RUSH-RUSH: CALM DOWN! (A SHORT NARRATIVE)

 

#pastorbiodunsoretire

Segun was at the dining table waiting for the meal. He was beginning to grow rather impatient. Every other thing was set on the table except the food itself. 

The spoon and the knife lay supinely on the table-mat to his right while their counterpart, the fork, lay low in preparation for action on the left. The sweating bottled water fizzled at the top beside a scrupulously clean glass. Even the toothpicks were stacked in their container like Joseph's standing sheaves. But the food was missing.

After five more minutes the food finally arrived. 

It was rice and stew garnished with a lot of beef. No sooner was it placed than Segun grabbed the spoon and buried it into the profusely steaming rice. Though the eyes were suggesting the food was very hot, his stomach would not want to wait a second longer. In no time a spoonful of the rice landed on his tongue and all hell was let loose. 

His mouth danced wildly and his tongue recklessly. It was uneasiness all over. Quickly, his lips made an O-vent in-between them to suck in air continuously. The bloated grains knocked about in his buccal cavity for some time before their eventual cooling off to make the onward journey to the gullet. But not without leaving a permanent mark in the cavity – a burnt tongue and a scathed palate.

As he nursed his wound, the old man, his server, came to the dining room and sat on the chair at the narrow edge of the table, opposite him. He gave him a stern look for a moment and then asked,

‘Your wound, whose fault? I that brought the food or you that took the food? Whose fault, Segun? Whose fault? Whose fault...'

Segun long closed eyes popped suddenly from the REM and alarm was written all over him in his reclined position on the three-seater. He stealthily arose and got his mind stormed with the dream and its obvious interpretation. Impatience kept jingling his upstairs bells. No doubt he had been impatient in many things.

‘Old man, the fault's mine, not yours. It's mine!'

The clouds gathered in his eyes and when fully loaded, another round of showers was delivered on his laps. 

The swelling emotions tugged his legs and straightway he fell on his knees to weep in the bosom of his Lord. He cried passionately for mercy. 

And how he found peace with his maker!

(Culled from More Haste by Abiodun Soretire)