SMITHEREENS OF DEATH 24 Within An Inch Of Heaven

The driver had just turned the key in the ignition when a man rose at the back of the bus with a revving 'Prrrrrrrrr-aisedaLohd!'
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In response, somebody laid out a good, deep fart — this blessed fellow was kind enough to spread it, with practised flourish, over a quarter of a minute, in measured detonations.

'The Lord is good,' a madman cracked. 'All the time!' a few high-spirited ones chorused; while others contributed evil chuckles to the occasion.

Undeterred by the stink that had now possessed the entire bus like an evil spirit, a murmur that had to be either curses or Pentecostal tongues tumbled from the preacher's tight mouth, spilling into the bush of his big biblical beard and disappearing. . . He rifled through his burden of a bible — 'In the book of Jedidiah, my bible tells me that —'

A quick mouth told him something else, 'Book of Jedi-daya nor dey my own bible sah.'

'Your own bible.' The preacher looked up from his bible, and down at the offender. 'You have a bible there?'

The reply was a wave of 'Lolly', a local p.o.r.nographic comicrag, which was greeted with approving guffaws.

Just as our preaching friend broke into a 'Blessed is the man that —', another man, determined to seek his own blessings by less tedious means, rose at the front and began handing out worn brown envelopes that read: NIGERIA SOCIETY OF DEAF & DUMBS. I NEED YOUR HELP.

Envelopes, quickly filled with 'help', were pa.s.sed back into the deaf mute's glad hands.

Seeing the enthusiastic response to this sudden crafty truncation of his ministry by this usurper, the preacher, filled with righteous indignation that he had been beaten to his destination by a mere deaf mute, went up to the grinning man and seized him by the arm, bellowing into the brick wall of his face — 'Stop! Thou shall not deceive the people of the Lord!'

The people of the Lord stopped, and waited.

Incomprehension stood on the deaf mute's face.

'I say, hear what the Lord says! He says, Let those that have ears hear.' That excluded the poor deaf man and, as if he could tell, he returned to retrieving his envelopes.

Seizing him by the arm again, the preacher s.n.a.t.c.hed his purse and emptied it out of a window — the envelopes flew out in a burst of flapping wings, lips opening and spewing naira notes that chased the speeding bus for a second before floating behind, and dropping off. . .

Watching his hard-earned cash flail about helplessly outside, the deaf mute let out a great, heartfelt wail of agony, followed by, 'G.o.d don punish yaw mama today!'

Torn, for a second, between the deaf mute that had conned them and the crazy preacher who had flung their money to the wind, the pa.s.sengers were trying to decide which of the two deserved the urgent fury of their fists and feet.

But the previously deaf mute quickly solved their dilemma — he pounced on the man of G.o.d and beat the devil out of him, beat him into the ground and off the bus, beat him to within an inch of heaven . . .

The people just watched, and marvelled at the mysterious ways in which the G.o.d of Lagos worked.