The first time papa said:

"Son, we’ve a serious talk,"

'Serious talk with papa' an afterthought came as I out-walk from the inner room to the sitting room, from there to the veranda.

I was in the mood of music with the piece in my ears making me go gaga like lady gaga. Papa was actually outside waiting for me as he glanced through The Punch Newspaper, he sat on a chair with his leg crossed viewing a vivid picture of some gang rapist.

"I’m here father."

I shouted as though I whispered due to the earpiece in my ears while I tried removing the pair.

"My son, My son, My son!"

Papa exclaimed knowingly to myself that it was time for him to profess.

"You need to comprehend and sought an afterthought to what I’m about telling you, these words of mine are not meant to be joked with, but it is like a clue, It will pave you the path to tread, the way it does to me because my father also did to me at this stage of yours, he told me then that those words should be my armor though I never really got it right then but it sunk into my medulla like submarines in water, I mean like music pieces passing through the earpiece."

Since the very first time I knew myself to be called a boy, Papa has been a professional word potter. He portrays his words just the very way a potter masters his own art of moulding, before what he enunciated becomes vivid though his words may be the watery type like liquid when it cools you and sauce the ears - a very realistic and stylistic piece. It took me a very long time before realizing the picture Papa was painting, having ending up in my present school of thoughts and state of living.

"Look at this picture closely."

He continued, pointing to the gang I saw earlier in the newspaper he was holding.

"They are fond of raping young lasses out there on the street."

Papa said with a very disappointing grimace surfacing his face.

"They are actually the no conscience beings having fun in someone else's pain. I won’t say the remaining part of the story because it doesn’t really matter to you this day, These people are the sons of Lucifer, don’t ever try to be like any of them, they’re the young evil stem that grows to be a calamity in the nation, Listen carefully to my witty words and be a better pikin, the true son of your father because you are from a better origin."

I wished Papa had told me the remaining parts that sunk into my hides now like tattoos.

By Williams A.Beloved

From: Nigeria

Website: http://www.whogohint.info

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