upon recovering from his reverie.

“Suit No: LD/1427/2013: Oluwayemi Falode and six others and Otunba Rasak Onikoyi.”

It was a land dispute suit. The seven Claimants had sued the village head, Otunba Rasak Onikoyi a.k.a Old Money Never Dies for using touts to trespass over their land.

“Parties?” Justice Aderemi-Ishola asked in low tone. He wished the day was over already.

The parties were absent. None of the seven claimants nor the defendant was in court. Justice Aderemi-Ishola could not have been more irritated by their absence.

“Any appearances?”

The Claimants and Defendant’s counsel announced their appearances.

“Why are your clients not in court?” Justice Aderemi-Ishola asked the claimants’ lawyer.

The lawyer, an old man who looked to have clocked past his “death age” stared at the Judge without an answer. He had no answer. He had no idea why his clients were not in court. He had informed them the previous day of today’s proceedings and they had promised to be available. Now they were not here.

“My Lord,” he said with a shaky, unsteady voice. “My clients are on their way. Just before the court sat, they had called to say they were in traffic…”

“Case struck out,” Justice Aderemi-Ishola interrupted. “Registrar, call the next case.”

“What?” the claimants’ lawyer said in disbelief, unconscious of how loud his voice was. “But My Lord…”

“Counsel, I am done with you. Registrar, next case.”

“Petition No: LD/1111/1997: Mrs Patricia Araromire and Mr. Felix Araromire….”

“No! My Lord,” the Claimants’ lawyer persisted. He could not understand what warranted his case to be struck out. This was a case in which he was handling almost pro bono because his clients could not afford his professional fees. They had only given him a paltry sum to file the processes in court and had agreed to be paying him “appearance fees”. If this case was struck out, his clients would not give him a dime for appearing in court today. He could not let that. “My Lord, you can’t strike out our case…”

“Will counsel address the court properly?” Justice Aderemi-Ishola said, his patience running thin. Lara’s text message had destroyed his day.

“I will address My Lord as I want!”

The whole court was in shock. This was an unprecedented reaction from Counsel in court.

Justice Aderemi-Ishola was not in the mood for any hyperactive Hollywood-wannabe Counsel today. He knew what to do.

“Baba, I will charge you with contempt if you don’t keep quiet,” he warned.

“My Lord, the law is trite….”

Justice Aderemi-Ishola had had enough.

“Musa,” he called at his Police Orderly who sat behind him. “Take this man into the box…”

As Musa approached the elderly lawyer, the learned Bench’s phone which was beside his gavel, buzzed. He had a Whasapp message. He stole a quick glance at the message. It was from Lara. Justice Aderemi-Ishola’s face brightened. Slowly, he moved his hands towards his phone to access the message. Lara had sent him twenty Whatsapp messages. They were all provocatively nude pictures of her.

“Jesus,” Justice Aderemi-Ishola whispered unconsciously as he jerked in his seat. Suddenly, his man started rising gloriously underneath his pants. Gradually, it hardened like the rock of Gibraltar. He felt throngs of electrodes fire through his system as the hair on his back rose in attention.

Another message from Lara came in. It read,

If u want dz, mt me @ Room 400 @ 4 Pointz by Sharatin by 10.00 am

Justice Aderemi-Ishola could not believe his eyes. Was this for real? Was the Queen of Sheba returning to Solomon? Was his gate-pass to the throne of grace returned? Oh! How much he had missed her water melon! Lara was one weird floosie. He loved her little games.

Another message from Lara came in.

Not a 2nd late.

Justice Aderemi-Ishola looked at the clock hanging on the wall of the court room. It was five minutes past nine. He looked at the court room. It was as full as a pack of sardine, with expectant faces of lawyers and their clients.

“Let Baba go,” he said to the Police Orderly who was leading the past-death-age lawyer to the dock.

The audience in court were surprised at the sudden turn of events. What was His Lordship up to?

“The court shall go on recess…..till 12pm,” he said, without offering an explanation. He rose, took a bow and scurried out of the court room. The lawyers were left stunned.

Justice Aderemi-Ishola dispensed with his driver and decided to drive himself instead. He was not sure of what he was doing. He did not care. The only thing he was sure of was that, he had to get into Lara’s throne of grace, else, he could run mad. He would run mad. The last three days had been the most miserable in his life.

He cruised his SUV on Lagos roads as a Formula One driver would and by 09.55am, he was already at Four Points by Sheraton in Victoria Island. He hurried over to the elevator and punched the keys like Mike Tyson, his heart pounding like Usain Bolt rode on it. By the time he got to his floor, he was already sweating profusely like a dejected dog drenched by its abusive owner. He pulled his shirt over his fat body as he ran down the hallway. His protruding tummy jiggled like Miley Cyrus on a “wrecking ball”.

Justice Aderemi-Ishola rushed over to the room with Number “400” inscribed on the door and pushed open the door. By now, he was already lost for breath. He bowed his head, his tongue hanging out as he panted. When he raised his head, his eyes witnessed the last thing in the world he had expected to see:

His wife.

Their three kids.

Lara.

And

His Pastor.

 

***

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