They say revenge is best served cold but clearly, Aunty O gives no regard to the temperature at which some dishes are finely served.
I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone that her cheeks and ass are factory fitted but she doesn’t believe me. So, she had me set up.
It should be noted, that Aunty O says it’s all in my head. But the circumstances that led to me being painted in gold paint, hands stuck to my side while standing right under the sun as a life-sized statue is extremely fishy.
And I really don’t blame her. I blame Aunty Claudette for my current predicament.
You see, Aunty Claudette had me convinced that selling the Aunty O story would get me in the limelight.
I don’t know how, considering it’s not my ass and cheek in question. But before I could do anything – not like I cared to stop her the money was mouth watering – Aunty Claudette had dangled the information before many media houses.
Problem is, she told them what information she had while talking prices. And because, of course, they’re smarter, they ran with the story without paying her.
I have promised myself to get a DNA test after this horrible phase of my life. There is no way I am related to Aunty Claudette by blood.
I sight her coming now. She’s holding a black nylon bag in one hand and stuffing puff puff in her mouth with the other.
I briefly wonder if she was cursed with puff puff/small chops. And I also wonder how my noisy Aunt , looking like a pack of crayons,stumbling across the red carpet, to a real life statuette of me can be more embarrassing to me standing under the sun as a statuette.
She adjusts her top green wrapper and the yellow gele on top of her head. She’s currently dressed in the Igbo attire because according to her; ‘Kulshure must be represented everywhere’. Even on red carpets.
Her eyes dart back and forth as if she’s ensuring she’s not being watched. Then in one quick move, she stuffs…
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