My neighbors kids are fond of playing stupid pranks. You can wake up to find a dead bat at your entrance or a lizard chilling on your car bonnet.

And when you scream—especially the ladies—you’ll hear giggles from a corner or even see camera lights flashing. Yes, they record the reactions for fun.

Either that or they’ll come out every morning to skip half naked where their brezz and yansh will be bouncing upandan. As a man you dare not go close to your window when they’re skipping or doing yoga, else you will explain tire to your wife or babe why you’re looking outside.

Some of the other tenants have complained to their parents and even the landlord, but nothing has been done. The parents are the typical “We don’t believe in flogging” type. In fact, they’ll boldly tell you to “grow a pair” or “learn to take a joke.”

Mind you, these girls aren’t children. The most useless one is about 18 or 19.

They had never targeted us directly—until one day.

I was coming back from work under the hot sun and saw the girl walking. As a good neighbor, I stopped and offered her a ride. She was so excited. She said she’d been hoping I’d pass because she knew my route and even my closing time.

Huh! In my head I’m like, “WTF!”

She must’ve seen the confusion on my face because she burst into loud, wild laughter, throwing her hands backward and bending under the seat like she was about to faint.

I swear, I almost crashed the car. I thought she was running mad.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She just giggled and said, “Your face! I wish I had my camera on.”

I forced a nervous laugh and drove straight to our compound, eager for her to get out of my car.

I didn’t gist my wife because she doesn’t like them and would’ve mocked me endlessly.

After that incident, I changed my route completely. I either came home earlier than usual or much later.

Two weeks later, my wife went to get the car washed. While she was there, we were chatting on the phone. Then she suddenly went silent and came back home looking like a volcano ready to erupt.

Apparently, the car wash guy found a g-string pant under the seat.

Omo, war broke out in my house that day. I’m sure the entire neighborhood and the next street heard our voices for the very first time.

I was shouting. My wife was screaming. I almost swore by Sango that I had no idea how that pant got there. For the life of me, I couldn’t explain the how, where or who!

It took the grace of God and plenty swear both with Bible and my preeq for my wife to let it go. Story by Ajebo Writer. But even then, I knew I wasn’t off the hook.

About an hour after the fight, someone knocked. I opened the door and saw her—the girl I gave a ride to. She said she wanted to speak to both me and my wife.

I told her it wasn’t a good time, but she insisted. Curious, I let her in.

Then she turned to my wife and said:
“I’m sorry. It was just a prank.”

Prank? What is a prank?

She said the pant was hers. That the day I gave her a ride, she hid it under the seat as a joke.

“Which day?!” my wife barked.

I was speechless.

She repeated her apology and asked if she could have her pant back. The look my wife gave her sent her running out of the house.

“You carried that brat in my car?!”

Another fight started.

We later went to her house to report to her parents. They said, “She’s just a child playing games. Please forgive her, we’ll talk to her.”

That same evening, we saw them heading out to the shawarma and ice cream spot across the estate.

I begged my wife to let it go. But I knew her. She wouldn’t until she had responded in kind.

Two weeks later, my wife had gone to work. I was at home when we heard screams outside.

I rushed out—and what I saw shocked me.

A masquerade was flogging the life out of the girl at the gate. And this wasn’t small flogging. It was intentional, well-coordinated flogging.

She was screaming and begging, but the masquerade didn’t stop.

Omo, I was confused and scared. A masquerade? In an estate for that matter?! How, from where?

I looked around. None of the neighbors made any attempt to help. Instead, they were laughing and recording with their phones.

I ran forward to stop the masquerade, but he pointed the cane at me. I paused. He continued flogging.

I moved again, determined to stop him. Just then, he bolted into a parked car I hadn’t noticed earlier. Before I could blink, the car sped off.

Masquerade with a getaway driver?!

I helped the girl up. She was bruised and battered, still crying and screaming. I called her parents and waited with her until they came and rushed her to the hospital.

Hospital ontop cane! Ajebo children. Story by Ajebo Writer.

Well I went home and few minutes later my wife came back with a bag I didn’t notice before. I quickly downloaded everything that happened to my wife except the part where I tried to intervene

Yet, this woman looked at me and said, “Busy body. Knight in shining armor. Out of everybody only you wanted to help, abi? Superman.” She hissed and went to take a shower

Ho-how did she know? Curious, I opened the bag.

Inside? Masquerade costume.

Just then, her phone beeped. Since we know each other’s passwords, I opened it.

It was a message from her best friend, Fatimah: “Howfar, sebi your husband no suspect anything abi? Bad girl. Just call me next time you wan flog person again, I’m always at your service.”

Women

The End

Ajebo Writer

©️Kingdavid Chinaeke Ofunne