Everyone is known for something. Everyone.
When it seemed the clock of David, King of Israel was winding down, to check they brought him a PYT. That is pretty, young, thing: if you are still wondering.
When His Majesty, Amor Uno, did nothing, it was agreed that indeed the king was near the grave.
Little wonder Solomon his son, became the legend you know.
Thankfully, my father is not cast in that mould. I should know. I am his son.
Last week, he gave me some money to pay the external exam fees for final year secondary school students.
When through the window, I saw his car drive through the school gate, I knew why.
I packed my bag and went downstairs to meet him. Best to keep this talk in the family.
He fired the first salvo as soon as I was within range, "Come, what happened to your exam fees?"
"I used it, dad."
"Used? Forty thousand?"
"Yes. I played 1.5 odds."
"Have you lost your marbles?"
Dad uses high-falutin words when he's peeved.
"I won 200, 000."
"You mean, you...?"
"Yes dad. I did."
"That's my boy. Have you collected?"
"Was to go there after school."
"Hop in let's go."
That night the minister for education announced an immediate cessation of registration, due to the outbreak of a pandemic.
Those who'd enrolled wrote virtually. The rest of us had to wait eighteen months before we could.
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