MOMMA'S STORY

 MOMMA'S STORY

His mother was my mother's best friend.

They did everything in common from gossiping and backbiting to calculating when their period cramps would fall through. The calendar dates was always marred with biro stains which I couldn't fathom what it was until much later in life. Momma was always speaking in whispers around her.

Momma told her everything.

She was more beautiful than Momma. I know this because she was always the yardstick for comparison. Momma looked up to her for validation and endorsement. Sometimes, she got clothes for Momma and those clothes looked like Momma was thrown into them, yet paint a picture to Momma. She wore them with glee and excitement. They did many other things together, but my mouth is heavy---- because I have seen her insert one of her index fingers into Momma's vagina.

"You are sweet, sweet woman" she gasped.

Momma was vibrating like the Nokia 3310. Possessed suddenly with serious demonic spirits, I think. She jerked from her touch. And made sounds like a dying cat. I cannot understand my Momma. I pretended to be sleeping because if I wake up.

I may die.

I know that woman will beat the "bejesus" out of my small body. I'm a wise boy, my teacher says I am the wisest in the class, just like King Solomon. I feign sleep and watch as plenty white something like pap comes out from Momma's vagina.

"Why is Momma screaming like a possessed animal!"
I cannot explaining it but I know what Vagina is. And Momma's vagina is bringing out something white like foam. She seem to be crying and happy at the same time. Our teacher said what a girl have under her leg is called that. Vagina makes Momma happy.

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Whenever she came around, Papa was always prancing about like a goat. He wore a flowing gown that fateful day, and seem to be hiding the injury between his legs. Bent with pain. Showing her something that I cannot see from my position.

Momma was asleep. And she is discussing with Papa and helping him with the pain located in his waist region. I see that Papa is relaxing more and making less sound. I cannot explain why she helps Papa and Momma do personal things.

Papa was always agitated when he saw her with Momma. Always screaming. He never openly identified with her but they were always together at that ungodly hour.

Papa never screams like Momma. He grunts like a pig.
She knows how to bring Papa to his knees, what Momma never did.

That fateful Saturday morning, Papa was well dressed and said nothing to me as he sauntered into his car and off into the stillness of the morn. Momma had stroke and fell facedown, after hearing the news of papa's engagement and betrothment to another woman.

She!--

I cannot understand it, She is crying profusely and touching Momma's lifeless body, I am looking on like a Zombie. Then I say to Momma. 'If your friend is a vulture, you must never die'----- She looking at me now like a lab rat or a goat. I know she hating me for saying things above my age. I am looking back at her but I am not understanding her look like she want to put her fragile hands on my small neck and snap the carotid artery till it disconnects.

Her eyes is red. Very red like bloodstains

"Momma ----Wake up" ---- I cried.

I am touching her and she is becoming cold like Ice. Papa is moving away. He is not feeling the pain.

I think Papa killed Momma.
Now 'she' is the new Momma!

We have a new Momma.