Patrick Fynn returned to the bedroom with his hairless chest puffing out of his torso. There was an air of satisfaction and pride around him. He smiled at Ummu who lay on the bed with a disappointing look on her face. She did not smile back. She only kept her gaze on the lower body of her man. His pathetic bulanga had returned to factory reset and did not even appear to exist in the tight briefs he wore.
Ummu cast her eyes across the room. It had been turned upside down by the unrestrained lustful passion of the both of them a few minutes ago. The writing desk was bare as all the books were knocked off by her to create room for a table top action. The wall clock was on the floor. It fell when she pushed Patrick to the wall when they first entered the bedroom before launching her first full kiss on him. As for her clothes, they were everywhere. What surprised her the most was her panties hanging on the door knob. How and when she did that, her mind could not recall.
A streak of tear dropped from her eyes. Wait, no. Don’t conclude yet. It was not a tear of shame. It was of regret. For all the energy and sultry craving that went into turning the room upside down that came to nothing. Only those first five minutes of demolishing was worth something. After that, when they moved into the bed for the main action, Chairman General Patrick Fynn was everything less than disappointing. It was all hump hump hump hump and hump till he came, stood up and went into the washroom.
When he returned feeling all accomplished, Ummu was disgusted to say the least. And sad. Yes, sad so she shed a tear. She shed a tear for dreaming and fantasizing about this day for months only to be served two minutes of nothing. She shed a tear for all the effort she spent preparing herself – the shave, the make-up and the hot dress – for nothing. She shed a tear for taking an Uber of GHc 30 to go Patrick’s to meet a soldier who could not stand for more than two minutes.
“What a twerp!” She thought and wipe the tears from her face so he would not see it. He wasn’t even worth it.
“I’m leaving”, she announced getting up, using the bedsheet to cover her body and picking up her clothing from the floor.
Patrick rose and also cast his eyes across the room in search of his jeans trouser. He found it and emptied the pockets for his wallet. He opened it to expose the one five cedi note in it. He turned to Ummu, wearing a sad look on his face, and said, “The fundamentals are weak ooo”.
Ummu who was still looking for her brassiere did not understand what he meant. She turned to look at Patrick who had held up the wallet stacked with complimentary cards and no money for the lady to see.
Ummu’s face turned red. He dropped everything she was holding and the bedsheet that cover her nakedness, walked to Patrick and landed a hefty slap on his face. “Thunder fire you for thinking I will take money from you. Nonsense! What do you even take me for?! Herh! Mtcheeeeew!”
“But… But… But…” Patrick who was still recovering from the slap tried to speak.
“Let another silly comment drop from your mouth and see what I will do to you”, Ummu threatened. “Look for my brassier for me and let me leave. Fool!”
Patrick went on four knees to do as was instructed.
“In fact, stop and listen to me!” Ummu blurted. “Since you brought up fundamentals and weakness, let me tell you that as much as your wallet is weak, which is pitiful, the fundamentals of the okro between your thigh is weaker. And that’s the real issue that must be addressed. That’s what you should apologize for. Wasting my time to come her for nothing, that’s where the problem is! Tell me about weak fundamentals and I will tell you about a bulanga that can’t satisfy!”
Patrick had found the brassiere. He handed it over to the embittered young lady. And did not say another word until she dressed up and walked out on him.