From the stables of our Women are Funny Campaign, we bring you hilarious stories inspired by women’s posts on FK’s internet.

This week’s story was inspired by this tweet about our very own Nigerian Wonder Woman:

Guysssssss😭
I just caught a thief that came to steal from my mom’s shop
Long story short I have tied him and waiting for morning to reach.

— DorisKendris Gallery (@DorisKendris) March 10, 2023

When Mummy Anita left that morning, it was with the promise to do kia kia so that Josephina can return from whence she came.

That was five hours ago.

Josephina didn’t want to be in this shop that was obviously competing with the whole of Lagos for the hottest place on earth.

She could think of a million other ways to spend her time, like picking beans, roaming the streets or dancing on one of those activation trucks.

She couldn’t dance, she hated beans, and the mere thought of breaking her back and acting like they were binding and casting demonic forces from her body was as unappealing as the pepper soup her neighbour had made the day before. Josephina begged her for the soup in the first place, and had returned an empty bowl, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was Mummy Anita had 30 more minutes to return to her shop before Josephina’s own mummy would come looking for her. 

Josephina had spent two extra hours counting tins of milk and Milo before she realised Bobrisky was right, “Good girl no dey pay.” 

She’d started packing things up at the back of the shop when she heard the first sound.

Josephina knew it wasn’t what she thought it was.

But there the sound was again.

Josephina reached behind her and grabbed the stick she remembered seeing there. She knew what it was — a rat, a pesky little rat — but this wasn’t her first rodeo. Her mother called her ogbuoke, the killer of rats.

She was the one they called when they heard rats moving around in the kitchen or saw them flying about the compound. Her father thought it’d be easier to get a dog or cat to deal with their rat issue, once and for all. Josephina considered that an insult. She took her job very seriously, which is why when she heard the third noise, she knew it was time to swing into action.

Josephina tiptoed out the back eyes closed.

She swung the stick at it, HARD, but the sound she heard was definitely not from a rat.

Josephina opened her eyes.

Yes, definitely not a rat. Josephina was staring at a full-grown man clutching his head, a bag overflowing with provisions from the shop over his shoulder.

Josephina didn’t need to be told twice; this was what she’d been training for, long nights creeping behind rats, and this was it, her time to shine.

She hit the man again, and as he bent forward, she threw a wrapper over his head and pounced on him.

Josephina sat on his back, grabbed one of the ropes for sale, unravelling it and tying the unknown man like a rotisserie chicken.

Then she picked her stick off the floor and stood on him like the conqueror of the new world.

Mummy Anita: Josephina. Josephina. Josephina!

Josephina jumped out of her seat, looking around the shop, trying to wipe the sleep out of her eyes.

Mummy Anita: Hope nothing.

Josephina: Ma?

Mummy Anita: Come dey go.

Josephina walked out of the shop groggily. 

Mummy Anita: Thank you, ehn?

Josephina stood in front of the shop, looking around.

Josephina: Na dream?

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From the stables of our Women are Funny Campaign, we bring you hilarious stories inspired by women’s posts on FK’s internet.

Today’s story was inspired by this tweet about the proper way of greeting:

Exactly. Sounds like you’re notifying me of the time of day rather than greeting me. https://t.co/DuSv9kyXCF

— Chioma (@OmaMariia) February 23, 2023

Idorenyen and Kwento have been married for over a year now. If you ask them, they’ll tell you it’s been the best experience of their lives.

Right?

Idonrenyen and Kwento:

It was the weekend, and Idonrenyen and Kwento had plans: lay in each other’s arms and rest from the higi haga of a week they’d had. Everything was going as planned. Idonrenyen was laid up on Kwento’s chest, his fingers running through the spaces between her cornrows… life was good. Great, actually.

Then Idonrenyen remembered.

Idonrenyen always remembers.

Idonrenyen:

Kwento’s senses are sensing ____.

Kwento:

What happened?

Idonrenyen:

She knows what happened. Of course, she knows what happened, but for the perpetrator of the crime to look into her eyes and ask such a question?

Kwento didn’t know it yet, but he was calling for war.

What exactly does this Mile 12 Duke of Hastings know?

Idonrenyen picks up her phone and laptop and leaves the room.

Kwento:

Idonrenyen sits at the dining room table, ignoring the full-grown man following after her like a lost sheep. She sets up a makeshift workstation and turns to him.

Idonrenyen: Do you know I’m a spec?

Kwento:

Idonrenyen: No. Do you know? I don’t think you know.

Kwento: 

Idonrenyen: Kanipe you knew, you wouldn’t be sending me things like…

She opens her phone and shoves it under his nose.

Kwento: 

Idonrenyen: What does that mean?

Kwento: I said, “morning”.

Idonrenyen: Okay, so I don’t have a clock, and I need you to tell me the time of day.

Kwento: 

Idonrenyen: Oya, say it well.

Kwento: 

Idonrenyen: Is it a good morning? Is it a bad morning? Does the morning not know what it wants? Is it a fence-sitting morning?

Kwento: It’s a good morning.

Idonrenyen: So…

Kwento: Good morning.

Idonrenyen: Thank you. Oya, go and send it to me as a text.

Kwento:

Idonrenyen: 

Today’s story was inspired by this tweet about the lack of cash and alternate modes of payment:

Gave my bolt guy two slices of my pizza. Incase transfer no later go, make e use that one see road first

— Chief 🩷 (@BigBadReni) February 23, 2023

Mabel rushes out of the store, hauling grocery bags. She stops short in her tracks, staring at the ride she’d ordered earlier.

She takes a deep breath and walks into the car.

Driver: Sister, good afternoon.

Mabel: Afternoon.

She reaches into her bag and shoves a handful of chinchin into her mouth.

Driver: Can I start the trip?

Mabel nods, and he starts the trip. She wipes her mouth, pulls her phone out of her bag and sends a text.

Mabel takes a peek at the driver.

Mabel closes the chat and tries to open her bank app again, but it doesn’t work. 

She knew what this was. It wasn’t her bank trying to publicly disgrace and humiliate her. 

It was her aunt, her mother’s friend, who’d come to stay with them for a couple of days, but now fills their house address on all forms. 

She was the one to blame for all this. Mabel was on her own when the woman dragged her outside to run errands at the peak of a cash scarcity and general money issues in the country. The second she stepped outside, she knew she was in for it. 

Mabel paid for her ride to the store from the little money she had left in her wallet. She got to the store and proceeded to roam around aimlessly because Aunty Nkechi, who’d built her new home on top of Mummy Mabel’s, kept sending the things she wanted one by one.

Mabel finally got to the till and tried to use her bank card to pay, but it didn’t work. She tried again because what’s the ordinary plastic card in the face of her perseverance?

Her card:

After 30 minutes of standing at the till, looking like a child whose parents had abandoned them, Mabel’s card finally worked, and she made her way out of the store with her tail tucked between her legs.

Now, here she was, thinking of ways to pay for a service…. again.

Driver: Madam, you have cash, abi? I don’t want transfer o.

Mabel: Sir?

She looks in her shopping bag.

Mabel: Oga, I don’t have cash here oo.

Driver:

Mabel pulls out a pack of biscuits and small chops from her bag. 

Mabel: Hold this one for now. When we reach, I’ll see what I can do for you.

Today’s story was inspired by this tweet about skincare not caring at all:

About 50 minutes after applying Altruist sunscreen.

Wahala wahala pic.twitter.com/IMuoJ8gGu7

— A (@risky_meenah) November 26, 2022

Every morning, Sarah wakes up at 5:30, takes a bath for 30 minutes, and spends another 30 doing skincare, then an extra hour getting ready for work and walking to the bus stop.

But this morning was different. 

See, Sarah just got a salary increase, so she’s been upgrading her standard of living to meet said increase. 

She’d decided the pile of skincare products locked away in her drawer wasn’t enough because when your money is now as long as Dangote’s…

It isn’t

…it’s only right you move like Dangote.

After holding off on her skincare haul for the entire weekend and trying to restrain herself from spending more money on skincare, Sarah snuck out of her house at 4:30 p.m. like a konji-afflicted man sneaking out to meet his other family. 

Because the last time she had to explain to her mother why she was spending so much money on skincare products, the woman came back from Lagos Island the next day, with soap that smelt like irú, tied in brown paper and raffia leaves, and cream that looked like they used kerosene to mix it, in a big white container. 

So no, Sarah wasn’t going to take her chances with that woman again, and if it meant promising her good sunscreen to her tyrant younger sister to cover for her with their mother, then so be it.

After a long and stressful day of spending the money she worked for and somehow still finding time for a maiden edition of le tour de Lagos with her friends, Sarah returns to the house, crashing into her bed the second she sees it.

Another unwise decision from her. Without setting an alarm clock the night before, Sarah was bound by laws and forces beyond her control to wake up like a politician with stolen loot under his bed.

Sarah wakes up at 7:30 AM and hurries around the room, gathering everything she’ll need for her day. 

• Waterbottle? Check
• Powerbank? Check
• Power chord to use and wipe her boss’s head in case he gives her work greater than her new salary? Double check.

She gets dressed and begins her skincare ritual, toner, serum, moisturiser. Surprised and confused, she looks through her dresser and begins the search for her sunscreen.

Sarah’s mother walks into the room, equal parts surprised and confused.

Mummy Sarah: Why are you still here?

Sarah doesn’t answer her. Instead, she stares at the bottle in her hand.

Sarah: Is that my sunscreen?

Mummy Sarah: How am I supposed to know?

Sarah takes the bottle from her and finds it empty.

Mummy Sarah: Ehn, your sister said you gave her to use. Sorry, sorry, rub normal cream, you hear?

Mummy Sarah drops Sarah’s bottle of body lotion on her bed and leaves the room. 

Sarah looks at the time and shelves her anger for later. She picks up her bag, shoes, and the new bottle of sunscreen she’d bought the day before and rushes out of the house, furiously rubbing it on her face.

She walks into the street, waving down a bike.

Bike man:

Sarah: Bus stop

Bike man: Aunty …

Sarah: I have cash, abeg let’s go.

As the bike speeds through the streets, people turn and stare.

The bike stops at the bus stop, Sarah gets down and hands him the fare.

Bike man: Aunty…

Sarah ignores him and rushes past a conductor and into a bus.

Conductor: Ah

Conductor: Many are mad, few are roaming. Heiss, aunty…

Sarah answers him without looking up from her bag.

Sarah: Oga, I get change.

The woman sitting beside her moves the child in her lap away and taps her.

Sarah: Yes?

She points at Sarah’s face.

Sarah:

The child in the woman’s lap laughs like a Nigerian uncle with endless money.

Child: Aunty you look like ojuju calabar

Sarah:

The woman pulls a mirror out and points it at Sarah’s face.

Conductor: Your face

Sarah’s face: