Letter From Big Papa
Foreword To This Letter
A few days ago, someone told me they had a story to share and wanted you guys to read it. I have read it, and it is the objectively worst thing I have read in all my years on this planet. And that is impressive, because I have read a lot of horrible things, both in form and subject. Anyway, this person begged, pleaded, and sucked my metaphorical dick endlessly. After hours of debasing themselves in my DMs, I said okay. I will publish your story.
A short bio of the person writing this; he wants to remain anonymous, so he has decided to go by the name Big Papa, in the hopes that this letter and its content will not be traced back to them. Asides from that, I can give you no more information.
Something you ought to know; this excuse of an letter is more than three thousand words long, so you may have to sit down or leave it entirely. I surely would not blame you if you did that. Again, before you start, this is a three thousand word extravaganza of the absolute worst succession of sentences you will ever have the misfortune of reading. I would honestly advise you not to do so. But you are a big boy, and you can do whatever you want, can you not?
LETTER FROM BIG PAPA
Okay, we begin.
If you are getting this letter, then it is too late. All that wants to happen has happened, and I have either been successful with my mission, or I have turned back because Lagos woman dey carry me go where I no know.
This letter is the story of how I went fishing in the waters of Lagos and caught big fish. At this point in the narrative your mind is about to be blown to, I am just back from the first date and my mind, as feeble as it is, is still going gaga from all the wonderments and fantabulousness the city of Lagos has shown me.
Before we begin, I hear that for some reason, people enjoy random imbecilic quotes in this letter. So I will give unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar. I will give you your damned quote. But you will need to open your Bible to read it. Because I know it is gathering dust.
Here it is; Proverbs 20:21.
And remember, this is not just a throw away quote. In fact, it is the moral lesson of this letter and, ultimately, of my many travails in this city of Lagos. Let us begin.
I am not a good person. I am a horrible, no-good, very bad human being. The only Kindness I know is a fellow who happens to be mentally ill. The only Goodness I know is one babe who is very thick. And I literally don’t know any niceness.
Asides from that, I don’t stand out physically, I am not given to a streak of courage or fast wit, I don’t hold any position of great power, I am not tall, and my penis is pretty normal-sized. I am also not rich. By any stretch of the imagination.
Now that you understand my behavior and my peculiar lot in life, perhaps you may be able to understand why my life has turned out to be like this. So there was I, a young boy in the hot city of Lagos, trying to get a sneaky link. Pretty standard stuff, of course. Before this rather extraordinary episode, I’d had the misfortune of trying to link up with a former secondary school classmate.
Unbeknownst to me, she had a legit hookup business going. I might not be the greatest thinker of all time, but I said to myself, why would I do this for little to no breast? Oh, do not be deceived dear reader, I did not back out of the arrangement because I do not like prostitution (after all, the only way I make any sort of income is by prostituting my many mental labors). I backed out because if I were to actually sleep with someone and pay, I would prefer to get my money’s worth.
So I abandoned that, and cast my net further. There are many fishes in the river, they say, and Lagos is actually a river. Therefore, it is the perfect place to catch fish. Well, that is true. But what they don’t tell you is that Lagos fish is fucking expensive. Jesus Christ.
As I was going about my business and casting my net, I met this person and we started talking. I’ll be honest, I was merely carnally attracted to her. When I saw her, I didn’t think of dating her or whatever. I just thought of completely destroying her back as a matter of necessity. Whether or not I can do this does not concern you, and is thankfully not the goal of this letter.
We got talking and she was chill. Not super chill like most people I know. But chill enough to even go out with. And ladies and gentlemen, that is what I decided to do.
First, I did something that I’d learnt from one important shege that I saw in the hands of one woman. What I learnt from that shege-seeing adventure was this; the worst place to be is the friendzone – It is better to blow out early and leave the game than to die in it.
The following parable may be instructive to you if you do not understand my point.
Let us imagine a frog. Let us imagine there is boiling out water out there in the future that the frog must necessarily jump into. This scenario provides us with two possible situations. The first is that the frog jumps into an already boiling water. In this situation, the frog will immediately jump out because it recognizes that it is in a dangerous situation.
In the second situation, the frog enters cold water, and it gradually starts to heat up. In this situation, the frog will get accustomed to the boiling water till the point that it can’t anymore. And then it will be boiled alive, because it won’t be able to jump out.
Here’s the thing; it is better to quickly exit a horrible situation than to sit in it hoping for it to get better. After seeing that particular shege (the nature of which I shall never tell any other soul about) with that particular person, I now waste absolutely no time in telling a woman my intentions with her. For ill or good, her answer then determines whether or not there’s an adventure to be had or the situation is hopeless.
Now, young padawan, you may wonder if this works or not. Dear Big Papa, does this your tactic work, you may ask. My answer to you is this; I don’t know. I don’t meet a lot of people I like and I have only tried it twice before now. So does that mean it does not work? Well, young padawan, the existence of a single black swan disproves the idea that all swans are white. If you don’t get it, you don’t get it.
Anyway, I managed to sneak in my intentions about breaking her back (again, this is simply for promotional purposes. Do not hold me to this promise, generally speaking. Also, my own back is already quite bad because it has been naturally broken by the yoke of pervasive poverty). And she was surprisingly jovial about the whole thing.
Honestly, that should have been the first red flag. But you know what they say; the dawg that will get lost will plug airpods and put on noise cancellation and will not hear the whistle of the hunter. Honestly and truly, I believed I had the dawg in me, but that dawg was about to get stupid lost.
Where was I? So this woman said okay and we spoke for a bit. Then I asked her out. Like to meet. And she said she had no money.
Again, this should have been my second red flag. But the dawg in me was not only listening to music. It was also watching a file named YoungboyFuckEbonyBigBoobTeenRaw.mp4. So it could not hear the whistle of the Hunter.
Okay, you don’t have money? That is but a tiny problem in a sea of issues. No money? Not to worry, big papa got you. He got you b. He got you. Just bring yourself there. Big Papa will sort the rest.
(Big papa was about to find out that Ikeja Along and Ikeja Inside were two similar but distinct places).
Here was the scorecard at this point. I had a potential prospect, she was pretty, she was not completely antagonized by the idea of me taking her to poundtown (despite the fact that it is unclear if I even know the way there or have the means to get there). Also, it seemed I was presently well off financially than her. Which, now that I think of it, should have been awful news. But this damn dawg in me still had those damn AirPods on.
So we met. She came late, as all women do.
Women (tea emoji).
After she came, we decided to go to a somewhat pricey restaurant. How pricey? Well a meal there cost more than the yearly wages of a small Victorian child.
Okay, short segue. Why is it that anytime I order food at any of these pricey restaurants it ends up being something I absolutely detest. I mean, I thought it was impossible to fuck up fried chicken. But apparently, with Lagos restaurants, nothing is impossible. They can do all things through aesthetics and Instagram vibes that strengthens them.
Back to the matter.
We had a pretty good time talking at the restaurant. Again, she seemed super chill. Okay, I might have to admit that I was not looking for red flags. I was just enjoying a nice lunch with a beautiful woman.
As the frog that I am, I didn’t want to waste time. I asked her about her current, how do they call it? Status in terms of genital wrestling. She said she had a guy that she was seeing and she’s been seeing for a long time. I said, okay, that’s cool. This thing does not read. It is not a meter. I support chop make I chop party. That is the beauty of democracy. Everybody can have their say, and it will matter. In other words, egbe kini yi wa. Emi Lokan.
She then said that the only reason that she lasted so much with him was that he was different. That he was him. I asked what made him, him. At this point, I was also thinking that I could be him. I didn’t know that the him she meant was the Himalayas because there was no way an ordinary man was doing what this babe eventually said he was doing.
When I asked what made him, him, she told me that he met some of her bills. My mind first went to Nepa Bill. Given that we pay up to 20k in my house sometimes as Nepa Bill, I was like, wow he’s trying. Nepa is just stealing money. Honestly, that was the first thing that came to my mind. But we shelved that. As we did, all I thought was that okay. This is fair. This is Lagos, and when in Rome you have to do like the Romans. In Lagos, to eat big fish you need to have a big mouth. At the time, I had just gotten paid for a job, so my mouth was big small.
The date proceeded well and ended. Everyone then went home. Before we went home, we even made plans for meeting again. And this time it was at a restaurant where a meal was the yearly wages of two small Victorian children working in a coal mine.
At this point, I was like, okay. After this next date, I will get an answer and we will proceed with what we have come here to do. Oh, what a life and what a thought. Had it been I know.
Anyway, when I got home, I texted her and asked her what she thought about my trip to smashcity proposition (despite the fact that I am 100% not sure of where smashcity is or if it exists). She said she’d given it some thought.
That’s good. Thoughts are good.
But she also needs to know what I thought about her bills proposition. Since her current man paid some of her bills, I should be willing to do that as well.
In my mind, here was what I was thinking; That is but a tiny problem in a sea of issues. No money? Not to worry, big papa got you. He got you b. He got you. Just bring yourself there. Big Papa will sort the rest.
Then I said. You know what. Let me learn a lesson from Elon Musk and do due diligence. What is it? What is the bill?
I have some pieces of equipment to buy for my business, she said.
In my mind, here was what I was thinking; He got you b. He got you. Just bring yourself there. Big Papa will sort the rest.
How much will they cost? I asked.
A hundred thousand she said.
In my mind, here was what I was thinking; Enipe?
But in reality, I laughed my head off. I quickly remove the airpods my dawg was hearing and listened to the whistle of the Hunter. Hundred what? In this economy? Walai if I need hundred thousand and I have the money, I simply cannot give myself. You say wetin?
I’d never had clarity of purpose like that in my life. I quickly told her that my pocket was not cut out for such fantastic games. I was also simultaneously praying to God to help me, so that the money that this babe thought I had I could actually have it.
At this point, that is where the story has ended. But this is showbusiness, and the show can go on at anytime. Let us leave the details of this narrative alone, and let me talk about the lessons I learnt from it.
First off, through all of this, the babe reminded me in a timely fashion that she was not asking for money for sex. I, of course, told her that I understood. What I did understand, though, was that she was asking for money for sex. There are many mental gymnastics many people do to not arrive at this conclusion, but I have been serially called a fat fuck and I don’t have the time or energy for such gymnastics. I agreed with her, though, because that is what you do with women, babies, and autistic men.
The second thing I think is that this scenario, despite being extraordinary to me, is fairly common in Lagos. It happens so regularly that we’ve been desensitized to it. That is why a few people (many of whom are from Lagos), who have labored their thin brain matter up until this point, may wonder why I have written all this down. This is not worth a mention on Elewa’s glorious newsletter, and you are simply just taking up space.
If you are one of such people, I have the honor to tell you that your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of Elderberries. First off, I have the newsletter of this retard called Elewa, and it is filled with nothing but half-baked attempts at satire, half-baked attempts at riling women up, half-baked attempts at being a contrarian and full-baked attempts at being a well-rounded dunce. This letter, despite its banal nature, is without a doubt the best thing this newsletter has ever seen. He should be worshipping me. I am the Tems to his Wizkid. The Buju to his Poe. The Drake to his Lil Wayne. The Kanye to his Jay.
(Ten lines were redacted by me, Elewa, because of their abusive nature and for the respect of my dear readers. They were especially foul)
Now that I have gotten that out of my system, I shall criticize myself, because I am a better critic than anyone else will ever be. The first is what did I expect? Anything less? This is the game, and it is a horrid one. But if one must play it, one must learn the rules and have the means. Currently, I only have a pocket full of Ls and a laptop full of shows I need to catch up on.
Alternatively, one might argue that all I need to do is lie a little, be persistent a little, and I will shape the future outcome of this sorry story into one where I see El Do-SMASH-o. But why would I waste my valuable time doing that? There are many other time-consuming but ultimately fruitless tasks I could be doing. Like reading Elewa’s status, for example. I am not oblivious that there are many men for whom this has become a natural state of things.
All I have to say is that it does not have to be so. If you are going to smash a hooker, smash one. Going through the back and doing all of these things is a waste of everyone’s time.
Ha ha. Going through the back.
Anyway, let’s get a bit heavy. Do I have some blame here? I mean, you could think that I do have some blame, because there is no way in hell I expected to get consent without at least some cost. In some ways, I am not even complaining about the principle of the cost but the degree of it. In that manner, you could even argue that I am not just a hypocrite, I also happen to be a broke one. You could even say, with a high degree of accuracy, that I am not just a broke hypocrite, I also happen to be a whiny broke hypocrite.
Why does he whine on and on about this? Is this not a little bit pathetic?
(It is)
Did he really think he would easily just find someone to do the hanky panky with? That is a bit presumptive, is it not?
These are all questions you might want to ask me. And the answer is yes. But here is the thing. Ansofokinwot? My many terrible troubles are still worth some sympathy, despite the fact that they might have been driven by some delusion on my part. Of course, I am not writing this for sympathy (whatever that could mean in this context). I am writing it because I want to rant, and this newsletter seems to be in need of good quality rants.
And about the money. Honestly? I don’t think I am that broke. I could realistically give her the money. I think losing 100k would not be a catastrophic occurrence for me. But, I think I also underestimated how emotionally demoralizing it is to have to pay for sex. Faced with the decision, I decided that it is not something I would want to do. Under any circumstance.
Now, there are men who would indulge in this. There are many who believe in playing this sorry game, and there are many who are happy with playing it. It is for them that I chose that specific quote for this newsletter. If you still have not gotten around to the gist of the verse, it is simply this; a fool and his money are soon parted. If you are one of them, good for you. While it may be uncomfortable for me to go on with that trade, I see nothing wrong with it outside my own subjective feelings. And I guess they do not really matter in the grand scheme of it.
And that is it. I am done.
(Yikes).