I love Múni when I am diddly-sober. But I love her the best when I am slushy and universally drunk. She’s a nude angel with my eyes all glassy and my brain all of a sudden thinking of flying a jet. I love it when she draws me closer to her just to feel my love. Precisely at the time I still exude the strong aroma of Johnny Walker, the pheromone of Creed, and the raw, crazy, animalistic male Ego. Múni usually, lovingly feels me all over and I can’t explain why I gotta wake up with this nagging feeling of inadequacy. As if I were once a village Mugun in a previous, agonious encounter with a veteran, Lagos pickpocket! I am not thoroughly stupid! But how in hell did I wake up with 20K less of the 100K I slept with last night?Wọn tí k’ówó àpò mi! How come is everyone in this household so happy and I am the only one fucked up and curiously pissed?!
Olè ni Múni! Isó inú ẹ̀kú lọrọ ilẹ̀ yi! Ń ó yaa mú mọ́ra ni! Ọtí were tèmi náà mú lànà pọ̀ díẹ̀!