by Sagay Agbalaya

Was it DMX who said guns don’t kill people but people do? That guy is a liar! Why should I trust DMX sef? Most rappers are always on drugs anyway. I almost died looking into the barrel of the gun that was pointed at me.

 

It was lust at first sight as she walked into the banking hall of the new generation bank at Area 2, Garki. She moved towards the cashier to my left and my eyes instinctively followed her. The moment she had her back at me, a butterfly perched on the dimples just above her butt cheeks invited me. I knew there was no going back, I must get her.

I wasn’t too sure who was more creative. Was it the tattoo designer who brought to life a butterfly atop the babe’s buttocks – considering the fact that butterflies now appear to be endangered? Or was it the designer of the low-waist jean trousers who created a template to ensure men could see whatever the wearer wanted to be displayed?

 

My eye contact with the butterfly, or was it her buttocks itself, must have communicated something to her because she turned back to give me that look-as-much-as-you-want-your-hand-ain’t-touching-it look. My wink at her was a reflex.

She pulled her top down to cover the butterfly but I wondered what for? The insect wasn’t stationed there so that she would look at it herself; it must have been for men who missed playing with insects. So why cover it?

“Booooom!” came a loud noise from behind me and the security door at the entrance of the banking hall came down. Someone must have thrown a grenade.

“Everybody, lie down on the floor!” shouted a man dressed in a black suit jacket, blue jeans and shoes that were apparently Jimmy Choo. I would have ignored his order because I ordinarily don’t like to be bossed around, but he carried a gun that looked like an AK 47 – that made him the boss. I acted like a reasonable man; I the joined others on the floor.

Any man who argues with a man holding a gun needs help, serious help; unless he already feels suicidal. Not even jazz should make you dare a man who carries an AK47.

Three other guys dressed in shirts and jeans, who were already in the banking hall before the explosion occurred, ran to meet the man in the black suit and retrieved their own guns from a bag the man brought. Gun shots sounded from outside the banking hall and it appeared they had professional colleagues outside, trying to scare people away from the premises.

It was a subtle way of warning people not to delve into matters that didn’t concern them. Who would come inside to ask what was happening anyway, apart from Police who were paid to do so. I personally did not expect them. All it took Aluu residents to scare our Friends In Black (FIB) away while the Uniport students were murdered were stones; only a fool would expect them to now face men with some sophisticated weapons.

The bank manager was slow to hit the floor as instructed and he was chastised. One of the robbers hit his head with the butt of a gun that looked so much like what those SSS guys carry.

My heart cut. My trouser was wet.

After about five minutes of orders and shouts, some part of my senses returned. I had with me a sum of N350,000.00 which I wanted to pay into my account before the big boys arrived. I had just started filing the deposit slip when butterfly walked in and that was the last thing I did.

It was certain the robbers were going to take the money from me but I felt that was unfair. If only I had paid the money to the bank cashier, my account would have been credited in that amount and it would have been the Bank’s business to think about the loss.

“Oya, everybody bring out the money wey dey your body. Just put am for your front” shouted the guy in black suit. Two of his professional colleagues led the bank manager and another officer of the bank to the vault.

The cashier who was about to attend to me before the big bang had been dragged out of his cubicle by one of the robbers. He was lying somewhere close to me.

“Bros, please can you just receive my money and credit my account?” I whispered to the cashier.

“Are you okay at all?” The cashier responded.

“What do you mean? Why are you this wicked? I’m sure you guys have some insurance cover to recover whatever these guys steal from you. I don’t have such cover. Why can’t you just cooperate?”

“Cooperate ko, Cooperative Bank ni” responded the guy who hissed at me.

I looked at my side and butterfly winked at me. On another occasion, I would have smiled at how life worked. Here was the ass that the babe tried to cover in order to deprive me of the sight of my favourite insect. It was all open and men were staring at it, but it was the least of her troubles. She was scared.

Away from butterfly, I was determined not to lose the 350k and I was ready to do anything to achieve this.

I raised my head to look at the faces of the robbers and I found one of them whose face appeared to be calm. I was sure he was the only one not on weed – I didn’t need a Weedometre to determine that.

I raised my hand to call his attention.

“Hello uncle” I said with a trembling voice.

The idiot responded to my calling him an uncle though we appeared to be in the same age bracket. I could even be older than him but for the funny looking gun he carried.

“Yes, wetin happen?” he responded

“Please sir, I was just about to pay in my money when you arrived sir. Can I quickly pay to this man sir, so that you collect it from him sir?”

“E be like say craze dey worry you. Wetin concern me say you wan pay money enter?”

Craze bawo?

The guy approached menacingly pointing his gun at me and I almost regretted talking to him.

Was it DMX who said guns don’t kill people but people do? That guy is a liar! Why should I trust DMX sef? Most rappers are always on drugs anyway. I almost died looking into the barrel of the gun that was pointed at me.

I wondered what his business was in the whole matter. Whether the cashier collected the money from me or not, they were going to go away with the same amount. Why wouldn’t the guy make at least one additional person happy in this whole issue. They were going to leave happy, no doubt – unless they were apprehended. Why wouldn’t they make me happy too since it was clear the Bank was going to lose money?

The idiots obviously didn’t go to school to learn the Utility theory of J.S Mill.

The guy in black suit, who appeared to be the leader of the gang, approached me at this point. When I looked up to see his face, I saw only one thing – Weed.

I didn’t know if I should be scared or happy.

If only weed smokers could bond. If only weed smokers could fraternize. If only weed smokers could identify with each other.

Maybe he patronized Sikiru too. Maybe he got his stuff at Oniru too.

I didn’t know if I could introduce myself as a weed smoker too because his face was blank.

Black suit smiled, and I was relieved.

Less than a second after that, he landed me a slap that brought down stars into the banking hall. It appeared I was the only one who saw the stars because they brought tears down my cheeks, only mine.

He raised his AK-47 at me and his fingers searched for the trigger.

My phone rang beside me and it appeared I was in a dream. I threw a punch at the idiot but my eyes opened before it landed.

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Sagay Agbalaya blogs from www.sagaysagay.com and tweets @SagaySagay

Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.