I can hear the sound of my heavy pants as I sprint through these familiar streets. I am panting like a dog and sprinting like a cheetah and these hefty men pursue me fiercely until I dash into my neighborhood, the street that bears my father's name. They pursue like goats without mind; chasing me through my street, my turf, the street where I grew up earning an honorary degree in mischief while learning the nooks and crannies of every corner.

With the corners of my eyes I notice that a little has changed since my teenage years; The yellow streetlights, the neatly marked tarred road, the covered gutters, some trees, and flowers in front of houses.

Pretty much it.

Everything else is the same.

I dash through, fast, leaping like an antelope with waves of wind whistling in my ears.

I am fast! Because for many years I sprinted with my boys in these streets and emerged the fastest.
In those days we usually settle our differences with hundred meters dashing races. We race over everything, sweets, pizza, smoothies, girls... And I won all of them, especially the girls.

I am losing my pursuers behind me. Their large muscles make them so heavy on the ground that they cannot match my swiftness.

I can hear the sound of the barking of dogs in my neighbors' homes. The dogs are alarmed by the sound they hear so they alert their owners with aggressive barks.

My neighborhood has a tradition of dog breeding, they take pride and pleasure in raising the most aggressive dogs. I know them too well.

So I begin to shout out loud through the night with my feet eating every inch of the coal star with long strides:

"Ole!"Ole! Ole buruku!" (thief! Theif! Big thieves!)

This is the only patriotic act that my whole neighborhood enjoys, the only other event that brings them together apart from the World cup; The catching up of thieves.

They love it! They enjoyed it! And that is why they have those deadly breeds of dogs in their homes.
My neighborhood has a tradition of catching thieves and tidying them up after beating them up, before submitting them to the police department. They take pride in it and boast about who made the cleverest move during the chase for months, if not years. That person becomes the hero and talks of the neighborhood.

What an honor!

"Onye oshi! Onye oshi!" (Thief! Thief!) I keep shouting, translating it to the other local language.

The next thing, I hear is as voices begin to respond to my shouts from somewhere within the houses. I hear a scurry;

"Ole!"Ole!" Voices respond as I dash across houses along the long and straight road with these well-fed men pursuing me.

However, I sight two big rottweiler dogs at a good distance in front of me. They are security dogs and they get alarmed because I am running fiercely towards them so they charge towards me with their eyes reflecting yellow rays of light through the night.

No, not these devils.

I try my best to screech to a halt but then I slip and land with my butt on the hard coal-tarred ground!

Ouch!

The tingling-sweet pain forces my eyes to get smarter with tears.

I know adults don't cry! But bitch, it hurts!

I see that I am in a helpless situation because the macho men are after me from behind while these devilish dogs are before me. Everyone is after my ass.

Oh, Gawd!

I suddenly find myself on my knees begging the approaching dogs with teary eyes;

"Please, daddy, please baby boy... it's not me, it's them" I begin to point at the hefty men approaching behind me like a child pointing his offender to his mother.

But when I see that they are still charging towards me nonetheless, I jump to my feet, turn around, and begin to run towards the hefty men, shouting hysterically;

"Don't bite me, oh, don't bite me oh!"

Those men who pursue me are in turn alarmed by my action, they do not see the dogs in that dimness, they only perceive that a thing that would cause me to be so hysterical and run towards my enemies must be as dangerous as danger. They all halt as I approach them, turn around, and begin to run away themselves.

"Wait for me! Please! Help me!" I cry out loud in pursuit of them but they run so fast that their heels touch the back of their heads.

We all run and run as fast as our legs can go until they stop abruptly because my whole neighborhood, small and great, stand before them with their faces fierce in search of justice. They are holding planks of wood, clubs, belts, and of course, kitchen utensils like cooking spoons, frying pans, and stainless trays.

They all stand still staring at themselves intensely when I, who is running from terrifying dogs approaches the scene shouting hysterically!

"Help! Help!"

Until I crash into the figure of a muscular man and down I go, with my butt against the hard ground again.

Ouch!!

I squeeze my face in pain as I have just swallowed a bitter pill of medicine. My butt hurts even more because of the pain from the previous fall.

It hurts so much that I feel like the muscles of my buttocks are being crushed like a slice of bread in the hands of a hungry man so I cannot move an inch again. I just sit still with my mouth agape because the tingling pain I feel renders me speechless.

... Until I hear the sound of dogs growling behind me.

Don't get me wrong, I have great respect for dogs.

"Aarrrhh... !" I scream helplessly.

"Aarrrhh... !"My whole neighborhood echoes in response, charging against those hefty men in black with their fierce kitchen utensils.

"Aarrgghhhh" The hefty men cry as they turn around and begin to run away from them so they are not beaten to stupor with kitchen utensils.

I lie prostrate on the ground, using my hands to protect my face from the stampede as both my neighbors and the hefty men make their way across me with their feet stomping on me like I am hay of grass, matching several of my body in several ways that hurt the five sense organs in it.

"Ouch! Ouch!" I cry, cringing in pain.

Until both the healthy men in black, the dogs, and all the people of my neighborhood who came to my rescue are far away from me.

Peace is finally still.

I quickly rise to my feet and begin to hurry towards my father's house, limping and grunting in pain, encouraging myself on and on until I reach the red-colored metal gate and touch the fingerprint sensor beside it. It rolls open paving the way for me into the small compound. I make my way through to the front door.

"Daddy!"Daddy!"I call, banging at the front door with urgency but there is no response.

"Daddy!"I call once more but there is still no response.

This is unlike him, my father had a busy body. He has an excessive compulsive disorder such that he cannot stay at a place for a long time without engaging in an activity. It got so bad that one day he started fanning clothes that have been hung outside under the sun so they can dry faster, all because he ran out of activities. So, it is strange to me that my father won't even answer the door.

Maybe he is asleep. I thought.

I walk across to the side of the house where my room window is located, I slide the glass open and creep into my room. The window is always open because I spoiled both the knob and the inner protector so I could sneak out whenever I wanted as a teenager.

The room is dark and I smell dust and cobwebs from disuse and I pray rats are not part of the party.

"Lights please," I say a voice command, and the yellow lights come on revealing my well-disorganized room.

The room looks like it has not been touched in years, I wonder why my father did not have it cleaned up. However, I do not care as long as I have a roof over my head.

I fall on my bed and dust particles rise from the mattress, I cough, but just then, my glass phone vibrates in my pocket.

"Urgh!"

Grunting in pain, I fight with my pocket until I release the rectangular glass phone only to behold that its glass screen and body have been cracked.

A very expensive phone for that.

The vendor had told me it was a gorilla glass and it never cracks. I sigh in frustration as the cracked glass comes alive when it stares at me and recognizes my face.

Gorilla glass my ass!

"Welcome back Mr. Zach Orji, you have ten missed calls and one new message," It says to me.

My eyes widen in surprise when I see a notification often missed calls and one new text message from 'Annalise Honeypot', my girlfriend.

It says; "Baby I'm sorry. Please pick up, you are trending online..."