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THE REAL CINDERELLA STORY (Track Two)

Previously on THE REAL CINDERELLA STORY

*

Cinderella’s Udara Carriage was like fifteen minutes away from the Villa, when in the Ballroom, the President’s Abobaku looked at his watch. The party had been on for a little over an hour. In twenty minutes, he would signal the Chief of Staff, who would signal one of the undercover security men, who would signal one of the waiters standing by the door, that dinner was ready.

But before that happens, let’s go over to the other side of the huge ballroom, where the young Obong Chukwudi Oghenekevbe Pepple is standing, surrounded by a bevy of Brazilian-haired beauties, whose ages ranged from eighteen to grandmama. There were even a few pikins in their midst, camouflaging as adults. They were all trying to get and keep his attention. Shakitibobo boomed from several speakers discreetly concealed behind curtains that ran from the high ceiling to the floor.

“So, you’re the Amanyanabo, heir to the presidential throne,” said Drusilla, Cindy’s stepsister.

“Is it that obvious?” the bored prince asked.

The girl tittered and giggled and said, “Ohmagash. You’re so funny!”

Obong Chukwudi stared at her for one second and shook his head in disgust.

The other women laughed.

What else could be expected from a girl whose Facebook name was AlwaysPrettyAndSexyGurl?

“You’re so handsome. I’m sure you have many girlfriends. Right?” another asked.

He ignored her.

“I heard you have a power bike. I’ve got one too. Maybe we can race each other one of these days,” another remarked.

He looked up at the speaker, a striking young woman of indeterminate age, the kind that was EYY—Every Year Young. Her round ogbolo eyes were surrounded by a light fringe of dark, expensive Peruvian eyelashes. Her lips were painted an oxblood red, with a very costly Luby Wood lipstick in matte. Her flat nose said she was definitely of African origin, but her complexion told another story. Unknown to those standing around, the lady before them had once won Miss Ebony in a beauty pageant back when she was in the university, but was now quite Whitenicious.

“Yeah, I own several power bikes,” said Chukwudi. “I wouldn’t mind a race.” His eyes ran from her head to her toes, and he felt a frisson of attraction. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Olivia Dakwak, your Highness.”

The other women began to shoot daggers at Olivia left, right and centre. Unnoticed in the group, one of the younger women felt surreptitiously around her hip, touched the tiny wrap of love potion hidden in the waistband of her G-string and whispered a few words. Then taking a deep breath, she wiggled close to the Obong, tugged his arm and said, “Let’s dance.”

“No, thank you.”

The young lady reared back in flabbberghastment. Heu! She thought. It’s like this kopnomi is not working. She pressed the wrap at her waist a second time, carefully murmured the necessary words and tried again. This time, the man said a loud “No.”

Shior! Now frantic, she pressed and pressed the pouch. The prince noticed her actions and nodded to two undercover secret service men. They shouldered their way to her and jacked her up like a feather. As they carted her away, she noticed they were wearing X-PRee-Vent 500 bodysuits, the latest love potion blocking device. At that point, it became clear to her that the Obong was also probably wearing one.

Let’s skip the part where everyone in the room laughed as the JJC was being carried out. Did she not know that all measures were being taken to ensure that Oghenekevbe did not make a wrong choice? One, two, three, four – okay, more like forty, fifty of the women in the room suddenly had a need to visit the bathroom. Soon, the toilets were nearly blocked as each woman feigned urination, while secretly flushing down wraps and vials of love potions.

“FOOD IS READY O!” the loud voice of the Villa’s valet suddenly boomed from the wide doorway.

Everyone made their way to the Dining Room, where the food was served buffet style. The women jostled each other, trying to be near the Prince.

Outside, Cinderella’s carriage rolled to a stop. Except for the SSS, the entire Army, Navy, and Air Force and Police Force, the courtyard looked deserted.

“Hurry, Ma,” one of the SSS said, as she climbed out. When she raised her head, the man was flabberwhelmed for a few seconds. Then regaining his aplomb, he added, “They’re already going in for dinner.”

“Haba. What’s the rush? Haven’t they heard of Nigerian time? Shior!”

“Madam ko well o. We ko dey yeir dey wed for yu,” said her rats-turned-drivers.

“Thank you,” she said. Picking up the train of her gown, she hurried up the fifty steps to the main door, past men who gaped at her with open mouths and some, with instantly bulging trouser fronts. As soon as the doors opened, she dashed inside, barely acknowledging the stammered directions of the dazed sentry.

“Chai! Cindy, see what your lateness has caused!” she exclaimed as she stared at the long queue. How was she ever going to get a chance to talk to the prince? He would finish eating and the wife-choosing session would begin before she even had a chance to impress him.

“Godmother will kill me if I blow this chance. Me sef, I will kill myself”

She thought of jumping the queue, but decided to follow the ancient honourable way of Due Process. So she walked up to the man at the end of the line and asked, “Sir, please, are you the last on the line?”

“God forbid!” the man sputtered. “I am the first and not the last, in Jesus name!” When he turned to look at the girl that asked him the question, he very nearly swallowed his tongue. Speechless, he motioned for her to stand behind him.

Around them, people stared and stared. Cinderella pretended not to notice, but she was soaking it all in.

The line was sluggish. After eight minutes, Cindy was fed up.

“Sir, please, I’m behind you,” she said to the man who was the-first-and-not-the-last-in-Jesus-name. “I’ve seen someone I know in front; let me go and greet her. Please, colonise this space for me. I’ll be back,” she Schwarzeneggered.

The man nodded, still not recovered from the sight of her beauty.

As she went forward, the orchestra started playing All Eyes On Me. Indeed, nearly every eye followed her as she made her way to the front.

What you’re doing is wrong. Go back and join the queue, said her conscience.

“I can’t. If I stay there, I won’t meet him one-on-one,” she muttered. When her knees shook from fright, she stopped and almost turned back. But then, she remembered Fairy Godmother’s words.

My daughter, when you reach there, no look Uche face. Go forward and seize your Bae!

Taking a deep breath, she took a confident step towards His Junior Excellency, Prince Chukwudi Oghenekevbe Pepple III, who was now a mere three paces away.

Written by Eketi


About shakespeareanwalter

Walt Shakes(@Walt_Shakes) is an award-winning Nigerian writer, poet and veteran blogger. He is a lover of the written word. the faint whiff of nature, the flashing vista of movies, the warmth of companionship and the happy sound of laughter.

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14 comments

  1. “God forbid!” the man sputtered. “I am the first and not the last, in Jesus name!”
    ???????????? Chimooo!!! Eketi will not coman kill somebody.

  2. Lol, this is very entertaining. Keep it up.

  3. ??????????? I haf learnt new words today.

  4. ????????????????????????????

  5. Lol
    Its my first time here and I’m cracking up
    Very funny write up
    I’m glued

    • shakespeareanwalter

      Thanks for coming around. Do remain subscribed to MMS. There’s more here for your reading pleasure. 😀

  6. Cindy baby’s story always cracking me up

  7. Eketi, you are wonderful. I always try to make out time to read every one of your pieces.

    And Walter, thanks for bringing this to us.

  8. X Pree-Vent 500 bodysuits……Eketi of life…. Eketi the wonderment……. Eketi the last dramatic bender………continuuuu.

    I had a good laugh, though me sef too watch cartoon, be that ehn…..confusion hook me to know where this Cinderella setting be dey sef. 2016 or 1966? as Rolls Royce be dey described as carriage, I confusion a bit.

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