-BY AYOMIDE OLANIYAN
My friends and I had taken a short trip to the cinema to see a horror movie; I wasn’t particularly comfortable with the movie as the influence the big screen – whose brightness could be almost equaled to a halo surrounding an angel – had on me was unnerving. Unnerving because it’s not entirely right to go around accepting that I, a full-grown male, would be terrified by anything that is characterized by bloodshed or violence. The society does not expect anything less from me.
Well, after surviving what appeared to be The Holocaust, my friends and I had spent the rest of the day discussing the disparities in the behavioral attitudes of whites and blacks – the human race and not an Instagram filter as you might have imagined – generally, while specifically emphasizing how each race acts when anything horrific seems imminent. We made allusions to the movie we had seen earlier that day as we discussed intricately and sardonically, and this eventually led us to the prank we decided to run on our fellow students in the Univerisity of Lagos, popularly known as Unilag.
That evening, we gathered outside the outdated looking condominium that was regarded as the Faculty of Arts. We had patiently waited for a throng of students to temporarily come around the premises before we initiated the impeccably staged act.
“How dare you hit me in the face? You piece of filth” Yusuf had asked with a face that beamed with uncontrollable anger, the anger that made his sinewy hands tremble. He was breathing heavily, trying not to let his composure tread the same path that his anger traveled.
Yusuf is a student in his 2nd year in Marine Science department, and an exceptionally gifted bloke. His creativity had gotten him quite a reputation in the institution, his graphic works dominating prominent places. He was also musically gifted.
”Mo ma fun e ni igbati ni ekan si” I’ll slap you once more. The young man, who held Yusuf’s Hollister shirt, acted desperately with his stout hands and started screaming intensely in his native dialect, with the veins on his head looking like contours coalescing to form a unique map, the kind of map which can guide one on a voyage from earth to purgatory. Demola is the opponent here.
Demola, unlike Yusuf, is a dropout – a proud one, ironically. He is a versatile young man with a range of several skills that qualified him for the title like the ‘Renaissance man’. His head was full with hair, the hair stood outstandingly tall, and like climbing to the top of the Eiffel tower you could actually get a nice view of the entire world atop his head.
“Leave my cloth and let me be, young man!” Yusuf implored, his anger not subsiding as he was fuming gravely, but he rid the temper in him from the tone of the words he articulated. He struggled, still trying to maintain his composure, but Demola seemed obstinate; holding on to him as if this was what he was created to accomplish on earth.
A massive crowd of students had now gathered and were watching the scuffle intently. It seemed to thrill most as this scene was something they scarcely saw. Some security men strode towards the scene ostensibly with the purport of squelching the tussle. A fight had transpired between two furious young men and had easily deteriorated into an uncontrollable uproar. Unilag had become the chief host of the WWE, the World Wrestling Entertainment.
The security men had caught up with them and successfully separated them. Series of questions were asked and they both answered respectively. The tumult seemed to be dying down when suddenly and unexpectedly, Demola removed a gourd that was draped in a red piece of cloth from his pocket swiftly and hoisted it in the air. And immediately, he advanced towards Yusuf and poked his forehead with it – the gourd. Yusuf fell straight to the floor twitching and spewing saliva from his mouth as though he were convulsing.
In a split second, every possible person who had witnessed this eerie scene took upon themselves the abilities of Minato – the popular Yellow Flash, featured in an anime called Naruto – with immense speed. The security men had all vanished, the students had all disappeared in less the time it will take an hypnotist to snap his fingers. The frontal section of the Faculty of Arts was almost void, if not for a few young men left, who now laughed hysterically as they had successfully played a prank on the students and security men in Unilag. What a well staged act. Sadly, there was no one left around to enjoy the hoax we had set up.