Deal or no Deal 😜
It was 8:47 p.m. that dangerous Nigerian time when NEPA had just taken light without notice and mosquitoes were flying around like they had scheduled an emergency meeting with no chairman. The streetlights blinked weakly, dogs barked at shadows, and the road had that eerie silence that made every footstep sound like a drumbeat.
Blessing was walking fast-fast.
Not strolling. Not enjoying breeze. She was power-walking, clutching her phone with both hands, typing furiously like someone fighting for her life in WhatsApp group chat.
“God abeg let me reach house,” she muttered, adjusting her handbag and looking around.
That was when she felt it.
That instinct.
She glanced back.
Three guys.
Behind her.
One was coughing like generator that needs servicing. One was laughing anyhow, like hyena in cartoon. The third was shouting, “Madam wait na! Why you dey run?”
Her heart skipped.
Then jumped.
Then nearly packed its bags and relocated.
“Jesus is Lord!!!” Blessing screamed, breaking into full sprint.
Forget Usain Bolt. Forget Olympics. Blessing ran like rent was due and landlord was behind her. Her slippers slapped the ground aggressively as she scanned for help.
That was when she saw it a security post beside a massive compound with high fences and electric wire that probably hadn’t worked since 2012.
She changed direction instantly.
“SECURITY MAN!!! SECURITY MAN!!! HELP ME!!!” she cried, bursting into the post like action film.
The security man on duty, Mallam Musa, was seated comfortably on a plastic chair, chewing groundnuts like he had all the time in the world. He adjusted his cap slowly. Too slowly.
He looked left.
Looked right.
Then smiled a small smile that was not smiling.
The kind of smile that makes your village people wake up.
“Hmmm,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“Madam… come inside. I fit hide you.”
Blessing nearly collapsed in relief.
“Ah! Thank you sir! God bless you! God bless your generations!” she said, rushing in.
Mallam Musa leaned closer.
Too close.
Then he whispered, voice low and oily,
“But… you go spend the night with me.
Deal or no deal?”
Time froze.
Blessing’s brain shut down. Her soul briefly left her body, went to heaven, greeted Peter, then came back.
“EH?!”
She staggered back. “Uncle are you well?? I’m running for my LIFE!”
Mallam Musa shrugged. “Life no free, madam.”
That was when Blessing’s survival instincts upgraded.
She dropped to the floor and began crying like someone whose tears were on wholesale.
“Please sir 😭 I have asthma! I have ulcer! I have pile! I have BP! I have sugar! I have everything! If you touch me I will die!”
Mallam Musa scratched his head.
“Even better,” he said proudly. “I be nurse small.”
Just as he reached for the gate…
The three “chasing” guys arrived, panting dramatically.
One shouted, “ACTION! 🎥”
Another said, “Mallam smile well oh, camera dey record!”
The third removed his cap and burst out laughing.
“Blessing! You too dey overact!”
Silence.
Mallam Musa’s face drained of color like garri soaked in cold water.
Blessing stopped crying instantly.
Like NEPA restoring light.
She stood up, dusted her clothes, adjusted her hair, and smiled sweetly.
“Mallam Musa,” she said calmly,
“Meet my brothers.”
She gestured to the guys.
“And this,” she added, pointing to the phone recording everything,
“Is for a social experiment on wicked security men.”
One brother shook his head.
“Uncle, so na ‘deal or no deal’ you dey run for night shift?”
Another added, “Don’t worry. Video go trend small. Just small.”
Sweat poured down Mallam Musa’s face like harmattan dew.
“Ah… madam… I be joke… I be joke…”
Too late.
At that moment, the compound gate opened.
The owner stepped out in a wrapper and singlet.
“What is going on here?!”
Everybody pointed at Mallam Musa.
That night:
Mallam Musa lost his job
Lost his night shift
Lost his small authority
Lost his dignity
Blessing walked away laughing, arm in arm with her brothers.
As she disappeared into the night, she said loudly:
“Next time you see woman running, run HELP her not your village plans!”
Moral of the story:
Not every “deal” is a good deal.
And sometimes, the hunters are the ones being hunted
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