Like the man that owns it all, he walks. Like a man that knows it all, he walks. Walking in his long coat well seated on a tie. Shoe knocks the floor sounding like a military drum.
Freeze!!! The policemen shouted like angry men trying to hold down a cow. In a second, black men dressed in black hats, on a black shirts inside a black pants with their funny looking shoes ran after him holding batons and blowing whistles.
Standing under the crowd of these men who happens to surround him with their belly tucked inside a black belt. He reached inside his coat with his left hand, pulled out a 35 mm gun, pointed it at the first man and down he went facing flat on his face. Bending down, while he turns to his right-hand side, right hand went inside the breast side of his coat and a revolver suddenly opened its mouth and another black shirt man went down.
Barton held in hands swung towards him and there a throat was slit with a razor that came from no pocket of his coat. There I stood, I watched mouth wild opened. Who is this mystery man? Where is he from? Four!!! Four men already laid down, and he’s still standing.
Legs carrying men all dressed in blacks left their Barton, running away. Caps flying off with the wind pulling them down from their heads as they run. Down his hand went inside his pants trouser, and he pulled out a sun shade, covering his face in it. So he walked, wind gently blow d cape of his coat as he walked on his fancy Italian shoe.
Looking from where I stand, I can’t help but wonder. There I said to myself, 9ja Police can be funny sha. See them, how I wish someone could see this with me. But wait. Are you sure I’ve not been watching a lot of American Film for my mind to be running this wild?
About The Author
I am a writer from Nigeria. I am a graduate of Mass Communication and I live to write.
(Are you Looking to get your short stories published for free? Kindly use this submission form to stay updated.)