Wednesday, 13 February 2008
THE TRIGGER TALE...part seven
“I think we should take him to the hospital”, as he poured himself some cold water from the dispenser, handing another cup to Atiko.
“Don’t be hysterical! He’s only having a fit of stress- nightmare. By the time he wakes up I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Atiko assured Funki, as she pressed her chest against his. She used her teeth to draw his lips apart…caressed his chin. He kissed her on the forehead and downed the remaining water left in the cup. He threw the cup in a corner and did the same to Atiko’s. They stood face to face to - two passionate lovers- just a breath apart. With his left hand he was unbuttoning her shirt and with the right hand stroking her tresses; she heaved as the buttons were undone. They kissed. He started to pull off the shirt from her body…
“Come on, you shameless he-goat!” Atiko stopped Funki, as beads of sweat began to form a halo on his forehead with his heart beating a hyper-rate. “Remember, don’t forget, no fornicator shall inherit God’s kingdom!”
“Why then have you been leading me on all this while?” Funki retorted, trying to put her shirt back in shape. Rather than button up the shirt he became to caress her chest- Atiko gave him a light knock on his head. “Hey young man, are you going to rape your fiancée!” she said as she gently pushed him away. “Aren’t you ashamed treating a lady this way- in front of your friend?”
“But-,” Funki was protesting.
“But me no buts,” his fiancée quickly cut in.
“But he’s sleeping…” he said finishing his statement.
“No-no-no! if you really want to touch and caress my body when and how you want it make me your wife as soon as possible- until then, embargo on kissing and unbuttoning of my shirt, or trying to be ungentlemanly”.
“What a heck- Miss Moral!”
“Handy!” he jumped out of his chair as he screamed.
“Ozi!” the lovers exclaimed in unison. “Relax baby,” Funki said as he walked towards Ozi, who looked dazed like someone who had just escaped a dragon-guarded dungeon. “It’s a nightmare. You’ll be fine”.
“Come, sit on the sofa,” Funki beckoned. Ozi stood still with the word stupefied describing him. “Come baby,” Atiko repeated the invitation, as she walked towards him. “No, I’m dead!” he said, gesturing to her not to come any closer. “You’re what!” she said- an interjection rather than a question. “Dead man tells no tale, you know? You must be kidding. It’s been a nightmare. You survived it.”
“I was killed,” Ozi said not relenting. “OK. You were killed! Why are you still alive talking? Cut the craps my friend,” Funki said in exasperation. “Just come and sit down dead or alive,” he told Ozi as he dragged him to the sofa. The three were seated. They all sat there looking morosely at nothing.
“Was it all in a dream- some nightmare? I heard people mourning that I had died,” Ozi began looking at his best friend.
“I saw you and Atiko crying uncontrollably…why?” he asked as he threw his hands into the air in resignation. He shook his head and turned his face in Atiko’s direction. She smiled at him as she held his hands tenderly, as if reassuring him that it was just a terrible nightmare and now relax we are with you. He tried to force a smile back but failed; his countenance was of one who was befuddled.
“Do you want anything? You want us to take you to the hospital? Or you want us to leave you alone?” Funki queried in succession.
“Come on dear…don’t bury the poor guy with your questions!” she said. She looked at Ozi again, kissed him on the forehead and said: “Do you want to tell us about the dream; you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Maybe it will make you feel better sharing with us what you just experienced in your dark moment.”
“Do you guys think am going gaga or something like it?” he asked. “Well, I am not a psychiatrist. So I wouldn’t know,” his friend retorted.
“Tell us your dream,” Atiko suggested.
Ozi heaved a sigh. He looked into the empty void and shook his head. His two friends looked at him patiently- they wanted to have a peek into his troubled mind.