Life and General Fiction StoriesNaija Stories


I’ve always wanted my mom’s name to be Madea. Even before I was born I’ve always wanted a mama and a sister, but no papa. Some say I’m into the female gender more than I’m supposed, but who really would want a papa with face like the devil himself and a voice like an angel? (this kind of combination cannot be trusted in any way).

I also wanted my mama to have lots of flesh so that when I sucked out the juice from her nipple, I would have a lot of things to hold unto just for fun, but not big enough to be suffocated with. And as I grew up I realized that my mama had papa suck out all the juice in her and left me nothing not even a drop, so I took solace to a feeding bottle (just imagine a bottle being used to feed a baby). Guess what, nobody cared to ask me my choice or preference.

Now I’m grown—or so I think—and I’d wish I was a giant with a mighty feet and a coarse voice that all will hear and shriek, but why is it that anything that comes after my wish is a but?

I’m here, stuck to the ground (my only companion, ) and when I speak (even when angry), I sound like a soloist.
Sometimes I just stop wishing because the opposite of my wishes happen to me.

First my name is Madea, I have a papa, my mama has only nipples and I’m simple, brief and short.

Why not share?

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