I saw a meme last week I still haven’t recovered from. It was of a very hot, curvaceous woman who looked like she only ended up on earth because she got lost on her way to heaven. It was captioned; “If babe like dis gets Ebola, see my broda, in dis life, somtin must kill a man!”.
It reminded me of times in the past where I’d been in similar positions. Like that moment when I entered the kitchen and the lightsoup was just there cooling down on the stove and the sexiest chicken parts were just islanding and flaunting their tender deliciousness and I heard mum laughing on the phone outside, about to wrap up the conversation and I said to myself “See my broda, in this life, something must burn a man’s hands.” Or that time when I returned from town, thirstier than a humpless camel and there’s a chilled coke in the fridge I knew belonged to by brother. I started off with a gulp and diluted it a little, but the chilled fizzy sensation just worked me and I was like “See my broda, in this life, your brother must fight with you at least once.”
Or that time in Presec when I fell head-over-heels in love with that AGISS hottie, who had no idea she was my senior. She found out from some disloyal cooler kid who was my senior. She fell for him rather, but not before I wrote her some three-paged love letter (poem included) on some ugly paper I thought was cool at the time. She never replied. As I licked my wounds in recovery I was like “See my broda, in this life, you must have a story to tell your son some day.”
It’s funny and all but it reveals something very true; when we come face to face with our Achille’s heel, our kryptonite, our customized Jezebel, our Unique Sinful Proposition, we become capable of reasoning the utmost stupidity. I guess that’s why the Bible didn’t say “Show sin what you got” or “Reason it out with it”. Good Book says flee! Anytime we start reasoning along ‘See my broda…’ lines, then we’re on the fast lane to discovering why flee was used and not interact.
The more intelligent we are, the more bleak the situation is, because the intellect you impress everyone with is the same one that will impress stupidity on you. We shouldn’t trust ourselves around ourselves o. We shouldn’t be too eager to find out if really really Medusa’s gaze can turn us to stone (Ask Lot’s wife). We shouldn’t want to so desperately find out how the laasst stage of sobriety feels like before drunken stupor sets in. Who are you, eh? You alone, ￼you think you can swim with meat in frying pan and not fry. Or you can watch porn aaah and not evolve your wondering into wandering. Oo camooonnn, staalpp it!
You think when Joseph fled from Potiphar’s wife it was because she had eczema or stretch marks on her skin? Or he found out that the fairness of her face was in sharp contrast to the coffee complexion of her knuckles and stomach? Nooo! It was a desperate flight from a ‘My broda, let me tell you somtin” speech. You cant take just one shot; it’s drink deep or taste not. But it’s wisdom to not even consider tasting.
So fam, let me tell you somtin, in this post, something must tell you to never rely on your own strength and morality. Rely on God for grace and on your feet for speed, because when you stand there aaahh till that somtin is looking you in the eye, touching itself, licking itself and moaning like a Persian cat, I swear dzown, that tin will kill you sha!