CHAPTER THREE
Tunde burst out of the bush like a startled goat.
“Holy Ghost fire!!” he screamed as he tore down the street. “I go read sign next time! I swear!”
Behind him, the Stranger strolled out calmly… before flickering—blinking, as if skipping through space—and appearing just a few steps behind Tunde. “Why the rush?” he called, almost kindly. “Your offering is still warm!”
Tunde ran faster.
He darted around a parked tricycle. The Stranger was suddenly inside it, honking the horn with a wide grin.Tunde yelped and sprinted away, shoes flying off his feet as he ran barefoot.
He dove behind a bench.The Stranger lifted the entire bench with one hand, peering under it.Tunde shrieked like a wounded animal.“Okay okay!! I go clean am!” he babbled while running again. “I go plant flowers! I go build toilet!”
Behind him, the Stranger chuckled. “It’s not that kind of soil, my friend.”
By the time they reached the corner of the lot, Tunde had lost a shoe, a sock, and possibly part of his dignity. He collapsed onto the ground, panting like a chased animal. Sweat drenched him like he had been baptized by fear.
The Stranger stood over him, arms folded behind his back, expression as smooth as polished marble. “What did you learn?” he asked.
Tunde held up an imaginary book and read dramatically from the air. “Lesson One: No peeing on strange land. Lesson Two: No copycat behavior.”
The Stranger nodded, impressed. “And if you forget?”
Tunde clutched his chest. “I swear, I go glue pampers to my skin, boss.”
For the first time, the Stranger smiled warmly. He reached into thin air—literally into nothing, and pulled out a small white handkerchief. He handed it to Tunde.
“For your next emergency,” he said. “It is… blessed.”
Before Tunde could ask what “blessed” meant, the Stranger stepped backward and simply vanished.
No sound. No smoke.
Just… gone.
Tunde blinked. Twice.“Ah!” he gasped. “Na spirit I just chop joke with…”
Tunde shuffled back toward the street like a war survivor returning from the battlefield. He muttered to himself, shaking his head. “I go start NGO,” he said weakly. “Yes. Pee At Home Foundation. Our motto: If e no flush, no go near bush.”
As he passed the sign again, he stopped.
It was no longer faded.
Now it gleamed—lit with bright electronic colors.The message scrolled smoothly:”THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION. GO WITH GRACE AND A STRONG BLADDER.”
Tunde screamed. He didn’t look back.
Shoeless, belt hanging, one sock missing—He sprinted down the road like a man escaping destiny.
THE END
…The Copycat series will be back
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