Signs & Wonders

Every year, there’s some prophetic declaration that Pastors pronounce. It doesn’t even matter if they hear from God. You know, because, sometimes the lord might be busy handling other important stuff like the war in the middle east, Donald Trump’s wig or Vic -O. Hence it’s a general occurrence when they (the pastors) follow the spirit (alcohol) and make these pronouncements under the influence.

One of the most common ones is “The year of Signs & Wonders”. The thing about this is that, whatever happens must be a sign or wonder. It must sha fall into one of the categories, so pastors can’t go wrong with this.

On that note, welcome to 2016 – A year of signs and wonders. In case you’re looking for a sign, they are everywhere. This year, you will not experience bewilderment and utter flummoxation! You will not look at a sign and wonder “The fuck?” Your signs will be clearer than Toke’s skin magnified and projected on HD. Better say Amen!

Now, there’s a set of human-like living things who apart from the above mentioned pastors, occasionally put up sign posts – usually warnings, or advertisement of their services or shops and how they can be located. ‎I call them human-like because (opposed to normal humans) their signs almost always carry the most ridiculous contents

Of course I took pictures of them. Help me understand these signs because I’m sure the people who put some of them up meant them as jokes…


I almost drove into the car ahead when i saw this

I almost drove into the car ahead when i saw this

“Fuckenizer?” That’s definitely a hybrid vulcanizer fuck boy right? Like, I’m coming. Are the tyres a representation of his rubber size? Is he trying to say he’s going to need something that huge to…? Someone abeg, call the number.

The CROCAT. You know... Half Croc, half Cat. Tastes so good in peppersoup

The CROCAT. You know… Half Croc, half Cat. Tastes so good in peppersoup


Their God, their Mother

Their God, their Mother

There’s several interpretations to this one. Is God their mother? Is the barbing salon co-owned by God and his mother? What’s the sharing formula? And why the fuck are they also into wears and accessories? Here’s something similar Sirkastiq found on Google


This one probably sells the barbing salons alongside clothing materials.

Rechard your phones right here bruv.

Rechard your phones right here bruv.

Who is rechard and why are we bying him/her/it a card?

Yeah, so I know you’re like a Mollusc and you don’t really come out of your house except when work or worship calls, or when you’ve set your place on fire (again) trying to cook that dope ass Egusi you saw on IG.

But if occasionally, you do? You’ll notice there are other actual living things situated around you‎. These living things have houses too, cars too, and they go to work, worship and cook Egusi too.

So let’s share. What are some of the most ridiculous signs you’ve seen. Pictures will be awesome.

Have a great year ahead guys

  • Grey



No I’m not going to answer, so I’m just going to continue ignoring her and go straight to the post we have. If she does contact you, please just tell her – no I don’t want to meet to go over anything and yes I’m still in Nigeria where nothing happens.

Now you people think that most of the mad people are out on the streets. It’s actually a lie. The one that wrote this for instance – confirmed looney. But then again, so are the rest of us on the team.

Ladies, Gentlemen, Caitlyns and Wendy Williamses, welcome back @TheGreyGenesis


*Pastor dances onto Altar while choir chants Hosanna*

Pastor: Praaaaaaise the Lord! It’s testimony time. With me on the altar today is Brother Chidi. Bro Chidi, please share what the Lord has done for you with us today.

Bro Chidi: Prai -Prai – Praaaaaaise the Lord!

Pastor remember when you asked us to see the positive sides of dreams and believe with all of our hearts that they would come to pass?

Pastor: Uhm, I think so… yes. go on.

Bro Chidi: Well Pastor, I’ve realised that truly, when the Lord is about to bless you tremendously, it will come as a dream.

Pastor: Yes, yes. When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, they were as those who dreamed! Go on Bro, Go on!

Bro Chidi: Pastor at the beginning, I had no job, nowhere to stay, no money, no happiness, no love, no food, no clothes, no life, no—

Pastor: errr… *chuckles nervously* But then the Lord came to your aid?

Bro Chidi: well, then one day on my way to Church, I received a phone call. It was one of the most profitable international huuuuge ICT companies I had applied to work with for years with no results…

Pastor: (sensing miraculous punchline coming) SOMEBODY SHOUT GLORAAAAY!

Congregation: Gloryyyyyyy!

Pastor: Go on brother Chidi.

Bro Chidi: Well, they were only calling to let me know that not only was I unqualified for the job, but that I wasn’t the type of person their Company would ever hire. Ever.

Pastor: It is well o.

Bro Chidi: Yes Pastor. So there I was, dejected and feeling depressed after the call. Then a thought hit me. I realised I recognised the voice of the company’s call‎er. Sounded like the voice of Uche, an old University mate from waaaaay back. So I impulsively dialled the number back. ‎To my surprise it was him. He was so happy to hear from me when I reintroduced myself. He only knew me as ‘Chidoski the Lowski’ back in school. Uche was now the Vice President of the company’s HR Department. In summary Pastor, after meeting up with Uche a week later, I explained my plight to him, and he promptly approved the position for me. Pastor, I received my appointment letter as a P.R ambassador to this multibillion $ company. Complete with 6 figure salary, a brand new apartment in Lekki, and a brand new Range Rover Sports as bonus package!

*Congregation goes Berserk*

*Pastor rolls around on Altar in celebration*

*Choir screams lyrics of I have seen the downfall of Satan*


*Congregation screams*

Pastor: Glorayyyy!!! See the bless–

Bro Chidi: I’m not done sir, there’s more.

Pastor: There’s more? Wow

Bro Chidi: Some months after I started working there, I met the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen in my life. And we started dating…

Pastor and Congregation: Oh yeah?



Bro Chidi: Then we started courting…

Pastor and Congregation: yeah?

‎Bro Chidi: (abashed grin) Did I forget to mention she’s the only daughter of the Company’s CEO.


Congregation: Gloryyyyyyy!!!

Bro Chidi:‎ A year later, we relocated to the United States where I was made the GM of our large unit there.

Pastor: *jumps on Bro Chidi in bear hug* GLORAAAAY!!!

Bro Chidi: Then we got married. Another year later, my wife gave birth to a set of twins. Beautiful boy and girl!

Pastor: (In call and response sing-song voice) I. AM. NEXT IN LINE!




Pastor: THE LOWSKI‎…

Congregation: THELOWSKI




*Ushers rush on Altar and lift Brother Chidi to their shoulders and start dancing*

‎*choir begins Kpoyommemma praise and worship song*

*Congregation goes Apeshit for 15 minutes STRAIGHT*

Pastor: Now let’s calm down. Calm down as Brother Chidi concludes his AMAZING testimony!

Bro Chidi: ‎Yes Pastor, thank you Pastor. Soooooooo, these are all the things the Lord did for me in the dream.

*Church goes Deathly quiet*

Pastor: wait, wait, whaaaaaaa-?

Bro Chidi: I slept yesterday with no job, nowhere to stay, no money, no happiness, no love, no food, no clothes, no life but the Lord gave me this wonderful dream and I woke up this morning still in the same state but now I’m feeling hopeful. I just know my dream can come true.

Pastor: *clutches chest* So all that money? The Tith… The company? They’re not real—

Bro Chidi‎: It was all a dream Pastor. It was all a dream ‎.







The most annoying thing of Grey’s stories is how he keeps you wanting more. Like you get to the end and you want to turn the ‘page’ over, or flip to side B,but nah, you’ve gotta come back next time. Have you had such a dreamy experience? Something you know will happen soon but people think you’re just foo…sorry gotta run, the boo (Rihanna is calling me)

A few of my favourite things

“… Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens     

Brown paper packages tied up with strings… “


Don’t nobody care about no gotdamn bright kettles. Maria play too much

Everyone has the right to like anything regardless of how zany and Batshit loopy it makes them seem. It’s the exercising of your rights to keep most of these things you like, boxed up in a locked chest, then sealed inside a locked vault, and forgotten inside the unreachable recesses in your minds that keeps most of you on this side of prison bars and/or out of straitjackets. But thankfully, I’m not weird like you guys. So I can and will proceed to share a few of my favourite things with you guys.

1. Old adverts.


Everyone loves old Ads. Everyone. Even if you don’t have a TV…or a radio…or a newspaper…or noisy neighbors with any of these things.

2. Being lost in music I mean, picture you’re at your girlfriend’s crib meeting her parents for the first time and then Davido’s “Dami Duro” comes on and My God! You don’t know when you start beating your air drum. Listen, the things music can do to you. I would write a song eulogising this but i’ll get so lost in it that I probably will never complete it image 2. Fridays.  (editor’s note: TheGreyGenesis can’t count) Man, I love Fridays. Especially when it is one of those weeks that seems like the universe paid the office to assasinate you when you came in on Monday. But then, you somehow pull through with your psyche threatening at every other turn to splinter. Then just like that, you realise it’s Thursday. And you’ve almost closed…


3. When your Barber shapes you up just right.



Barber so elite, shape up so deluxe. You guys may not quite understand how important barbers are. After mothers and babes, barbers are the only other humans that can turn our heads. pun intended. You never really appreciate your barber until you turn up at work/school on a Monday and people start looking at you like you just crawled out of Jim Iyke’s left nostril. LOL..Make your barber give you wrong cut one time, baba, no one would advice you to cease further dealings. But sonnnn, when they get that trim nice and friction your hair like you can use it to slice onions, then you understand why Solomon hosted the queen of Sheba. (Please don’t try to understand this)

4. Attractive people. Saks and Terdoh, skip this.

5. Girls in Jalabia. Yeah, I’ve always been curious. What is the right way to say that? Is it Jalabia, JalaMIA, or JalaPIA? What language does this word stem from? Is it okay to utilise any of the pronunciations like the way we pronounce that thing as /Boli/ and /Bole/ depending on where we are at the moment? (even though we all know the right pronunciation is /Boli/) But look ladies, all fingers are not equal, if you can’t afford a Maxi dress, who said you must languish in despair? Arise from the ashes oh maiden, arise and proceed to thine nearest Mallam, arriveth there and purchase for thineself a frock of northern heritage, purchase fair maiden, a Jalabia to cover up thine nakedness. even though we really don’t mind 

6. Harmattan. This is actually my favorite season here. Everything is so hot and cold at the same time, and hazy then clear, then dry, then moist. Bipolar season. What’s not to love?


Harmattan is cruel to some people though. LMAO! You’ll see some people looking so darned ashy. As if they mixed semovita in their lotions.


Lips looking like shed snakeskin

7. Pringles. For me, Pringles are to movies, what egusi is to Eba. What Agege bread is to Ewa Agoyin. What… Yeah, you get the point.


8. The smell of rain before it falls. This is an actual scientifically researched phenomenon. And it has an English name.  It’s called “Petrichor”. You’re welcome.

9. Dope punchlines in movies. 


Trinity: Dodge this.

10. Those Comebacks that leave the recipient like…



Passersby are left in shock

11. New Money. Yo. You know those freaks who adore the smell, feel, sight of (and have probably tasted) clean, new, mint money? I may or may not be one of them. I get attached to the appearance of clean money and end up not wanting to spend it.


Just want to tie it to a necklace and wear it to work


So there you have it guys. My random list of random things I like. Do you also have a list of things you like that you know you’ll never say out loud because you don’t want to be lynched or labelled as a witch? Comment with your list. We promise we won’t immediately report you to the police. 🙂

Grey Out


Hey guys.

Let’s talk about juju. What do you see, feel or imagine when you hear the word Juju?




Or this?

I would like to state emphatically that true Juju, good or bad, IS, and is within every single person you’ve ever met with/currently relate with or you’re yet to meet. I’ll explain.

After having asked several people at random , the general consensus as to the actual definition of Juju seems largely determinable by three factors; Where you’re from, how and where you were raised, and by whom (or what) raised you.

But for the purpose of this gist, I will like to talk about THIS genre of Juju


She scares Satan. Go figure

Although it’s not really why we’re here today, I’ll neither agree nor argue with anyone who postulates that Juju is a function of the individual’s mindset. With the mind’s power trailing its efficacy in most cases like any other placebo, that would be a hard case to accept or refute.

You might want to read that again slowly to grasp the understanding of the immense magnanimous brilliance I just spewed.

See, no matter who you currently are, as long as you were born human, at some point or the other, you still are were once scared  of those diabolical, unmentionable, unexplained (and probably unexplainable) things you maybe haven’t experienced yet but you’ve been told could happen in or to your very reality.

Especially if you’re a Nigerian, raised in Nigeria.

Where superstition is a living thing?
LOL. It’s unwritten but you’re expected to believe. So you can solicit sympathy/assistance when you’re faced with circumstances beyond your ken.

Let me illustrate.

The hypothetical average Mr Bomboy steps out of his house in the morning and gets blindsided by a car ten ways to Sunday and survives. Before long, you start hearing “He survived? It’s Juju.”

OR, Mr Bomboy dies. On the spot. You start hearing stuff like “it was Juju. The road was thirsty.”

As per Fanta or Coke is too mainstream yeah?

OR, Mr Bomboy dies later in the hospital. Give it time. Yup, you’ll hear the “it was Juju” theorists.

Or Mr Bomboy has suffered for at least 2 decades in abject poverty and then one day shit was to happen (as shit always does) either by Bomboy’s machination or nah, and Bomboy’s fortune gets reversed for good. Then Bomboy buys a Range sport and moves out of the red Sea into his Canaan without pausing to spit in the wind? Of course you people will be waiting.
To say it.
To say it was Juju.
That Juju did it for him.

Or Mr Bomboy died somewhere far from home and as his corpse is being transferred back home for the funeral, the vehicle transporting the corpse has a horrible accident… Well

Anyways, we can infer the basic meaning(s) of Juju from the assumptive postulated scenarios of the life and times of the unfortunate Mr Bomboy.

Juju is commonly the concocted label that can (and is usually) pasted on acts or happenstances that the majority of witnessing parties deem supernatural. Or diabolic. Or scientifically nor religiously unexplainable.

That seems to be the only way I can explain it. From findings,  there appears to be different types, categories and sublets of the perceived phenomenon that is called Juju. We’ll talk about that in a bit.

Some call it Jazz. Some call it Voodoo. Some call it Eco. Some call it Kobnomi. Some call it format. Some call it Science. Asians call it Jutsu. Some call it Otumokpo.


Hear, hear

Now let’s talk about the various types /groups and associative categories of Juju as portrayed by perceived incidents and literature in Nigeria and around the world.

The love or affinity Juju.
Bomboy meets the girl of his dreams in 3D. He continually tries several things and eventually they end up together.
You people will say Bomboy has traveled to some Juju place upon some mountain in Okene and has obtained some means by which he has ‘Jazzed‘ her. If Bomboy blinks too much when talking to her, the theorists will go “AHA! He rubbed the jazz on his eyelids.

Or Bomboy’s got game and he meets the babe and she falls ass over body magic in love with him within a week, theorists will go “AHA! AHA!!! He’s using Touch and follow!

Or our hypothetical Single Bimbo prepares and brings food for everyone to the office on her birthday. The branch Manager eats thereof and falls in love with Bimbo and very soon Bimbo gets engaged? Theorists be pointing like “AHA! AHA!! AHA!!! It’s Kobnomi she put in that food for Manager. She has washed put inside!

The transformation Juju.

This type is probably the most unbelievable type of Juju that goes on every single day. Very common especially with the ladies.


Even when you’re staring at evidence, your eyes continue to fuck with you

The Offensive/defensive Juju.
Heard a story once about a guy, during a heated altercation  at a bus park, who removed his shirt and threw it in the air.


Whereupon his opponent fled.

Hmmmm and Hian.

The Financial Juju.
Where Bomboy opens a shop beside someone selling provisions. And Bomboy is selling provisions too. And from the day Bomboy moves next door, customers abruptly stop patronizing the neighbor and buy only from Bomboy.


Our movie industry is not even helping matters at all as regards dissemination of corrective information to their large audience of potential Juju theorists . With their portrayal of Juju as the primary cause of everything wrong with everything and everyone, little wonder the average Nigerian has deemed it fit to codify everything happening as caused by Juju or solvable by Juju.

In almost every Nollywood movie there’s a relative or friend of Bomboy who has turned into; or sent something like the… Thing that seems to crawl out of those fevered types of nightmares with one when one’s really really sick and hallucinating to victimize poor Bomboy. ALWAYS.


ah bite ya nose

And there’s a real life Bomboy too who will watch that movie and start believing all his problems were caused by Juju. Thereby immersing himself in the beliefs of the belief troubling the theorists.

So when next something goes wrong, Bomboy starts to look for protection or solutions from the resident native doctor. Or the one atop some mountain top in some fabled far off place.

And even when Bomboy does not go to any mountain top but decides to take his problems to Synagogue where he believes it can be solved…


You people are already  gathered and setting boobytraps in the comment section of Lin-Lin’s blog like “AHA! AHA!! AHA!!!

*double sigh*

Moving on, let’s talk about the issue of sacrifices and the part they play in the Juju gist.

See, I’m not sure what I would do if I ever saw someone tying a white wrapper and placing a claypot with Eko, and boiled eggs and palm oil beside the junction close to my house. Last last we must bring police into the matter. Because… WHY???

For, believe in it or nah, almost all normal people would like to avoid being dragged into someone else’s spiritual battles.
Just imagine. 5am, you’re preparing to go for a jog and you open your gate to see an elderly person tying white wrapper dropping a claypot opposite your house.


This boiled eggs and palm oil life

I mean what would you do? Where do you see the rest of your day going?

Then, Nollywood portrays the most execrable images of native doctors. A. K. A Dibias/Babalawos


The Babalawo format

You dun know deh ting

Please, please, please. I’ve never seen a portrayal of a Dibia/babalawo where the doctor didn’t look like the cause of the problems brought to him.

Were I a babalawo, my first spell, by all that’s holy, would be repackaging.

I’d look like Michael frigging Ealy at least before starting the practice in my chosen career. Let me see how customers won’t come.


How Babalawos should look

Anyway, even though I have tried my darnedest to maintain the requisite pansophical neutrality of belief in the writing of this post, I have to again unequivocally state that I truly believe that all the forms of juju-related issues out there stem from what you listen to and who you relate with.

In the words of Blaise Pascal,
All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.

So guys,
What do YOU believe?

*goes back to room and sits alone on floor with arms akimbo*

Food Porn – @TheGreyGenesis

Welcome Guys to what is the last day in the “Food Porn” series. We would love to thank all who participated in making this a reality; All the contributors and those of you have frequented here just to keep up with the posts. Thanks so much. Our apologies to those who sent in content but we were unable to use as a result of the tight schedule. We really do appreciate it.

Do remember that you can nominate this blog in the Nigerian Blog Awards by clicking here and inserting in the categories you deem fit, especially the “Best Humour Blog”


Now to wrap up the series, Ladies and Gentlemen; @TheGreyGenesis


As we proceed with this discourse, please let me assure you, everything you read here today are all proven facts. We choose to educate you unless you want to remain ignant. Your choice really. On the last day, we’ll say we told you but you chose to act the fool. And you know that the Good Lord abhors Fools.

So, let’s talk about Indomie.

You’ll never believe the potential Indomie has until you bring down your worldly nose and let certified and experienced people tutor you on how to be great.

Yeah so, on the off chance there’s one amongst our readers who lives in a mango tree somewhere in Bombay and who was raised by wolves and who until now has had no access to other homosapiens, the Internet, or happiness in general, we will explain what Indomie is.

Indomie is a brand of instant noodles made by indonesian manufacturers.


Yes, Nigerian readers. Indomie was not created by your country. In fact I want you to read that again so it sinks in well.
Ooh, you little rebel you. See you making as though you want to scroll on. Lol. I like your spirit.

So I’ll retype it.

Indomie is a brand of instant noodles by indonesian manufacturers. Yes, Nigerian readers. Indomie was not created by your country.

See? Mi Goreng or something..

See? Mi Goreng or something..

Indomie is very similar to the female human as its natural physiognomy without makeup is neither remarkable nor exciting. But the potential is unbelievable.

It’s ok to quickly go look up the meaning of “physiognomy” We won’t judge you. We try to educate you as much as we can here on TSC.

Where were we? Yeah…

There is also a striking resemblance with the common crackers biscuit; It’s dry and unappealing when you open the pack, but should you happen to put it in a cup with milk and sugar and maybe a little mayonnaise (if you’re damaged like that)… It (the crackers biscuits) becomes sexy.

But I digress. 🙂

Since I was born, and even now that I’m still young, I have never loved another the way I have grown to love Indomie. I have seen several, and can confidently tell you, the following means and mediums by and with which Indomie can be ingested.

-By biting.
-By nibbling
-by chewing
-by slurping
-by drinking
-with chopsticks
-with forks
-with spoons
-with knives (true story)
-with forks & knives
-with spoons & forks
-with fingers
-from plates
-from cups
– with straw (I’m not playing)
-from navels


Moving on, I can also veritably attest to the fact that there is no food item easier to learn and cook than Indomie.

3 simple steps:

1. Put Indomie and spices into container with water
2. Add neatly rinsed egg
3. Add heat source.

Voilà! When it’s done you’ll know.

Meanwhile, if you don’t like the taste of poisonous dysentery and inescapable and agonizing death, your brain might want to tell you to remove the wrapper before putting the stuff into container with water. Also, in some countries, eggs don’t come in the Indomie packs but people buy them separately. Can you imagine that type of resentful struggle? Hian.

Now that we’ve established what Indomie is, how to cook it, and methods of ingestion, let us discuss the things Indomie has been engineered to comfortably substitute, as well as its benefits as a substitute.

Firstly, Indomie can substitute biscuits.

You can give your kids to take with to school. Break time when other kids are opening shortbread biscuits and haribos and stoffs, your kids can open their packs of Indomie and chew in synergy. Very good for healthy jaw and cheek exercises. (unless you’re a wicked parent and you don’t want your kids to have dimples)

Never in short supply. These kids are going to be GREAT

Never in short supply. These kids are going to be GREAT

You were looking at that girl’s pant abi? And you say our nation has problems. Can you evaluate yourself and rate on a scale of 0 to Yerima how much of a perv you are?

Moving on, even you, as a real G. You can take it to the office. It’s economical. Almost 300 strands in one pack. Tell me what earthly biscuit has that many constituents in one carton even. Just tell me.

Also, as a biscuit substitute, it has low calories (that is, if you don’t add butter, mayonnaise or jam before chewing).


Secondly, It goes without saying that with Indomie, you don’t need the stress of making Spaghetti or rice ever again. Indomie is like the summarization of spaghetti, rice and  macaroni all in one concise and easily accessible, 3 step cook-able by and for everyone pack.

In fact, had I known then what I know now, I would have written on ‘Indomie as a panacea’ as my project topic back in School. So many benefits and proven remedial properties in that wonderful pack.

Indomie has been known to cure heartbreak, heartburn, body pains and  even stopping mild heart attacks.

Now, in case you suffer cases of pathological laziness and  even the simple 3 step method of cooking the noodles proves too herculean a task? There are Indomie vendors EVERYWHERE!

Those gentlemen most Nigerians refer to as ‘Mai-Shai’? Yeah. They will hook you up with the best Indomie your money can buy.  Just come down from your car, sit back and kick up in one of their roadside offices, listen to the latest news from their ever present tiny transistor radios and before you know it, the magic will happen.

This is a non-deceitful image of what you MIGHT get

This is a non-deceitful image of what you MIGHT get

Now, although Indomie by itself (with the requisite egg) is orgasmic awesomeness? Remember we were talking about makeup and transformation earlier? Well, eating Indomie without garnishing or accompaniments is like traveling with a car that has fuel but no brake fluid and/or engine oil. Take what you will from this point, regardless of where you intend to go, you’ll not like the outcome of that journey.

Again, the following combinations are things we have witnessed as generally accepted accompaniments or otherwise experimental procedures:

-Indomie with sardines.
-With ham.
-With sausages.
– With duvet eggs.

Indomie Blankate...An Italian masterpiece

Indomie Blanket…An Italian masterpiece

-Indomie with animals (beef, goat meat, suya, fish, bushmeat, lamb etc)…
– Indomie cooked with vodka
– Indomie and beans
– Indomie and shawarma.

Yeah, so there you have it. An expository post on why you cannot help but love Indomie.

In conclusion, here are some things that are neither here nor there but worthy of note all the same regarding indomie:

*Indomie can be an aphrodisiac. It all depends on the ‘how’ of the preparation.

*The “Mama she do good o! -She do good!” Indomie advert song has the same upbeat tempo as the song “in the club” by 50cents. I’ve performed it on Karaoke night before.

*ignore that rubbish myth that says Indomie can be cooked in 2 minutes. That’s chaff you’re eating bruv. CHAFF.

*I learned how to boil eggs when I started cooking Indomie.

My first boiled egg & Indomie meal. Had to keep the picture, sorry for the quality. It's old.

My first boiled egg & Indomie meal. Had to keep the picture, sorry for the quality. It’s old.

*The word ‘Indomie’ was mentioned 37 times in this post.

*Indomie could be, but was not intended as a snack during its creation. For all those who use Indomie to hold the stomach in between meals, in the words of the wise Philosopher, Tupac Amaru Shakur, “Only God can save you now”


Grey out.


Remember to nominate this blog in the Nigerian Blog Awards by clicking here and inserting in the categories you deem fit, especially the “Best Humour Blog”


Rant Five

Hi Guys,
Grey here.
It’s been one helluva week for us and we’ve been up to a lotta writing. Not here though, I featured on TNC’s “Sins Of The Fathers” series here and so did Sirkastiq here Cumical has been on a break from his usual rounds but he’ll be back this weekend. So if you missed any of our posts, be sure to catch up
So we all have those particular bitch baby bundles and untidy bales of straw life keeps piling on our metaphorical camels’ backs. Until that moment when life adds that ONE strand of straw. And your camel just cannot take the precise bullshit anymore and you remove the first 3 buttons of your shirt in public, untuck your shirt, ruffle your hair, open the face of your mouth and just go AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!! Well, yeah. We’ve been receiving posts from you guys about the type of straw your own life wanted to use to put your own camel in a wheelchair without you or your camel’s permission. Today on AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!! Our guest who prefers to remain anonymous rants about an issue I’m sure most ladies (in her shoes) can relate to. Without further ado…

I dunno how to start this rant but I’m just gonna start anyways.1. I’m 25 (going on 26…ah! Sound of music). I have been dating my boyfriend since I was 16years (close mouth abeg), yep over 9years+. Yet, no ring to show for it. No serious marriage plans.
You know what the annoying part is? All my friends thought I was gonna get married first back in school. Now, even those that were single back then are getting married before me (this life). And of course, I’m always on the train….dancing to “all the single ladies” and jumping to catch the bouquet. I have never caught it.
It got so bad that on 2 occasions, my friends (the Bride) actually walked up to me and handed over the bouquet and said “you’re next.” I just wished the ground could open up and swallow me! Like c’mon I’m not that old nah.
God bless my mum, she doesn’t pester me (much) about marriage. Unlike my Aunties, Uncles, Cousins, Neighbours, Colleagues, Boss, Friends….(the list goes on) that have carried it on their head like fila and gele. They always say, “You’re next in line for a miracle” whenever they hear that a friend is getting married.
AAARRRGGHHH!!! Gimme a break please.
And oh, I’m in a long distance relationship.

2. The only thing my mum really pesters me about is the fact that I rarely go out to catch some fun. She says, “this is the best time to hang out with your friends and let your hair down.” Preach my Deaconess mama!
Yielding to her advice, I decided to go out with this guy that has been bugging me for awhile.  We went to Ikeja City Mall for Dinner and a Movie.
While eating at the restaurant, I noticed this guy’s horrible table manner (I mean the whole 9yards). When I couldn’t take it anymore, I snatched my clutch from the table, got up and said “Nah, I can’t put up with this” and headed straight for the exit. Leaving a big O on his mouth while his spoon hung mid air.
I got out and I was thanking who ever came up with the “vex money” rule cos I brought my atm with me. I was just gonna withdraw cash, get a cab and head back home.
As I catwalked to the machine, I searched my clutch for my card, only to realise I’d brought my ID CARD instead of my ATM CARD (see gobe!) I just came to a halt and did a U-turn back to the restaurant without missing a beat.
Luckily, the guy was still there….looking perplexed. I walked up to him and said “Gotcha!!” And laughed like I meant it and he joined in. I sat down and said “Nawa for you ooo, you couldn’t even come after me.” He was like, “I was too dazed to move” with mashed potatoes flying from his mouth.
And I screamed “AAAGGRRHHH!!!!” in my mind.


There you have it guys. Next time a girl miraculously returns to you after you and your camel have given up on getting lucky? And she says “Gotcha!” or “I was just playing with you”? She has actually thought of leaving you and life didn’t let her. And she’s probably typing a blog post ranting about your gross mashed potato eating ass and sending it to TSC.
Do yourself a favor will you?
Have you played the Street fighter videogame before?
Do you know what Ryu’s uppercut looks and sounds like?
Feel free to use the comment box to share or respond to this post or then again, send yours to us
On behalf of TSC, Grey out. Peace.


Well, you made it this far. Good for you. If you don’t have a boo yet, don’t worry. You’re not the most useless person around. There’s really a whole lot of you. LOL. Happy Valentines Day to you and the one that’s not yours yet because he/she can/might still break up with you after today.

On to today’s aptly chosen piece. He needs no Introduction but fuck it, I’ll Introduce who i damn well desire to Introduce. Ladies, Gentlemen and People of Twitter..



WARNING: This post is not for Single people.

Shebi at this point, normal single people should have closed the page and continued with their lives of seclusion and lotion (look I rhymed! ‘Clusion/lotion’ 😀 ) after having read that warning ba?
But not you.
The Bruce Willis of singledom.

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I’m about to give you guys gist. It’s valentine season and this gist is annoyingly goopy. The season and simple courtesy demand it be so. Parts of the gist may or may not be true. It may or may not be awwwwwwwww-inspiring. But it darned sure is smarmy, diabetes-inducing , dripping with the detergent water from cupid’s boxers and you may actually want to stop living or die outrightly if you ignore the warning and go ahead to read this


Hello Lovers and people in relationships and happy people in general, I greet you all. ^_^
*side eyes single people and spits waywardly in disgust*

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Before I start, quick question… Can you remember how you met the current owner of your mumu button?

I remember mine. Any of you guys ever watched with desire as someone watched you watching them with desire? And the person is watching you with desire as you’re watching the person with desire and you’re watching the person watch you watch them? LOL! This life is a Swatch watch. I desire Panadol right now. I’ve made myself dizzy. (//-\\)
Like I was saying sha, It’s a beautiful beautiful sensation; that inception-ish process of eye-balling a stranger who is also eye-balling you. Beautiful

…Sha, that’s how we met,  my sweetheart and I.

There I was. On my way to buy bread from the supermarket at the shopping complex in the estate. Short stroll. Saturday morning. Was about to cross the road. And since I am a normal human being and not a Millipede, I looked right then left before preparing to cross. And that’s when I saw her face. Guys, my heart made that honest-to-God KEDIKE sound for the first time in my entire life.

“From the first time I met you | There was something about you | I can never forget the way you tainted my heart…”

No jokes. I could hear and feel it in and from my chest. Not the normal PLUPLUPLUPLU sound. No, there was that … and then I saw her face, then KEDIKE, then the PLUPLUPLUPLU continued.
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Such ethereal beauty. I stared into her eyes as time froze and watched as she watched me. Those eyes. The arch of her left eyebrow. That nose. Those lips … Kai, I could have lived in that moment forever. ^_^

“I just can’t help myself, I wan be your own…”

However, Time started to accelerate real quick as a simultaneous sequence of unfortunate incidences unravelled before my very life and watching eyes.
First, I noticed her eyebrows were arching further upwards even as her beautiful eyes began to widen. Almost as if she was about to scream or yodel.

Turned out she was about to scream.
In that same split second I noticed it was only her face I’d  been able to see. I noticed this because I also noticed she was seated in the driver’s seat of a Range Rover sport. A Range Rover Sport in motion!

Thirdly I looked down and noticed I was no longer by the roadside about to cross, but I had crossed while ogling my incoming killer’s beautiful face. I was standing in the exact middle  of the road..

In the path of the Jeep!





Dear God…

I looked up then. And our eyes met and locked even as I heard GBOOM! Next thing i think I knew, I was spread like fried eggs on the bonnet of the angelic stranger’s SUV. The babe must have stood on the brake at that moment because the Range halted of a sudden and I was propelled into the air in the opposite direction with all the grace of an Olympic long jumper on marijuana. I swear, at that moment, I Could understand why Superman wore his pants on the outside

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I was deposited in a gutter with stinky rain water, spirogyra,  the remainder of my shame and God knows what else.
I knew I wasn’t dead but humiliation and my inherent foolishness made me pretend. I assumed the Pacquiao even as I heard car doors opening and people running towards my direction.

I heard what I imagined to be her voice amidst all the other strange yelling voices. Repeatedly crying “oh my God I’ve killed him”. I cracked open an eyelid to peep. And you guys won’t believe this.
In that moment? In my pain? With everything that had just happened? My heart did a funny thing as I saw her full figure standing there with tears pouring down her beautiful face and a slight wind rustling her hair across her face just so.

My stupid heart made that KEDIKE sound again. :’)

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The crowd dispersed when they poked and prodded me and I kept muttering “Go away.” They realised I was more embarrassed than actually hurt and they left me with my stranger.

“Hired killer.” I muttered as I limped out of the gutter and glowered at her.
“Accident victim.” She replied.
And believe it or not we both laughed long and hard. As if it was the single most fucking natural thing for us to have met the way we did.

She asked if I’d left both my eyeballs at home and inquired as to what the hell was actually wrong with me? “What were you looking at? She yelled it like twice.

I asked whether it was Lucifer itself or a direct subordinate that taught her to drive and whether the lesson took place in hell or here in Abuja.

I made to hobble away. She brushed off my “I’m okay”s and ended up dropping me off at the estate clinic. Later, we exchanged contacts. while she complained about the inconsiderate dentIi left on her truck.

On our third date after the incident, I spilled my drink twice as she looked at me. And she choked on her food repeatedly whenever she’d find me watching her. Seated across each other after dinner at some restaurant in some Mall outside the estate, we both started to talk at once of a sudden. She made me go first. And I told her how the accident actually happened (Just as I’ve told you guys). from my perspective. I held nothing back. Told her how I just couldn’t help myself. How I’d felt at that moment when she caught my gaze from behind the wheel of her ride before she nearly killed me.

I basically spat out the entire lyrics of the song which’s title is somewhere above this post. Told her I’d gladly agree to be hit over and over by her truck in all of my afterlives if it would mean we’d always meet and never be apart for all of eternity. Yeah. I said all of that and more. It was an intuitive gamble. I decided to tell her all anyway. My heart had never before beat that way for anybody. Not even that one day when an armed robber, wearing a red shirt and medicated glasses, being chased by an angry mob had sprinted past me. And I was wearing a red shirt too. And medicated glasses. And heading towards the mob. But I digress. That is another gist for another day.

Where was I?
Ah, yes. I told her to laugh at me if she wanted to for being silly and that expressive on our 3rd date. Then I resumed my psycho babble. At some point in my babble I realised she wasn’t laughing.
So I shut up. And watched her watch me.
And she took my hand then. I looked away.
She splayed my fingers over her chest. Over her breast heart.
Then she asked me to look at her.
I looked into her eyes and I swear to God guys.

Her. Heart. Went. KE.DI.KE.

“That’s how I feel when you look at me.” she said :’)

That was 3 years ago. We’re married now. And we tell the story of how we met. To EVERYONE

To God be the glory.

We are nothing but pencils in the hand of the almighty.


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*wipes tears and mucii on Saka’s tee shirt* … Wait. The plural of mucus is mucii right? Toh. Sue me if it’s not. It sure as hell sounds right.
Anyways, happy new year and merry valentine to you all and the families of your better halves.

P.S. As at the time I was typing this last part of this post, (to the best of my knowledge) I was/am Still single too. Shame on the universe. *shakes fist*
Grey out.

Old Roger

Today is one of those days where we just want to chill and give your mind a rest for a bit. We believe we have successfully confused, convinced and convulscated your mental faculty (if in existence), so what better way to ease in than with a cool story. It’s general knowledge around these parts that no one tells cool stories better than this bush baby. Ladies, Gentlemen and Frank Lotion wannabes, enjoy @TheGreyGenesis


We all, at one point or the other, (Since we’re not Actual Pokemons pretending to be Human beings) must have heard of the Old Roger Nursery Rhyme.
Oh, You haven’t? Really? Really?

*Old Roger is dead and gone to his grave (Hmm Ha, Gone to his Grave)
They Planted an Apple tree over his head (Hmm Ha, Over his head)
The Apples Grew ripe and Ready to fall (Hmm Ha, Ready to fall)
A Lady came by and picked them all up (Hmm Ha, Picked them all up)
Old Roger got up and gave her a Knock (Hmm Ha, Gave her a knock*

Something like that.

Toh. Anyway, There I was, Picking Beans last thursday, innocently Day dreaming … thinking of mundane things like How to Pick the Beans without annoying the hapless bean weevils or causing a Riot in their community about why their homes were being picked and for what purposes exactly. I had just started to hum waywardly to myself hoping to cause more confusion for the weevils and had to pause mid-hum when I realised what tune I had hither-fore been humming.

The Old Roger tune.

Why was I thinking about this song on a thursday, I wondered.
Why did this song baffle me so? O_o

I decided to mentally analyse the song line by line and just like that – I was caught in the throes of an aimless epiphany. I suddenly realised why the song troubled me so.

3 Questions Sprung to my mind:

Now, You need to understand this one thing before you continue reading. Whenever I get hungry? Like Honest to God  Hungry? I start to see Visions.

Let me Explain…

*          *          *

Carolina moved in Silence like the G in Lasagna as she Vaulted over the Low Brick wall that served as the Fence of the Graveyard. She dropped and Rolled dramatically on impact with the earth on the other side; ending up in a Semi-crouch.

“I’m in.” She whispered into the Microphone cuffed to her left wrist sleeve.

She had received this Top Priority Classified Assignment from the agency last night and had flown in with the Boss immediately on the first flight this Morning. It had taken the better Part of her afternoon to assemble the equipment she now had packed in the medium sized Duffel bag tightly strapped across her back.

Carolina had been told this Mission was of utmost importance to the very foundation of the Existence of every living thing on the Planet and as such, was a Secret Mission.

No One was told what the mission was.
No One.
Not even Carolina.
The Boss just dropped her at the Graveyard and whispered “Good luck”.

She tiptoed gingerly between the Silent Graves as she peered Blankly into the darkness. Now, Carolina was not a smoker.  She never Drank Alcohol nor did Drugs, Which was why she was Genuinely Shocked as she suddenly saw Casper the friendly ghost sitting innocently on a Tomb stone with a half eaten Corn cob in one ghostly hand.

She Screamed.

Like, Imagine how you’d feel if you had a room that Absolutely NOBODY goes into except you, and one day you come back from School/Work and you open the door of the room and you meet YOUR Parents with YOUR Landlord and Landlady all naked and astride each other in an unholy Tangle on YOUR bed?


Yeah. That’s how Carolina felt as she saw Casper.

It shook its head and asked her Gently if she wanted her mission explained now, or if she still felt like screaming Rudely
She swallowed.

“H-how is this happening?” She Spluttered.

It looked at her funny as if she had just asked for a Twitter follow back during a Sermon while in church and asked her if she had expected to see the Easter bunny instead, seeing as she was Loitering in a Graveyard at Midnight.

She Swallowed again. “Okay. What is my mission?”

It Began explaining about the existence of a myth that stemmed from this very Graveyard. Then it asked her if she ever heard of the Old Roger Myth?

She Blinked

“The One that died with an Apple tree over his Grave?” Yes and No, the Spirit told her. Yes, that’s the Roger. And No. Old Roger is Very Much Alive, it said sounding constipated.

“EHN?” Carolina intoned

Once upon a time, the spirit recited dully, the Government wanted Old Roger’s Farm just because. So they had him killed and uprooted one of his apple trees from his farm and planted it over the head of his grave.

Casper went on to inform her that sadly whenever the Apples Grow ripe and fall, Something Strange occurs. Whoever tries to Pick these apples, Be it Ghost, Civilian or Marine Spirit, Old Roger would suddenly Jump out from God knows where, and deliver a Knock of Abysmal Head shape changing Proportions to the picker of the apples.

Apparently, the other resident Ghosts recently learned from Carolina’s agency that Old Roger has been alive for Centuries now, after having escaped from the Government’s plot and learned Strong Black Magic. He then infused this Black magic into his apples, all of which could grant a wish to anyone who takes a bite. Yet he won’t let anyone do so, just to spite the Government.

They also learnt that Old Roger had a new unknown Look and only one thing about his identity was for certain. Females named Carolina make him want to sit down

Carolina gasped.

Casper apologised to her without sounding sorry and explained that she was requested from her agency solely because of her name and agency’s assurance of her courage in the course of all previous missions.

Carolina started putting 2 and 2 together. Evidently the Apples were ripe at the moment and must have started to fall.

Casper Peered at her intently, nodded and told her point blank that her mission should she choose to Accept would be for her to Pick as many apples from Roger’s grave then try to discover his identity by telling him her name when he appeared.

The chubby spirit explained to her:
(1) with The Power of her name, Old Roger would be compelled to sit down and would therefore be unable to give unto Carolina, the Knock of head shape changing proportions and …

(2) he should be obligated to tell her HIS new name and the ghosts and agency would thereby be able to identify him.

Carolina ingested this information silently and wondered why her Agency was so dramatic. This was the earth Changing mission?

She yimu’ed and told Casper it was a Piece of Cake and she would accept the Mission. She wanted to ask what Ghosts wanted with wish granting apples in the first place but spying the half chewed corn Cob in Casper’s hand, she left the issue at that.

The Ghost led and she followed. That Ghosts existed and that she just had a dialogue with one had not fazed her since the initial shock. But that there was a Man from a Myth who was alive and Magic apples and talks of Concussion inducing Knocks? Carolina found that funny indeed and she Laughed out loud as they came round a Bend and Casper pointed at a lone grave afar off with a Giant moody tree beside the Head stone.

The Spirit wished her Goodluck and disappeared as she trudged over to the Grave. Apples were everywhere on the graveyard floor beside the Headstone which Simply read ‘Old Roger’.

She looked at the Tree, looked at the Grave, looked around quickly, saw no one and Bent down to Pick an apple.

Immediately her finger touched the Apple, a Guttural HMMMMMMMMMMMMM HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Boomed from the tree and a Sudden Breeze Gusted over her entire frame. Carolina looked up quickly and dropped the Apple in shock.

Plummeting from the tree’s top Branches, fist Outstretched (like Superman trying to fly to the sun) towards her forehead, a figure dropped with incredible speed.

She Ducked aside just in time as the fist Brushed the air in front of her forehead and Smashed into the Earth where she had been standing Just a Split second ago. Carolina could have sworn she  actually inhaled the knuckles as the fist swept past. It smelled like Sulphur and Aspirin. The force of the impact created a Crater in the earth which ripped open the floor, along with Old Roger’s grave.

Carolina started to shiver.

Sudden understanding flowed into her mind. THAT was what the Knock would have done to her had it touched her head! Her throat felt parched. The figure rose from the Crater and started to walk towards her, somehow managing to evade the moonlight.

“Oh no. Oh shit. Oh dear God No” She whimpered. She had seen shit like this in movies. The Movies NEVER END WELL.

With a Start, she suddenly remembered Casper’s instruction.

“MY NAME IS CAROLINA!” She Screamed at the figure and a remarkable thing happened.

The figure Suddenly sat. Like, no chair, no stool. Just sat on air with both arms outstretched. He just assumed the posture of someone riding a Bike. But without the Bike.

Remembering the mission, Carolina quickly picked as many apples as she could stuff into her back pack and started to scamper away. Then she paused.

Casper had told her to also find out Old Roger’s identity.

If Old Roger was truly still alive, Carolina Personally wanted to know what he looked like, regardless of how scared she felt.

“Old Roger?” She called out apprehensively as she took one step, then another towards him.
Closer. Closer. She urged herself. One more step.

She was now standing Directly in front of his Oddly seated form.

The Moonlight shone directly on him and Carolina Gasped again in shock even as all the apples and her Bag fell to the floor from suddenly numb fingers.

The Long hair. The Beard. The Stoned expression in those eyes.

“YOU???” She asked, Shocked to the Core of her Mind.


He laughed then.

“I was Old Roger but Old Roger is now me. I chose to hide myself in the Plain view of Public eyes. And you all never knew a Damn thing. That’s how UnderGee I am” He rolled the Words out with the familiar rhythmical Lilt Carolina was very familiar with.

Carolina stared incredulously at him. In mid air in front of her was none other than Saucekid.

It all started to make some Weird sort of sense then even though it didn’t.

‘Carolina’. ‘Undergee’ .The ‘making him want to sit down’ bit. But …

“Yes, Utunu.” He said. “You have discovered my identity. I, Sinzu am Old Roger. And Old Roger is Sinzu too. But I have one Question for you”



Carolina looked in my direction from my mind at this point and Screamed 8 words at me.


The End.

[N.B No Bean Weevils were harmed during the Meditation that eventually led to me having wasted YOUR time with this Spective. Peace, Love and Shoprite Bread Y’all] (???)\/

To Hit or Not

So, I may or may not have been watching an ensuing argument in the upville house of the Big Brother Stargame last sunday when my interest was piqued by the Particular Topic the housemates were yapping about.

In an intense fight. With your Partner. In a Committed relationship. Is it Okay. To hit, or not to Hit.

This Argument tickled me silly because:
1) Of all issues to discuss (like How to achieve World Peace, What to do about Global warming, The Glory & beauty of Plantain & egg sauce etc.) these folk gave Preeminence to THAT issue.

2) Everything tickles me Silly (//?\\)

3) The Argument made me remember Teejay’s Relationship. You’ll understand why in a bit.

Well, we hope to answer at the end, atink…

*editors sidebar: Just incase you don’t know, this is the point where you get your duvet and turn up your room heater*

Back then in school, i had a rented apartment off Campus. In my Compound alone there were close to 7 other apartments (BQ inclusive), all being Occupied by Students. Different Calibres of Human Beings: Males, Females … Then Teejay & His Girlfriend.

The Reason why I know that in Love, the Answer to that “To hit Or Not to Hit” question is very Dynamic is because I, along with the other tenants, were witnesses for almost a Year to the Freak show that was Teejay’s Relationship.

The First time we had cause to be alarmed about the new couple that just moved in to the BQ was when we were all rudely awakened one Night by Screams and Sounds of Objects breaking. We Rushed out, barely dressed, thinking the Compound was under siege by Mutant Armed Robbers or something.

It was Not.

In front of the BQ, we found Teejay Kneeling down while his screaming Girlfriend was tugging at his tee shirt, half pulling him through the Gravel on his knees.

To Start with, Teejay was not a Small Man. You know Flo ryda? The Musician? That’s EXACTLY how Teejay’s Physique was. Beard and all. And his Girlfriend had the Stature of MoCheddar.

Mo’ cheddah.. -___-

Flo-rida 😀

So we, the Tenants, could not understand how the feck this Scene was happening. I mean, with the Laws of Physics being the Laws of physics …

Apparently, the Girl was helping Teejay understand that he Simply Should not be seen holding hands with other girls in Public, we came to find out.

We separated the Fight. They calmed down. We all went back to sleep.

Little did we know That was the Most Domestic Squabble they would ever have. (That We knew of)

There was that one time we all came back from school and Discovered that Teejay had Padlocked the Central Compound Gate with HIS own Padlock and refused to allow us in because he suspected that his Babe was in their apartment with another man, and he was waiting for them to open the door.

She wasn’t. But Teejay had been abused for so long, he was starting to see things.

That’s when we started to realize maybe we ought to report happenings to the Landlord. We were coming to understand that Teejay and his Mate seemed to want us to waste our house rent money with their behaviour.

Or the Other time the babe burnt most of Teejay’s Clothing in a Mini-bonfire in the centre of the Compound.

Or the Countless Nights we’d hear Teejay’s Weeping floating through our windows on the wind.

Is it until she kills me?

Anyway, after having witnessed so many of these Nollywood-like incidences most of us became used to the dramatic couple’s incessant public linen washing, drying & ironing and we carried on life as usual.

Until the day Teejay asked his Girlfriend to Move Out.

Ghen Ghen!!!!

We all had to Rush out again because we thought Either an Earthquake was Happening, Or a small Bomb had been Lobbed into our Compound without our Permission.

Broken Bottles Everywhere, The Babe had thrown Virtually all Teejay’s Electronics & Appliances outside their BQ.

The things we heard that day about the Screaming Couple from the Screaming Couple ehn?

They blamed each other for EVERYTHING. Their Bad Sex life, Teejay’s Carry overs, the Babe’s inability to gain admission to school, Teejay’s Addictions, the Babe’s family history *Stop! Grey you’re killing me. buahahaha* the fact Teejay had no Car, the babe’s inability to have an Orgasm … EVERYTHING.

After a long while of Throwing things in this version and Both their Voices were hoarse with Screaming, Teejay said something he Perhaps should not have said at the Moment.

“Pack Your Things And Go Or So help me God, I WILL SLAP YOU!”

Shit is about to go down yo…

This was New to us all. Even to Teejay. The ensuing Silence was deafening as Observers and Fighters all individually tried to Process this unusual Twist in the now familiar Plot we were accustomed to.

Then Suddenly, as if her Batteries had just Recharged, the girl’s voice went into Chipmunk mode.

I imagined she screamed something that sounded like “EHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!!! SO YOU WANT TO SLAP ME ABI?” While clapping and going forward to grab Teejay by the neck.

We had never known Teejay to be Violent so What happened Next was so XQSP%GXZBYTPLQXYZ!!!! (//_\\)


The Slap landed Smack on the Middle of the Babe’s forehead even as she was screaming “SHEBI IT’S SLAP YOU WANT TO SLAP… YOU MUST SLAP THAT SLAP TODAY OR YOU’RE A BASTAR— ”

*editors sidebar: LMAO!!! reminds me of the now famous DKB slap..oh, i’m sorry carry on Grey…*

Hehehe..hehe..he hit her..hehe.

The Silence Again was Overwhelming.

In that brief Period of that Second Silence Teejay surprised us all again and the Girl even More with a Second well timed Backhand that sounded like a terminal Punctuation.


All of us Witnesses Gasped out a Collective “AAH!” …

The Babe, now seemingly slightly Crazed started laughing Softly.

Then She Promised Teejay he was going to Regret this incident.

…I’m not even joking yo.

Then Teejay screamed about how she could do nothing.

We Separated them at this Point and the Girl left the Compound promising death and Doom and Problems.

It was later that evening the Police Van Came. I learnt they Packed along some Observers too along with Teejay in the back of the Police Van en route the Station to explain their Versions of what they witnessed. :’)

Of course, yours Truly serves a Living God. I was not among those Unfortunate Observers as I was in school at the moment.

That was then. Learnt quite recently that Teejay and the Girl have now done their introductions and are getting married sometime this year.

You See?

So, the “To Hit Or Not To Hit” Question depends on the Relationship. But Generally, life (being life) does not Permit Males to Physically Treat the Fuck up(s) of Females. Unfair, you Guys say? They can Verbally beat you up, you Guys say? Well, learn how to Verbally fight Tai-Chi too & See if that don’t make a Difference. Just don’t Overdo it. So the Missus don’t go learning ACTUAL Tai-chi. ‘Cause if all you’ve got is your Verbal Attacks, & she Knows Tai-chi, She’s Gonn’ FACK you Up.

Guys, if you enjoy being hit, by all means … Buy her a Whip even. But Do Not Hit a Lady. Please.

Unless She hits your Mother (First).

Or your Mother hit her and your Mom ain’t know she Knows Tai chi. And she Murks your Ma all over the Kitchen floor.

…Or Unless you’re Teejay 🙂

To God Be The Glory



Look i’m not even about to start another debate on here as to whether slaps, hits and all that shi-bang are good or bad. We just tell Cool stories here. So yeah…this is where you go to the comment box and stroke our ego with your comments. and if you write shit like “Cool story” I swear, i’ll find you and hit you.

sidebar: All Stories are completely the Intellectual property of TheGreyGenesis. All pictures, and sidebars are my googled property. Thanks.