There’s me and there’s my guy.
We are friends, although I won’t say we’re of the very good variety, but at least we gist and do all the things that ‘normal’ friends do.

My guy is a good Christian, with full options – born again, tongue speaking, demon binding, spirit filled and sanctified – the whole nine. Me, I smoke (cigarettes only), and drink too (wine and beer). All these I do like an adult with free will, openly, reasonably and within limit, without constituting a nuisance to anyone’s well-being (well, maybe except mine, but that’s another story).

In his eyes, those habits make me Lucifer, or at least a lost soul already judged and hell bound.

Having an opinion is not a crime, so I don’t hold his against him, but that’s not even the point of this story.

Yesterday just before midnight, the crazy heat (PHCN was falling hand as usual) kept me from finding sleep. While seeking distraction, I picked up my phone and fiddled with it for a while. What my friend was listening to caught my attention, especially as it continued even after we’d crossed into Sunday.

Don’t forget I’m the filthy sinner here, the one whose soul is in dire need of salvation. So after he came back from service today, I asked him with an innocent face.
Me: “Dude, abeg can you share what that preacher you were listening to on Bangbus late yesterday night said about Latinas loving BBC?”

Friend: “Erm, err…Cough, stutter. Actually, errmm…”

Me: “Maybe I’m not the only soul catching that flight to hell after all.”



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