How I was stopped from becoming a millionaire overnight (2)

By Clem Oluwole

Suddenly, and in the middle of nowhere, I remembered that I was sent on an errand. I must have spent over three hours at the show and the old man’s tobacco-laden saliva must have dried up by then. I terminated the errand and returned home because my dad’s friend would have gone for his night shift job somewhere on the outskirts of Kumasi town. A lot of fantasies bombarded my mind as I gallivanted along, whistling the America wonder song.

I thought of how I would chew pieces of paper like a rat and churn out currency notes in millions. All I needed to do was to engage a full-time dentist who would be servicing my teeth every hour of the day. And rather than taking after my mentor who was a nomadic magician, I, as the conqueror of death, would station myself permanently at the mortuary of Kumasi General Hospital so that when cadavers were brought, they would be raised from the dead for a good fee. Of course, the corpse owners would pay before service. I swore to myself that there would be no credit facilities. The bereaved would be more than ready to pay anything (and cheerfully too) to bring back their beloved dead back to life. I might not even be able to cope. Perhaps I could employ my mentor as a partner, I had reasoned.

By the time I got back home, my dad was already fuming with anger. I told him I did not meet his friend at home and I had to wait for a long while only to be told much later that he left for work earlier than the usual time. As I walked along the corridor that led into our compound, one of the boys around obstructed my path. I kicked him hard in the arse and warned him never to show such disrespect again to a would-be millionaire. I got into the room and continued in my reverie. It was a bit dark inside. Then all of a sudden, I felt a heavy weight on me. Someone pounced on me and wrestled my small frame to the floor. I fought back with all my might, and wondered who for heaven’s sake, wanted to assassinate a would-be millionaire right in his father’s house? Had the wicked suddenly seen my star? But I was overwhelmed with shock when I discovered that the supposed assassin was my father himself. Why would he do that? Was it because of the failed errand?  It was when he started punctuating every punch and slap with an angry question or remark that I knew the cause of his rage. ‘So you want to be a magician? I sent you on an errand but you ended up at a magic show. You never-do-well kid!’

I quickly wriggled out of his grip and disappeared under his wooden bed. I would not allow him to kill me…the goose that would lay the golden eggs for the family. The bed was too low for him to come after me. Rather, he looked for a stick to poke me out. There was this wooden under the bed. I brought it between the stick and I. Frustrated, he left the room, livid with anger, locking the door behind him. I later discovered that one of our neighbors saw me while I was having a tete-a-tete with the magician after the show. After a while, I came out from hiding and made for the window. I gently unhooked it and squeezed myself to safety. I straightened the hook, and noiselessly pressed the window from outside. The hook dropped into the hole. I then found my way to the front of the house and sat in one corner. A few minutes later, my mum came back from the market. She sighted me and planted my favourite toffees in my palm, expecting me to follow her. I did not.

My dad narrated all that happened to my mum and told her that he had locked me inside after I took refuge under the bed. My mum then wondered whether the old man knew what he was talking about.

“Which Bisi is in the room and under the bed?” she asked him.

Bisi is the suffix of my middle name.

“Which Bisi do you know?” the man queried.

“But I just saw him in front of the compound and I even gave him his favorite toffees,” my mum further buttressed her argument. My dad then opened the door, flashed his torchlight under the bed and called me out but he got no response. He combed the room and checked the window which was hooked from inside. The duo exchanged curious look and wondered whether I had already acquired the talisman to disappear. Much later in the night, my mum called me in and pleaded with me to tell her how I vanished from the room. She promised me more toffees and after a little more persuasion, I reluctantly demystified myself by telling her how I escaped from the old man’s private cell. I also told her all that transpired between me and the magician. My mother was very worried and she did her best to talk me out of the infantile fantasy. Not only that. She made sure that I did not go out of her sight for the next seven days and seven nights, during which she over-pampered me to make me abandon the dangerous adventure. The magician must have been on the look-out for me the next day as agreed but I could not keep the appointment. And that was how my ambition to become an instant kid millionaire overnight was crushed… just like that!