Sunday and I were just hired labours. I was the better looking guy, though he was more muscular and macho in outlook, but that shouldn’t make the ladies like him better than me. Sunday was my closest pal, but I dislike him now for his slothfulness. He wasn’t really any lazier than I was, but he was wont to forego work for play when the girls are around.

There was this particular incidence that made me want to kill Sunday: the ladies were paying the idiot more attention than they were paying me. Sunday and I have been assigned to the shitty task of mixing manure with top soil, along with two farm-hand girls whose task was stuffing the mixture into nursery bags and planting in the oil palm seedlings. On that day, Sunday abandoned our joint-task of shoveling shit and went frolicking with the girls, giving them a hand with their own task of stuffing the nursery bags with mixture of dirt-manure, and poking a hole in top middle end of the stuffed bag and planting-in a palm seedling. It was a relatively easier task than mixing manure. I wouldn’t have given a fuck if the fucking sluggards were fucking on the job, but I was peeved because Shadya, one of the girls who I had been secretly admiring, was paying Sunday far too much attention for my convenience and peace of mind.

Shadya was delibrately letting her skirt ride up her thighs to let my Lazy-ass friend feed his lusty eyes on whatever she got between the thighs. The annoying part was that Sunday was not looking away as expected of a gentleman; he was ogling and sloberring and pissing me the fuck off. He wasn’t even doing a good job of stuffing the nursery bags with the manure and dirt I was labourously throwing their way. He was absent-mindedly poking, and poking, and forever poking his forefinger into a nursery bag like an automaton, and drooling like a damn bulldog panting for a cur.

The other girl, Ekaete, was ceaselessly talking some nonsensical things that must have sounded very sweet to Sunday, making him poke faster and faster. I was mad- red-hot-mad. So hot I could have blown a fuse at all that drama unfolding in front of me.

Each time I straightened up from the back-breaking task of shovelling crap, to look their way, Ekaete would stop talking, and Shadya would let the helm of her skirt drop to her knees. Each time this occurred, (and it was very frequently) I got angrier, I got madder and I got hotter- I was murderously peeved. I could have chopped off the heads of all three of the slothful bastards with one swing of my shovel. I would’ve taken off Sunday’s head first; then Shadya’s, saving Ekaete’s last. I would have spat down Ekaete’s throat, stuffed manure into Sunday’s throat and jack off on Shadya’s bloody throat.
In my mind I had dared Shadya to annoy me just one more time by dropping her skirt on my view and they will all feel the heat of my wrath. I was just straightening up from the shitty task to try and catch a glimpse of what viewing pleasure Shadya was denying me and indulging my stupid friend Sunday, when Mr Ogunlade, the Farm overseer suddenly appeared and barked at me: “get to work, you fucking sluggard…”. Then I saw that the Monster tractor driven by the Ogre Mr Tambolo had brought in more Manure, and was already unloading the shit onto the unfinished heap I had been working on, and I was already neck-deep in the stinking shit.

At the end of that day, I got half the regular wage, because I did not meet my target of shoveling and mixing enough manure. Sunday and the girls got full pay. I have still not forgiven my friend Sunday till this day. I have forgotten about Shadya, because I hated her after that incidence. As for Ekaete, well I don’t really care for her even though she was made my overseer.

Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.


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