A Crime Every Woman Commits IV
Isn't it high time I published another interesting edition of this very captivating topic? Even if the crime is bigger, taller than Mount Everest, it can, and will surely be cast out of our list of worries, ultimately, into the world of a memorable extinction. I am willing, ready to cooperate with words to realise your need: to know the crime, but...
But, my eagerness has just been smashed into pieces. I can hear someone scream, "This topic again?"
Why the scream? What is wrong or bad about the topic? Is it scary? Oh! It is a topic Bukola has refused to bless with the revelation of the crime? If this is what you are thinking, then you are thinking what I really think you are thinking. Hmmmn... The truth is, the thought is dangerous when it is deep; too much of everything, including thinking too much about what you ought not to be thinking at all is bad, especially on health grounds. Why don't you give your thought a seat, make it seat calmly, rest and follow me to a place where I cannot afford to travel to alone in this edition?
Whispers are saying that what today's episode has to offer is predictable. The conclusion is a product of common, outright misconceptions. No clock works well and counts time backwards, hence any guess purely based on a bygone experience is tantamount to a poor one. Let's think about today without any form of interference from the past.
But then, I am interested in discussing such guesses.
I read right here that Bukola has only come to show us she can use words to dribble, manipulate our eyes, psyche and score goals of suspense. She has come to make a promise she has made up her mind never to keep. She has come to tell us she cares for the health of readers who are hale and hearty, obviously not at the risk of suffering heart attacks. She has come to indirectly tell us there is a crime every woman commits she is too afraid to tell lest the ground opens up and swallows her. She has come to tell us she fears fellow women's negative reactions to any form of offensive revelation as every human dreads snakes. She has come to tell us she will be exposing the crime in a next publication that may never come.
Other guesses are as sweet as honey to my shocked ears. Bukola has come to tell us there is a crime but we are sure none exists. She has come to quote further provisions of a natural constitution drafted by who else but her and her fellows. We wonder how she quickly diagnosed high blood pressure in readers without an academic qualification or professional medical experience (She is a true quack), and she will still make the same mistake again (promise to tell the crime in a succeeding part, expect us to believe it), stun us with another piece in which we will get lost, try to find the crime in vain.
Oh! My God! All these complains about me? But why? Why are my honourable readers trying to make me think they are Doubting Thomases? Should I be afraid to make facts about life available to you? Should I be afraid to tell you my fears, worries, ponderings? Should I hesitate to admit observing negative changes in the blood pressure of some of you and do the needful (postpone the revelation until a later date)? "Must I study medicine to understand the fact that disaster looms the moment heartbeats become as loud as Public Address Systems and faster than Christian Coleman's fastest running speed?"
At this point, I am throwing a tantrum, catapulting it into the air with all my strength.
My mind was earlier made up to reveal the crime in this piece, but I have become very angry that some of my readers are not interpreting my gestures rightly, and will defer. I am annoyed to the extent of resolving never to tell the crime, but I will temper justice with mercy. I will reveal it in my next piece. Don't be a Doubting Thomas, believe me; my anger will vanish and be replaced with a lasting happiness; I will be highly encouraged to tell the world that only crime every woman commits.
Ah! You are still doubting me?
What else can I say? Ok! I know what to say! Keep a date with my next piece to affirm or refute your doubt. Hope you have beautiful moments ahead.
Writer: Bukola Olafenwa.
College: Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-ife, Nigeria.
Email: bukolaolafenwa@gmail.com.
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