Horseman 2: Aisosceles

Hark, look out

The horseman’s out South

Taking that deathly route

Beneath yonder hooves, tendrils doth sprout

It is @TheVunderkind.


“You see, the isosceles triangle has two sides of equal length, leaving one irregular. It is my firm belief than when the regular has been accounted for, the irregular must now take the centre stage.” —– Aisosceles


It was Yaba market in all its raucous glory.

Right in the middle of the market, amidst the ‘buy ya jenew swade! Very original! Very jenew!’, a young man was having his pocket picked.

If we are to be honest with ourselves, there is nothing extraordinarily eye-popping about having your pocket picked. Many of us have had our pockets picked. I, for example, have once bought N3,000 worth of fufu, although, admittedly, at the time, I thought I was buying an unbelievably cheap phone.

No, there was nothing extraordinary about this man’s pocket being lightened of its burdens.

As the light-fingered thief extracted his hands from the bespectacled young man’s pockets, his heart jumped for a minute, for firmly clamped upon his wrist was the hand of the bespectacled man.

“Wetin you think say you dey do?” asked the eye-glasses.

The thief smiled, and assumed the braggadocio of one caught in the act of trying to steal the baby’s lollypop.

“Yer wallet fall for grand. I don dey run con gif you since,” and he frowned here, to show how hurt he felt at being wordlessly accused of theft.

“Sharrap,” said eye-glasses. “You think say I no cash you?”

The thief frowned. “You jus’ be bad market. Na you go be di fest pesin wey go cansh me. Thank yer luncky stars,” and he made to saunter off.

But eye-glasses’ hand was still firmly gripping his.

“Take,” he said, handing the thief a second wallet. “Na yer own wallet be dat.”

The thief was, understandably and with no pun intended, robbed of speech.

“Wait – you tiff my wallet as I dey try tiff your own?”

Eye-glasses smiled for the first time. “I no be tiff. Anyhow sha, when you wan tiff wallet, you no suppose dey waka with your own wallet for your pocket.”

“Ah,” said the thief. “Ah.”

“Secondly, I see the picture of you and your babe for your wallet. Yes, she dey cheat on you. Na your best friend, Paul, dey do am.”

“How you take kno…?”

But a train was approaching, and amidst the confusion of women yanking their precious bales off the tracks, Eye-glasses was gone.


His name was Aisosceles.

He once told me his name was a portmanteau, a blend he had derived from the words “Aisosa” (his given name) and isosceles, as in the triangle.

I had asked him about his fascination with the isosceles triangle, and he had said, “You see, the isosceles triangle has two sides of equal length, leaving one irregular. It is my firm belief than when the regular has been accounted for, the irregular must now take the centre stage.”

He had an elder brother in jail, whom he rarely visited. That is understandable, of course, once you realize that he had been the one who put his brother in jail.

Aisosceles believed that the world was hinged upon logic, and that when something could not be logically comprehended, one would be wise to flee from it. He described illogic as a house with an unfathomable foundation – the house would constantly shift, settle, leaving its occupants tense and gripped by trepidation because they could not understand nor see what it was that kept the house standing.

Strangely, for one so sworn to logic, Aisosceles was a devout Christian. He once told me, “logic itself is overenthusiastic to show that there is, indeed, a Creator. Look at this place. Look at this place. This is no mistake, my friend. Someone created it all – and that someone is highly intelligent. And you know me by now – I always defer to the higher intellect.”

Aisosceles was my best friend in the world. Bespectacled, thin and with a full head of hair. We were quite the pair – Sherlock Holmes and Watson for the Nigerian people dem.

“I am better than Sherlock Holmes, though,” he had bragged.

“Oh?” I had enquired, humoring him. “What makes you say that?”

“For one, Sherlock relied on Sheer Luck – hence his name. Secondly – and probably my most profound argument here – I am a living, breathing masterpiece of life. Sherlock, on the other hand, was a fictional character.”

Aisosceles was a very interesting man. He was also my best friend.

I say ‘was,’ because Aisosceles is no more. His body is currently at the Modupe Memorial Hospital, undergoing autopsy.

I watched him die. 


44 thoughts on “Horseman 2: Aisosceles

    1. Tbh, there were only two alternatives for me: it was either gonna be either very short (as it is) or long as hell. I, being a lazy piece of ****, chose the former 🙂

      Thanks for reading, fam 😀


  1. What? Died? Justin u should die for this! Another brilliant write up,u should have gotten quite tired of reading that. I’m still holding grudges tho…


  2. Lol. Justin, the end broke my heart. So vague. 😥 (I hope Uluthrix will glue the pieces with part 2)
    I enjoyed it though. Smooth, light and humorous narrative. So much for you being the weak link. 😐


  3. Vundie you’re a pussy and other niggas no it now
    When you make a good character he aint supposed to die (yet)
    Bound to fall from above…
    Uh-huh honey


  4. My chosen appellation for you is “bastard”. Yes. You’re a bastard. This awesome story. You just killed the nigga. Left him in a hospital bed. FOH.

    Still, this is awesome. Can’t wait for the sequels..

    You’re still a bastard.


  5. Na you s’pose dey Modupe Memorial Hospital. How him go just die like that?
    I’ve actually seen a movie with a similiar beginning. TheVunderkindred spirit.


  6. This is the hardest part of reading your posts….I never know what to say….I hate you…And the thief…And aisosa… -_-…I’m not gonna say it was awesome…No….I’ll say it later…When No one is around…When you’re trembling…And I’m. Laughing… And you’re sweating… And…..:D…I Blabber too much…it was good shaaaaa….:)


  7. Damn. Look at all that awesomeness. My niggaa. The stuff you wrote about isoceles, I like. The writer you are is one that awes the mind. I’m here thinking “how does he do that?”. The brilliance of the piece is the reason I’d overlook whatever it is I don’t like about it. All hail the fooked up king vundielolu


  8. May his soul rest in peace,for such a staunch lover of logic am sure in his last moments he would come to realise how illogical logic can be at tyms,being ensared by ‘death’ and all. Good thing he gave room for God,hopefully he is in a place that defies logic. Good post!


  9. See ehn, I don’t even know what to say. I am tired of saying “Awesome!” or other high-praise words. This is wonderful. But like Newt said, you are a bastard. Sucked us in and left us without rope in hand.
    And to think you don’t to make money from writing.

    This is awesome by the way.


  10. Justin, why did you have to abruptly kill off our very own Sherlock Holmes?..

    Cool stuff mahn! Yours is my favorite piece of the four horsemen!. I wouldn’t mind a sequel to this though.. Maybe resurrected magically or something 😉 ;).


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