Snake in the Pot

I initially wrote this humorous story when I was 11. This is just an intellectually superior  modification of it. This is the first chapter of the whole story. I hope you enjoy it :)
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Owodu village is a land of prosperity and agricultural prolificacy. It is the second richest village among the seven villages that make up the Owo kingdom.
The village of Owodu is prominent for its preternaturally portly cattle. In this land of green - it is called he land of green because of the pure green grass that spreads across the whole village - an average cow weighs six sacks of rock. This is fascinating because in the other villages, an average cow weighs just two sacks of rock.
It is no wonder that the owners of these animals are all wealthy. Just the sale of one of the cows is enough to reap huge profits.

However, let us not get side-tracked by these wonderfully plump creatures, which would look so mouth watering on a flat wooden plate; already grilled and ready to be masticated by eager teeth awaited by the tongue to slobber all over it and feel it's gravy splattered flavor. To caress its fleshy features with all fervency induced by the sight of its lip-smacking beauty.

...let us not get side-tracked, again.

Within this village, there stands a building. This building is regarded as the palace of the king - who must be referred to as the Igwe. In front of this grand palace is a stone effigy of the Igwe - a sight which must be gazed at with mesmerization.

From the firm muscular limbs to the visibly well-built emerged abdominal muscles standing below large chests of the finest quality. The statue's head is finely shaped and portrays a handsome young man laced with the facial expression of one who has all the wisdom in the world.

Now for the real spectacle, we go into the palace to see the king himself. Walking through the majestic hallway, one can only pause occasionally to view the many portraits of past Igwes which hang on the walls. These paintings were created by only the finest painters of the kingdom. This is the reason why all of the paintings are magnificently detailed and impeccable.
However, as one reaches the last portraits in the hall, one cannot but notice the diminishing of handsomeness of the Igwes in the paintings. The more one advances, the more the kings become uglier.

Now we arrive at the royal council room where the Igwe and the six Chiefs come to discuss matters of the utmost importance. This is the place where decisions are made for the good of the village.
I cannot help but notice the sight I behold, which is in disparity with the sculpture we saw outside the palace. Instead of the handsome, muscular and well-built man that the sculpture portrayed, I see a thin, almost sickly, ugly man sitting on the throne which belongs to the Igwe of Owodu. In fact, this is the ugliest man I have ever seen in my entire life.
However, he is still the Igwe; and he deserves to be treated and thought about with respect.
Is that a mole beside his lower lip?
Oh, right, respect...respect.

Luck is with us; the council has gathered once again to discuss matters of high magnitude. Let us eavesdrop a little, to hear what the leaders of Owodu are deliberating.

"Oro, how can you say that? eh? How can you say that the men who are married to women with big buttocks should pay higher taxes?"

"Yes! That is how it should be. Buttocks have always been a fancy of men of this village. It is also a known fact that big buttocks bring good luck to families and the village at large. So this means that men who have wives with big behinds would be wealthier than those who have wives with small buttocks"

A burst of murmurs made up of rebukes and acquiesces fill the council room.

Finally, the Igwe clears his throat. The whole room instantly becomes silent; for when the Igwe clears his throat, no one dares to speak.

"My chiefs, I have listened carefully to what you have argued. I think of it as a very good idea which will be beneficial to the growth of our economy. Women with bigger breasts should-"

"Buttocks Igwe...we are speaking about buttocks" Corrected Chief Obu.

"Oh yes, buttocks. I think the size of a woman's buttocks should determine how much her husband pays as tax"

All the Chiefs instantaneously rise to their feet when the end of the Igwe’s monologue was apparent.

“Your word is law, Igwe” They say with synchronization of an almost melodious tune. They take their seat after this action.

We have just seen a spectacle that very few people get to witness – the creation of a law. This is only an exemplar of the kinds of society-building oriented decisions being deliberated within the confines of the royal council room, once a week.

Suddenly, a large woman bursts into the room. She gripped her wrapper to prevent it from falling off while she scuttled in a most ungraceful manner. The extra fat that mustered behind her arms keep flapping up and down with every step taken by her fat legs.

The clothes worn by this woman, bears unique embroidery and adorned with fine accessories that only the Igwe’s wives wear. This strange pig-resembling woman is obviously one off the King’s thirty-seven wives – each called ‘Lolo’.

One may think that having 37 wives is excessive. But there would be a change of mind if one knows that this Igwe has the lowest number of wives in the history of royalty in the village of Owodu. It is no wonder the man is emaciated. How can one try to maintain such number of wives without draining himself of body nutrients and sufficient replenishment?

We go back to the current situation.

“What is wrong with you woman?” The Igwe yells in rage, “Can’t you see that I am in a council meeting?”

“My King, my King oh!” The woman bellows as she falls to the floor, at the foot of the King’s throne. The awfully round woman gasps for air, as she has obviously run a great distance.

“Why are you so wheezing like this? Where did you run from?” asks the Igwe.

“Igwe, I rode down here in a royal caravan from the royal household quarters”

“If you rode in a caravan, then why are you panting like a dog that has just run a kilometer without rest?”

“Ah my King, I had to run from the entrance of the palace to this place. It is not an easy feat”

Okay, I do not pity the lolo for her tiredness; I pity her because a person who thinks running half a mile is strenuous needs to sit down and think about her life. For God’s sake, she looks like a beaver soaked in water. I am sure that the council room is now slippery from the sweat dripping from her cow-like body.

The Igwe hisses and shrugs his shoulders in irascibility.

“Then what is so important that made you turn the floor of my council room into a river of salty perspiration?”

“My King, there is trouble. There is fire on the mountain; there is a snake in the pot; there is-“

“Is that a problem at all?” interrupts the King. “If there is fire on Ogede mountain, then the fire watchers will take care of it. Besides, I don’t see how a fire on the mountain can harm us; for it is far away from the village. As for the snake in the pot, what you should do is to fill the pot with water and put it on fire. When the water begins to boil, you should cut some pepper, tomato, onion and leaves into the pot. Make sure you don’t put too much curry or else the texture of the meat will lose its delicacy. At the end of it all, you will be left with a delicious meal of snake pepper soup”

All this while, everyone had a quizzical look on their faces. They obviously thought of how stupid the Igwe is…respect, respect.

“Igwe, I think what your wife means is that there is a massive problem. I think the mountain on fire, and the potted snake, are just figures of speech” Chief Obu corrects.

“Who are you to tell me what my wife means to say?” The Igwe says.

“Actually my King, Chief Obu is right” The Lolo defends.

“Oh, then what is the actual problem?” The Igwe asks, in a tone slightly smeared with shame at his humiliation.

“My King, your son, the Prince, has not recovered from the illness which struck him yesterday. In fact, his condition has worsened”

“And what has the medicine man said about it?” The King inquires.

“He says there is nothing he can do; and that there is a spiritual force thwarting the effects of his medicines”

“Hmm, spiritual force right? Then this means the Chief Priest has to be summoned” the Igwe says, “Chibuzor!” The Igwe calls out for the royal messenger.

“Igwe” The athletic young man responds. He had been where he always is whenever the meeting went on – standing behind the Igwe’s throne.

“How did you get here so fast?” queries the Igwe with a puzzled look on his face.

“Your Highness, I have always been behind you in this room” replies the messenger.

“Always?” Asks the Igwe

“Yes, your Highness, always” The man confirms.

“Oh yes, well, take the summoning staff and show it to the Chief Priest, so he may come immediately and resolve the problem at hand”

“Yes your Highness” The messenger acquiesces. In a second, the young man was is out of the palace; running at such extraordinary speed.

“You are all dismissed. You will be sent for once the Chief Priest arrives” The Igwe declares.

“Igwe” the word is voiced out by everyone in the room.

Soon, everyone except the King is out of the palace. The King heaves a sigh of relief and then exudes a series of loud gruffly farts from the royal buttocks.

“Finally!” The King exclaims. Suddenly, the King’s eyes brighten as if he has just made an important realization. He stretches his neck over the throne, obviously to see if there was anyone there. He is completely alone.

The King was apparently thinking of how many times the royal messenger stood quietly behind his throne, listening the reverberations made by the royal farts. All this time he assumed he was alone; there was always someone with him in the room.

Gateway to the Supernatural (2)

Read the first part here: Gateway to the Supernatural (1)

The third day since my experiment with DMT. I was beginning to think that what I experienced whilst under the influence of the drug was more than just a hallucination.

For three days I had been hearing strange noises in my home, objects moved without any apparent force responsible for their movement, and I had the uncanny feeling that I was never alone. It was like an invisible entity was always close to me...always watching me.
The previous day, Professor Mclurkin came to my home to discuss his latest findings. We went into the library and what did we find? All my books were scattered all over the floor. Everything was a mess!
I had to take the Professor somewhere else. I'm sure he thought I'm an untidy man. But who could have done that? There was no one home except me at that time.
Furthermore, every morning when I woke up from sleep, i found myself on the floor, blocks away from the bed on which I was sure I had lain on the previous night.

Of course these could be after effects of the drug...but assumptions must not be made. I have studied my body mechanisms and processes  before and after I injected the substance into my system. Everything is as normal as ever. My pulse is regular, my temperature is normal and there existed no sign of abnormality in my excreta.

What was I experiencing? What did I miss? Am I going mad? But according to the tests, my brain was not perturbed when the drug wore off. So I couldn't be going mad.
Then an unethical thought came to me. What if the hallucination of my brother that I saw, was actually him? The man did tell me he would try to get me to believe and make my life miserable, did he not? And now all this was happening to me. Even the wound on my knee which I acquired whilst hallucinating, still hurt. I studied closely the metal that was used by the hallucination to inflict the injury. It had my blood on it! It really was used to hit me.

I ruminated over this for a long time until I finally came to a decision. I must take the drug once again! It sounded irrational, but my scientific instinct told me that somehow, the answer lies within another dose of the drug.

I prepared the dosage of 20 ml once again. However, this time I sat on the metal automatic secure chair which would strap me firmly onto the chair once the injection was made.
Immediately I injected the content of the syringe into my system, I pushed the button on the remote and the metal belts fastened my arms to the arm rest, and my legs to the two front legs of the chair. I then flung the remote as far as I could.

I opened my eyes and could not move my neck for a few seconds.

"You're back. I told you I'd make you believe" The voice I heard three days ago was now audible once more. I raised my head in the direction of the sound, and I saw Brian leaning on the wall a few blocks away from me.

"I do not believe yet. I only want to test a theory that would prove once and for all if all this is true or just a psychologically visual fallacy"

"psycho what?"

"hallucination"

"Oooh, all right then, what's this theory you have?"

I was about to respond when I heard loud noises emanating from the storage room. I was bewildered. I had fastened the only door that served as the entrance to the laboratory. I was sure that the code lock was activated, and that no one was in the storage room when I entered the lab.

"Spike! Get out of there. Didn't I tell you I'm the only one who messes with May's stuff?" Brian yelled out to, obviously to the being that was inside my padlocked storage room.
A dog-like creature walked out from the room. It walked through the door!

"How did it do that? And what the hell is that thing?!"

"That's my pet howler. His name's Spike" Brian patted the dog on its head while he spoke. It was a rather peculiar dog. Having a well built body covered with rusty red fur. Its illumed red eyes shone as though they were small electric bulbs.

"This whole thing becomes more unbelievable by the minute" I said. "But all the same, I still have to test my theory"

"Uhuh, back to the theory thingy" The distracted Brian said.

"I know for sure that I'm strapped to this chair without any means to get off without pushing the button on the remote lying over there beyond my reach. If you're a hallucination and you push the button, I would really not be free, although the drug might cause me to visualize it. When the effects of the drug wears off, I would find myself still trapped on this chair. However, if you are a reality, and the button is pushed by you, I would be free both forthwith and after the drug wears off. I have timed the chair to unfasten automatically in two hours, just in case you turn out to me a mendacity."

I had been talking all this while and the idiotic man was playing with his pet.

"Brian!"

"Um sorry, could you repeat it? I wasn't listening"

I got infuriated by this statement. I soon calmed down when I realized that time was running out.

"Just push the damn button on the remote over there!" This was the best summary of the long speech I could excavate.

Brian picked the remote off the floor and pushed the unfasten button. The metal belts that held me were immediately unfastened.

"Now, I just have to wait for the drug to wear off so I can  ratify to all of this"

"When you find out that I'm real and that the supernatural realm is real, what will you do?"

"It'll be a breakthrough in science! I can only imagine-"

"No no no no no!" Brian interrupted. "The proven existence of the supernatural realm is and can only be known be a few humans"

"But why?"

"Because if all humans knew the powers and forces that exist within my realm, then the realm wars would happen again"

"The realm wars?"

"Ah yes, it's a great story about a great time that great beings from both worlds fought a great battle...that's how my trainer says it"

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"There's no time to explain it to you now, you'll pass out any minute now. But I want you to learn how to use the little spirit molecule produced within your body to see the supernatural realm. That way, you won't have to keep stabbing yourself with those large needles"

"But how?" I asked faintly. The dizziness was creeping in slowly. I knew I was about to pass out.

"Madame Lavigne will teach you"

I could not reply. Everything began to blur out until darkness was all I could see.

I woke up on the floor, just like the last time. I gazed at the chair in which i sat before the experiment. I stood up and went to the door of the storage room. I unlocked it and found the whole place in a mess.
It seemed DMT does not cause hallucinations; it merely opens an individual to the supernatural.

I exited my lab and walked to my library where I usually sat to ponder over my troubles. When I walked past the sitting room, I heard a familiar word. A word i had recently just heard. I took some steps backward and saw the television turned on. A commercial for psychic reading was running. But what did I hear that drew me back?

"For professional psychic readings, visit Madam Lavigne now!"

Gateway to the Supernatural

After assessing and studying all the primary data about the substance that I could procure, I was ready to try it on myself. The psychedelic substance known as dimethyltryptamine is the most illegal substance in the world. It is also known as the 'spirit molecule'; allegedly being able to open the senses of an individual to the realm of the supernatural.
Although I knew that the drug induces severe hallucinations, I was unsure of it's true capabilities; of what I would experience...of what I would see. But science is about risks is it not?

I prepared a dosage of 20 ml, which is considered average. I gazed at the syringe for a long time. The green liquid was slowly pervading inside the syringe. It was as if it the liquid moved on its own. It seemed to be alive. What was I saying? I haven't even injected myself and I'm already speaking nonsense.
Five, four, three, two, one...

I opened my eyes to see myself lying on the floor in the corner of my laboratory, facing the wall.
What happened? Did I faint? Why don't I remember anything that happened?
I glanced at my wristwatch and saw that it had only been twelve seconds since I injected myself. I could not understand what was happening.

I heard a half muffled voice behind me. Impossible! Nobody could have gotten into my laboratory; nobody knew about my laboratory!
 I heard the voice again; this time clearer. It sounded familiar.
The voice said my name. The person called out my name the way he used to when he was...with me.
A sudden paralyzing chill went through my body. Could it be? Impossible!

"Brian!" I yelled out in shock. I could not believe that my brother, who died two years ago was standing a few yards in front of me. He looked just as grumpy as he did when he was alive. His face had those little wrinkles and soggy colour that marked his early transition into the old age of forty. He was wearing loose white shorts and a loose white shirt. This looked unusual because Brian always wore leather jeans and a T-shirt. What was I saying, the whole thing looked unusual.
I wondered how the drug could create such a vivid hallucination of my late brother.

"Fascinating. The hallucination seems vivid"

He stood there in silence once more and then, he burst into laughter. The same loud annoying laughter usually heard years ago when Brian was alive. I sat there on the floor, perplexed by the hallucination's unjustified cachinnation.

"May, you're not hallucinating. This is real"

"Intriguing. The hallucination creates its own verbal persuasive response" I was more intrigued at how the hallucination called me 'May', which is the girly name my annoying elder brother used to call me.

"I'm serious. I'm really here. I can prove it to you"

I stood there staring at the hallucination while it approached me.

"It's amazing how the drug uses my brain- OUCH!"

The hallucination hit my knee with an iron rod! I was in pain when I realized that I was not supposed to feel the pain. Or was the pain another hallucination? No, it was too painful to be a hallucination. I tried to convince myself that the pain wasn't real...it didn't work.
I kept holding my knee while jumping up and down around the lab. Even as my imagination, my bother was still able to inflict pain upon me. He kept on laughing and pointing at me.

Finally the pain subsided. I was able to think straight again.

"I told you I'm real"

"But that cannot be. The laws don't allow-"

"May, the supernatural realm doesn't work on the scientific laws of the human realm" The man cut in.

"Supernatural? That is all mumbo jumbo!"

"What else do I have to do to make you believe? I could grab that electrocution device-"

"NO!" I yelled, not wanting to take any more chances. But then I thought, if it was not real, how could the hallucination have held the rod to hit me?

"All right May, since you don't want to believe, I'll make you believe even when the spirit molecule wears off"

"That is not possible"

"Hey, May, leave impossibility to be handled by me okay? Just beware that in trying to get you to believe, I will be making your life miserable. As your senses have been opened to the supernatural realm, the supernatural realm will  continue to be open to you"

As this was said, I began to feel dizzy. Everything abruptly became blurry and inconsistent. I lost consciousness afterwards.
I found myself lying on the floor again. I stood up and found everything in its rightful place. I took one stop forward and almost fell. My knee was wounded!