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Debola had had enough of staring at his laptop screen. Made his neck crackle involuntarily before looking to the extreme right of the toolbar… it was nine minutes past wee hour one.

Made to shut his laptop down when the living room went dark. “No fucking way!!” he exclaimed to himself and watched helplessly as the HP died abruptly before its operating system had shut down.

He made a mental note to buy a new battery for it in the course of the coming day, just as he’d promised to in the last couple of months.

Stood from his work table; actually it was the dining table but his fingers tapped more on the keyboard than they held cutlery, and fumbled to the kitchen.

“Arrgh!!”… he’d pushed a stool with his shin. Ran his hand into his left pocket where h usually kept his phone… nothing! He’d left it at the table.

Tired from failed attempts at creating a proper line of words for the campaign his ad agency was working on, he traced his steps to the couch, got to the back of it and guided himself to a sleeping position on it.

At 6:37a.m., a snake, a cobra, young cobra but still, a cobra, crawled its vampiric coolness up the couch to the heat enticing it.

PHCN still hadn’t restored power and Debola, snoring lightly, was sweaty all over. It’d been a windless night and the cobra was now on his shin.

Debola didn’t feel the coolness crawling up. His subconscious was too busy in a fantasy that was about to end, evident in the erection. Actually it was the khaki pants he wore to sleep that kept the cobra’s move towards the kill unnoticed.

The cobra now was at the left pocket. The heat emitting from close by was too distracting. The cobra usually bit at the wrist of victims but Debola may be an exception.

It’s upper body rose gloriously. Fangs, thin, fragile looking yet poison laden fangs began to reveal themselves just as its neck widened… *fart*

Debola let it go, for four seconds. His pants soiled at that moment. He felt better without even knowing it.

The cobra had put out its tongue, and caught the gaseous commotion going on. “Not today” it hissed as it slipped down the couch and away.

Debola woke moments after, 6:51a.m. Got into rush mode soon as he realised the time. Traffic on 3rd Mainland was inevitable but still he hurried his preparation for another working day.

At 7:20, he stepped out of his ground floor apartment and stopped for a moment to see the mai-guard put something thin with shiny skin into a polythene bag, “U de sell snake now Dauda?” to which the gateman replied with a laugh.

The question was an inside joke, Dauda was known to sell weird stuff. Maybe he’ll use the skin to make a fancy belt and sell Debola thought as he walked briskly to the point he’d find an okada that’ll get him to the BRT terminus.

On the contrary, Dauda was going to extract oil from the cobra, the young cobra and sell to his friend who made hair creams…

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