Operation Oshogbo

Vunderkind: I first wrote this for boss Damstylee’s blog.  He asked me to write the “Perfect Love Story”, and voila, here it is! Read and you’ll be shocked to find out I can be romantic when I really commit myself to it.

Meanwhile, I copied this Android Sketch app from a friend’s phone today, and I’ve been messing with it throughout today. All illustrations on today’s blog will be courtesy me, via the aid of the wonderful app. I hope you like it. If you don’t, here’s a very photo-realistic sketch of Rihanna I drew for your pleasure:




He stared deeply into her eyes, and they shared a line of communication and understanding.

“E dey pain?” he asked.


“Make I comot am?”

“No, I go manage am so.”

Beneath them, the bed springs creaked.



10:00am. Unknown Location. Status: Debriefing.

“We have intel on Trace,” the commandant said, as soon as they were all seated.

“About time,” Matt groaned. “Where’s he holing up nowadays?”

“In a shack in Osun state.”

Everyone groaned audibly at this.

“Osun state. Seriously?”

“Of all the places in Nigeria…”

“The goat to human ratio there is in favor of the goats.”

“Kogi state is probably better.”

“Please, Jack, don’t insult Kogi state.”

“Or you’ll do what? Make me cry?”

“Nah. I made your mother cry last night – she kept saying too big, too big…”

“You obese motherfucker!”

“Please, I’m not obese. I prefer the word corpulent.


The voice of the commandant cut through the argument, and the two agents who had been about to leap from their desks at each other’s throat fumed uselessly for a few seconds before sitting back down.

The commandant’s huge head swiveled back to the centre of the table. “Trace knows too much about us, and every second he spends alive as a defector exposes us to serious security risks this department is not ready to speculate.”

The room waited. They knew the commandant’s annoying habit of speaking, pausing for effect, and resuming. They waited.

The commandant cleared her throat. “Jack. Matt. Carl. Rick. Alex. You are the only Nigerians on this team, and so you all will be assigned to retrieve Trace – “

“Because we are Nigerians? You racist!”

“Shut up,” the commandant looked flustered. “Are you really as stupid as you look or have you been putting in extra practice lately? This operation is going to take place in Nigeria. Don’t you think it will be a little suspicious if our white guys patrol a shack in Osun? Think,” and she tapped the side of her head with her brand new Tecno F7.



“Commandant – “

“You are so smart. You think of everything!”

“IKR?” she said, batting her eyelashes.

“So, what will the name of the secret operation be called?”

“Operation Find-And-Retrieve-Trace.”


“Totally Lame.”

“What would you prefer then?”

“Operation Oshogbo. You know, because we are going to Oshogbo.”

“Where the goats are more populous than the humans.”

“I know. You said that before. Let it go.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that…it saddens me so.”

The commandant cleared her throat again. “Any questions? Who is the team leader?”

“Matt, naturally. He’s our big boss.”

“AKA Fat, Obese, I-cannot-see-my-preek boss.”

“Heeeyyyy. I’m corpulent, bastards.”

“So that settles it then?” this, from the Commandant.

“I guess.”

“Remember, we are a secret agency. Keyword: secret. You shouldn’t tell anyone about our operations. It jeopardizes our mission.”

At the back, Rick said under his breath fuck this, and deleted an email he was composing titled “Guess who’s going on a Secret Mission, Honey?”

The commandant put on her best deadpan. “Dismissed.”

As the agents filed out, Alex lingered at the door. Something had caught his eye. He turned around to see the commandant snap a pen cleanly in half. Her teeth were clenched.

Damn, he thought, and that was a Leo Smart pen.

But he was worried for other reasons…


Night. Undisclosed location.

The masked intruder paused in front of the door. He was counting under his breath. As he got to the number ten, a sentry came out through a door, and the masked intruder melted into the darkness, sidling away from the sentry’s line of sight. When he had come almost around the sentry, he crouched and stole into the doorway the sentry had just appeared from.

He kept tiptoeing until he got to the elevator. Disregarding it, he took the stairs. Taking it two steps at a time, he kept checking back for a new guard at each level.

He finally got to the door of the room he sought. Rapidly keying in digits he had stolen earlier, he easily entered the room.

He ran to the file cabinet and searched as soundlessly and carefully as he could. He couldn’t rifle through – there must be no sign of his breaking and entering – but he also needed to be done with it in less than four minutes thirty seven seconds, when a new sentry would walk down the hall.

He was in luck. He found the photograph stashed somewhere in-between two boring files he got sleepy reading the titles of.

Pocketing the photograph, he made his way gingerly out of the room.

A week later. 09:00am. Status: Commencement – Operation Oshogbo

”Viper to Mamba. Come in.”

“Why the fuck are you called Viper? It just doesn’t suit you dude.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vipers are wriggly, scaly and disgusting to look at. Oh…Never mind.”

Viper sighed audibly. “Ha-ha. Nice one. Now – report?”

“Subject appears to be static. No movement detected. But of course…” and he snorted.

“What do you see?”

“It’s porn, man. P. O. R. N.”

“What do you mean?”

“The subject is fucking.”

Viper groaned in the parked van down the street. “How come I always get the sucky jobs?”

Meanwhile down the road, Weasel, Lynx and Fox were having coffee and playing cards.

“Weasel. Come in,” Viper called through their audio devices.

“We’re still maintaining status quo. Awaiting deployment.”

“Go in. The subject is defenseless and unguarded. This should be easier than we thought.”

Weasel, Lynx and Fox jogged out of the restaurant without paying and made a beeline for the house.

Within, the man stared into the woman’s eyes, and they shared a line of communication and understanding.

“E dey pain?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Make I comot am?”

“No, I go manage am so.”

That instant, their door was kicked open to show three masked men in suits shouting, “KHONAAAAAA!”

“What is this?” the man asked, tucking in his penis.

“Trace, we have come for you,” Weasel spoke.

Fear and comprehension dawned in Trace’s eyes as Weasel and Fox made a grab for him.

A gun went off, and Fox grabbed his knee. He turned in anger at Lynx, “what the fuck man? You shot me in the knee.”

“I’m sorry. Big mistake. Wrong aim,” and Lynx shot him in the heart. Weasel turned too late – Lynx shot him too, right through the head.

Lynx stared unblinking at Trace and the naked woman.

“There are two others waiting for you outside. Take the backstreet. No one is watching the alley.”

Trace nodded numbly and clambered through the window. The woman was trembling feverishly. Lynx looked at her for one brief moment – and their eyes locked. Then he tore his gaze away and made for the door.

I have to defect too. The commandant will kill me for this, he thought. Running down the corridor, he collided with a stomach and passed out.


Same day. 2:00pm. Location: Commandant’s Office.

A jolt of electricity shocked him awake. He found Viper (Matt), Mamba (Carl) and the commandant staring at him. Matt was brandishing a taser.

“Why did you do it, Lynx?” the commandant asked the instant he opened his eyes.

“Utunu,” he mumbled. The commandant was nonplussed, but Jack was laughing.

“HAHAHAHAHA! Epic. Lynx Utunu. Jollof music. HAHAHAHA Brilliant…uh…ah…” he hurriedly added as he saw the commandant’s murderous look. “Not good. You killed your team mates and let Trace escape. Not good mate.”

“I would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn’t been for that pesky stomach over there,” Alex (Lynx) pointed at Matt.

“HAHAHA, bitches!” Matt yelled.

“Obese bastard.”

“I’m corpulent! Say after me. Cor-pu-lent.”

“Why did you do it, Alex?” the commandant asked again.

Alex coughed lightly before speaking. “I never really liked Trace. Hated him, actually. Arrogant prick. But I couldn’t let you kill him, Commandant.”

“I never said we were going to kill him. We were only going to bring him in – “

“ – And kill him,” Alex winced. He had a headache. “I saw you snap a Leo Smart biro in half after the meeting and I knew you were going to kill him when we brought him in.”

“What? Because I snapped a pen?”

“Yes. Anger. Bitterness. Frustration. The things that can lead you to snap a tough Leo Smart pen easily like that.”

“That was very presumptuous of you!”

“Was I right in my deduction?” Alex asked. “Were you going to kill him?”

“Yes. I’m just shocked you deduced that from my snapping a pen.”

“I’ve been reading this book. How to Read Between the Lines, by Justin Irabor.”

“Nice!” shouted Jack and Matt.

“Sweet! I’ll check the book out on Amazon later,” the commandant grinned, then frowned again. “But why? If you hated him, why did you want him spared?”

“I broke into your office last week, Commandant” – the commandant gasped at this – “and I found out you and Trace had a secret love affair in Poland.” He retrieved the photograph from his breast pocket and showed the guys in the room. “How do they say it? Hell hath no fury like a bitch scorned? Yes. I knew you were so pissed he ditched you for some Osun chick and so you were gonna kill him.”

“Oh. Ah. I see. Yes, I understand, but what is it to you?”

“Well, you guys were so busy gathering intel on Trace and didn’t bother to gather any on his female friend. That woman, you see, has always had a hard time finding love. Trace is the first man who has ever loved her for who she is, and for the first time, she was really, truly, happy.”

“Yes, but – “

“ – As I was saying, if you had done enough research, you would have discovered that this woman’s name is Alexandria.

“Yes, people,” Alex raised his head to stare at them all. “Alexandria is my twin sister.”


Vunderkind’s End note: I don’t really have a book on Amazon titled How to Read Between the Lines.


Photo Credits? Vunderkind 😀


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