#ShortStory: Beauty Salon.



It was a nice monday morning. Unlike other mondays when I don’t want to even stand up from my bed after a long weekend of flexing and more flexing, I was feeling particularly happy about this monday in question, the reason was simple, Latifah, my long term girlfriend had just left to stay at her friend’s place for a few days. So I was a free man, free to go after all those UNILAG girls that come to my shop to make their hair.

Latifah and I had a way we did our things. Whenever I offended her, she could bring down all hell on that spot but she always forgives me afterwards and for reasons I’m yet to know, she goes to stay with a friend for a few days before things get back to normal between us.

You see, Latifah is a really jealous lady and I’m not particularly the most faithful boyfriend, so you can only imagine how often we used to fight.

I can vividly recall our last quarrel that almost broke the camel’s back. It was a normal sunday night and in an attempt to be a good boyfriend, I had taken Latifah out to the club. At the beginning we were dancing happily until I got tired of her arse and decided to try out other asses, or isn’t that what people do in club nowadays?

I spotted this lonely chick dancing all by herself and without asking any questions, I slipped behind her and held her on her waist, she was probably too drunk to even complain, she started giving me what Latifah couldn’t.

Latifah watched us for a while and when she couldn’t take it anymore, she walked towards me and dragged me away holding me on my belt like a food seller who had just been told “I don’t have money to pay” by a customer.

Well, I felt so embarrassed but I some how kept my cool until she said, “why are all men dogs? You guys are never satisfied with what they have!”.

I’ve heard and read jokes where the girls say that and the guys reply, “what breed is your father?”. In most of those jokes, they never really tell us what happens next, and I’m the inquisitive type, so I decided to try it.

“If am a dog, what breed is your father?” I blurted, trying to hide my grin.

“What did you just say?” She asked, tightening the grip on my belt, I didn’t know she was just giving me a chance to save myself so I repeated myself. The summary of the story is the club scattered that day and for the first time ever, she threatened me.

“The next time you do anything like this, I’ll cut your dick,” were the words she used. Latifah never joked with her threats.

As usual, she left to stay with her friend for a few days once again.

Well, enough about Latifah, back to my wonderful monday.

I stood up from my bed grinning sheepishly, and thirty minutes later, I was already on my way to work. Just so you know, I’m the owner of that new small beauty salon at the back of Moremi hall in UNILAG, and yes! I’m a hair dresser, weird job indeed for a guy, but I love it anyway.

I was already standing at the front of my shop exactly one hour after I woke up. I unlocked the door and walked in.

When I say “my shop,” don’t go and picture a fancy big and luxurious building made of brick, tiles and glass because “my shop” is actually everything but fancy, big and luxurious. Its just an average size red container I bought from a retired ibo man and managed to pimp it up a little, thanks to Baba Friday who is the carpenter that lives in the same “face me I face you” compound as I.

I swept the shop and was already brushing a wig I intended to put on sale when my first customer for the day walked in.

“Hello,” she said to get my attention because I was fully concentrated at the highly tangled wig, before now, I didn’t think it was possible for a wig to as tangled as this.

I slowly looked up at her standing at the door post and behold, I saw the most curvy and beautiful female I’ve ever seen in all my twenty four years on this planet. For a moment, I thought she wasn’t human and even when I later found out she was a human, I still didn’t think she could do such an irritating thing as use a toilet. Yes! Judging from her looks, I would have sworn she had never stepped into the four walls of a toilet, or is it three wall, since one of the supposed wall is usually the door? Okay, this is irrelevant to my story.

Back to my story.

“He.. Hello,” I stuttered in response.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you but are you the one in charge here?” She asked with authority.

I was already getting back composure so I replied boldly, “Yes, I am. Do you want to make your hair?” I grinned.

“Wow,” she exclaimed looking surprised. I really don’t know what really made her surprised, maybe the fact that a male ran the shop or because of my cute looks *wink*.

“Surprised or you don’t think I can make your hair?” I asked, still shining my thirty one teeth, the dentist removed one some months ago because of a hole I had.

“Errr.. Yes… No.. I mean yes,” she stuttered. “The story about how good your are is all over campus and seen a couple of your works. I just didn’t expect you to be this…” She paused as if she was having a rethink on her choice of words, “this good looking,” she finally voiced out.

My cheeks instantly went pepper red, I wasn’t quite sure of the exact reason I was blushing. The fact that she just said everyone on campus was talking about me made me blush and the “good looking” comment only ended up make me blush harder, I could literally feel my head swell.

“Hmmm, please have a sit,” I replied, trying to change the topic before she noticed that my head had suddenly grown bigger.

She walked into the shop and sat on the chair which was placed directly at the front of a gigantic mirror.

I stood behind her for a while and admired her looks. She could easily pass for a model with her really short bump shorts and “show me your belle” top.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” She snapped me back to reality.

“Oh! Am sorry,” as a sharp guy, I seized the opportunity and dropped my first “punchline”, “I was just wondering why God was so unfair when he created you,” I added.

The line worked exactly as I had hoped it would as she stared at my reflection on the mirror looking confused, “what do you mean by that?” She asked.

“Oh! I mean its not fair that you are this hot and other girls are not half your heat,” I said and winked at her. In my years of female study, I’ve learnt that the words: hot, beautiful and cute applies to different kind of girls, pending on the dress code and attitude of the girl in question. Bad girls are hot, good girls are beautiful and girls who are somewhere in between good and bad are cute, I never mix it up.

She smiled while she thought of a reply.

“So what exactly do you want me to do to your hair,” I asked before she could think of a reply.

“Errr… I dunno really, just make me look good,” she replied and just as I had expected, she finally returned my wink.

“You already look good,” I replied, but got no reply. So I walked over to the table at her front and picked up a comb, I started combing her hair into shape so as to know what exactly to do.

While I did this, I decided it would be best I push my luck, “so.. Am Stanley by the way,” I said.

She nodded in approval and kept quiet to my greatest disappointment. Wasn’t this the girl who winked at me a few moments ago, I thought.

“You know, this is usually the part you tell me your name,” I added.

She smiled once again but there was something different about this smile that I just couldn’t pinpoint, “am Amaka,” she replied.

“Hmmm, Amaka, nice name,” I complemented. In reality, I know over a thousand girls named Amaka so there really isn’t anything special about the name, but she didn’t need to know that, did she? *wink*

“Thanks, I hear that a lot ” she replied and dipped her hands into her pocket, she brought out a Tecno Phantom A1 and after tapping the screen for a few seconds she opened her BBM and started pinging while I made her hair. The thought of tecno phones now pinging made me frown. I bought my first london used BB tour for twenty eight thousand naira and now people with eleven thousand naira can now ping? Can you imagine?! That’s just an insult to me.

I quickly wiped the thought from my head as I wasn’t going to let the personal grudge I had with Tecno android phones get in the way of nailing Amaka.

“So you a student here, right?” I asked, trying to create a conversation.

“Yea,” she replied coldly.

I wasn’t going to let her cold reply shake me, “what are you studying?”

“Law,” she replied, still consistent with the coldness in her tone.

“What level?” I asked. I didn’t care if she was a diploma student or post graduate, just asked so that we could keep on talking.

“300 level,” she replied.

I don’t know what came over me, but her responses suddenly got to me and I really didn’t know when I said, “why are you forming for me? You like me and I like you too, so what’s with all this cold replies?”

She suddenly stopped pressing her phone and turned to look at me. She stared for a few seconds and asked, “what did you say?”

The question brought me back to my senses and even though I really wanted to repeat myself again, I replied, “nothing really, just said you have a nice hair colour.”

“Better!” She exclaimed and went back to pressing her phone… Her cheap thirty K chinco tecno trash.

For the rest of her stay, I made her hair in silence and mentally raining curses on the evil spirit that sent her to my shop to spoil my day. I considered spoiling her hair but she looked like someone who could cause wahala, and I didn’t need drama at such early hour in the morning.

Finally, after thirty minutes of sharp silence, she finally left my shop and once again, I was all alone.

I sat on the chair she sat on and for some strange reasons I started thinking about her, for hours, I wondered if I made a wrong move by letting her go without taking her number or even pin.

My thoughts were interrupted by the presence of my second customer of the day.

“Good afternoon, pilease, I wantu plait my hair,” the customer said with an annoying ibo accent.

The new customer was an exact opposite of Amaka as she wore a skirt that touched her ankles, a rather over sized MTN customed T-shirt with one of those green “Lord Chosen” apron like jacket, and a scarf with flower designs all over it, even though I was a professional hairdresser and had seen all types of hair, I wasn’t so sure I wanted this particular customer to remove her scarf.

“I said, goodu afternoon, I wantu plait my hair,” she repeated herself as she saw I didn’t reply or acted like I had seen her.

“Errr.. Come and sit,” I finally replied and waved to the chair. “What style do you want?” I added as she sat.

“All back,” she replied with a grin. As an experienced and seasoned hairdresser, I could tell from the contours on her head that she had never really weaved her hair, perhaps all she did was tie it with those black ropes that are used for tying hair.

Just to make sure she can afford my fee before I started, I said, “your money na #400 oh.”

“#400 gini? For wetin? You go use gold design the hair?” She fired.

I became furious, “see, I no get time to waste, if you no gree, comot my shop!” I yelled at her.

She noticed that I wasn’t moved my her first reaction so she tried a cooler one, “anhan, na why you dey do like this bros? Oya no vex, I no get #400, make I pay you #300,” she pleaded.

I weighted my options and when recalled I didn’t even take money from Amaka out of sheer stupidity, I accepted her offer.

I picked up a comb and immediately went down to work. The time was already 2:00PM.

By 2:35PM, I had gone half way and we had both not said a single word. I had no intention of talking to her, I just wanted to make her hair and pray I never see her again.

Just when I was thought my day couldn’t get any worse, she opened her mouth to speak. “Are you a Christian?” She asked.

“Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed. What has that got to do with the hair am plaiting? I thought.

“Eh? What did you say?” She asked.

“Err.. Nothing,” I replied. “Yes, am a Christian,” I added.

“Okay, which church do you attend?”

Like seriously? Can’t she just keep her pipe shot! I thought. “Am an anglican,” I responded irritably.

“Oh! Good. So.. Can I ask you a personal question?” She asked. I was already wondering where the ibo accent she had had gone to? Her english was almost flawless now. Her looks still remained the same though.

“No,” I replied coldly, the fact that she was talking to me was enough. I couldn’t bear a personal question too.

She chuckled. “What’s making this one chuckle now?” Was the question I asked myself.

“I’ll ask you anyway,” she replied. “Are you a born again?” She asked.

“Pardon?” Was all I could say. I wasn’t really surprised, she looked like “the type”.

“I said: Stanley, are you a born again Christian?”

I was shocked, I busy hands froze on her hair as I wondered how the hell she knew my name?

She saw my shocked look, “why do you look surprised” she asked.

“How did you know my name?” I asked with a straight face. Had it been Amaka who already knew my name, I probably wouldn’t have reacted this way o.

“Oh! That? I spotted it on that book over there, when I entered your shop,” she replied and pointed at my hard cover records book which was on a stool close to the door. I was surprised and impressed at how observant she was.

“Wow! You a student here?,” I asked out of curiosity. She had to be a scholar to be that observant, but she just didn’t have the look of a UNILAG girl, so I was pretty confused.

“Yes, I am. I’m studying Bio-Chem,” she replied. I wondered who asked her what she was studying.

“Okay oh. Cool,” I replied and went back to making her hair in silence until she spoke again.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” she blurted.

“Which question?”

“Are you a born again Christian?” She repeated herself.

Truth be told, I wasn’t and probably still isn’t, but I knew telling her that would lead to a full length lecture on repentance and I wasn’t really in the mood for that, all I needed was peace and silence.

Please don’t get me wrong, I’m a Christian and was brought up in a good Christian family but I just don’t know what happened.

“Yes, I am,” I finally replied.

“Hmmm… Okay, good for you,” she said. “Maybe when you are done with my hair, we could talk about the gospel, what do you think?” She asked politely.

I cracked my brain for a suitable excuse but I got non, “am packed up for the day, maybe tomorrow,” I finally replied. That seemed like the best excuse at that time.

“Hmmm, okay, I’ll come tomorrow,” she replied and kept quiet until I was done with her hair.

When I was done, she paid and walked out, “don’t forget oh, I’ll come tomorrow around this time,” she added. I promised myself not to be available by that time.

The rest of the day went relatively fast as no interesting customers came and I did the few hair who came in silence.

By 8:00PM, I was done for the day and decided to lock up so I could go home. I picked up my bag which contained my Laptop, and switched off the lights.

“What a day,” I sighed as I walked out of the shop and just when I was about to lock the gate, I heard someone call my name from behind.

I slowly turned around to see the least person I had expected to see after all her shakara.

“Amaka!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, errr.. You already going?”. She asked.

“Yes, I am… Any problem?” I asked, not sure either I should be excited or angry.

“I forgot something in your shop,” she replied seductively.

“What’s that?” I asked.

She didn’t reply me directly but walked closer to me and to my greatest surprise, she stretched and kissed me, “that’s what I forgot to do,” she replied.

I smiled, “girls sha! Them too dey form”, I thought.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked and winked at her.

“Errr… Maybe,” she said.

I turned and walked back into the shop excited about what was about to happen, my monday couldn’t have gotten any better, or so I thought.

She walked in and sat at an extreme end of the shop. I switched on the fan, locked the windows and closed the door, I couldn’t bolt it from inside so I just hoped no one would barge in.

Then turned back to Amaka and well… You know what we wanted to do.

I had barely gone for five minutes when someone suddenly barged in and switched on the light.

I immediately turned to rain curses at the imbecile for not knocking at least… But as I saw the person, I had a re-think and temporary lost my ability of speech.

I looked around for a means for me to escape but I had locked the windows that was she was standing at the door.

I conjured the best smile I could. “Latifah, are you back from you friend’s place?” I stuttered.

Her threat still rang in my ear.



25 thoughts on “#ShortStory: Beauty Salon.

    1. Hmmmm.. Profile? Errr… I don’t have a direct personal profile on the blog but you can check the “about” button to find more. Now that you have asked, maybe I’ll create a profile. Thanks for commenting

    1. Lol… Na so I see am oh.

      I’m not a hater oh, its just fictional writing, a lot of “BlackBerry users” are not happy that Tecno android now pings, so I thought I’ll use that to my advantage as a comedy excerpt in the story. Thanks 4 commenting.

      1. Samson

        anytime bro yu re really talented men Ur level of imagination is really crazy and amazing is there any way I can buy some from uu :-);-)

  1. tomisin

    Seriously I must confess, you’re one big talent niaja has got, am a big fan even though I follow your works silently but now is the time to come out of my hiding and say you’re GOOD. Keep it up brother, you’re going places. CHOP KNUCKLE

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