“I’m going to kill you."

"Why? I did you no wrong."

She shook her head a little. "You can either choose to die quickly and painless, or a slow agonizing death. The choice is yours. I can't let you leave here alive, besides you've seen my face.

"But...but, I forget things easily. Ask me my name, I swear I can't remember it."

She smiled and leaned forward. I saw her clearly for the first time. The light bulb had cast a shadow around where she was seated on a stool in front of me. Her hair covered most of her face, and I could not help but notice the red shoe and the red bra, especially the bra and what it strained to contain.

Damn, that bra be giving me a hardon. Who gets an erection when he hears he is going to die. I need to stop looking at the bra and start thinking of how to stay alive.

I flexed my muscles against the ropes that tied me to the chair. It was no use, the ropes hugged me tighter than a boa constrictor.

She smiled at me, as if she read my thoughts. She reached behind her and showed me the pistol in her hand. "I need you to answer these questions truthfully. A wrong answer and the first bullet goes into your right kneecap, understood?"

I swallowed hard and nodded my head. My hardon had disappeared. I could do with a toilet break right now. "I swear on my dead great grand father's grave, whatever it is you think I did, I didn't do it."

"Well, it's all about what you should have done but didn't do."

"Haa, ok, whatever it is I'm supposed to do, I will do it."

"Too late."

"Too late? What exactly is my offence? I don't even know you."

"Exactly the point, you don't remember me."

I stared at her. Her face, not the red bra. She looked familiar but we definitely have not met one on one. "Okay, okay, what is this all about?"

"Why were you not aroused by my art?"

"Aroused? By your bra?"

"Art!!!" She aimed the pistol at my knee.

"Wait, wait. I told you I forget things easily. Immediately you said art, I forgot and thought you said bra."

She smiled. But her eyes were cold. "You think this is a joke."

"Joke? I don't joke with a beautiful angry woman."

"You think I'm beautiful."

The gun was no longer pointed at my knee. I smiled and nodded. "Gorgeously beautiful."

"Then why were you not aroused by my art?"

"I swear if I had seen you, or your art or bra, or anything that looks like you, I would have been aroused."

"Liar!"

The gun was pointed at my stomach. "Believe me, I don't lie on Sundays."

"Today is Wednesday."

"You mean I've been here since Sunday."

"Apparently the sleeping gas knocked you out completely. You even snored."

I looked around the room. The windows were completely covered up. It was empty except for the stool she sat on and the chair I was tied to. There was a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The floor was covered with black nylon. That wasn't comforting.

I looked back at her. "When did you perform your art?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? You don't even remember it at all."

The chair and I flew backwards and crashed in the wall. Then I heard a loud sound like a firecracker had gone off. I heard a door open and footsteps ran in.

"What did you do? You were not supposed to shoot him." It was a second female voice.

"I thought the gun wasn’t loaded. Besides, he didn’t remember my poetry performance," replied the lady with the red bra.

"That’s because he was not supposed to be there."

"What do you mean he was not supposed to be there? Isn’t he the show promoter that you said was coming for my show?"

"No. He looks like him. But he is just an SIA personnel who probably came into the hall because he was on break."

"Why are you just telling me?"

"I only just noticed it on the CCTV footage. He took off his SIA badge as he entered the hall."

Silence.

"Is he dead?"

The ropes were not hugging me again. The chair was broken. I felt warm, wet and sleepy. I closed my eyes.

Signed

Olumide Holloway (King Olulu).