I went to ShopRite the other day to grab just one or two things, cos nowadays only yah00 boys or ritualists can afford to shop big
I was about to check out when I felt a tap on my shoulder
I turned around to see this young guy with dreadlocks, he looked like he was about to cry and then he said, “Bros, abeg, me and my family never chop for three days. Help us pay for this small thing I buy.”
I looked at his cart and it looked like it could feed an entire village. Different drinks, bread, spaghetti, sardines, cereal, even things I didn’t know people still buy—stacked to the brim.
Wait. Did I hear him right? I looked around, thinking, This guy dey whine me abi?
The audacity of the request rendered me speechless. Then I noticed another guy, holding his phone and pointing it right at us.
I laughed. Of course, pranksters. The camera man was in plain sight making it so easy but I pretended like I didn’t see him
I could already picture myself trending on YouTube later, with the title: “Kind handsome man Pays for Struggling Family, Gets Rewarded!”
I played along, nodding. “No wahala, bros. Go meet the cashier, I go pay.”
I was happy cos I knew they’ll pay for my own back and dash me plenty money. The cashier said everything was 45k. I didn’t panic. After all, they always dash people like 100k for these pranks. Quick math: 100k – 45k = 55k.
Besides there’s no way they won’t return my money and still dash me the 100k
I paid for him. He thanked me and wheeled the cart away
I paid for my own stuff—just 9k—collected my receipt, and waited for the big reveal. You know, the part where they come out with the camera crew, surprise me, and dash me money. I posed small, just in case.
Five minutes passed, nothing. Ten minutes, nada. Maybe they’re just building suspense, I thought.
I started looking around. The so-called camera guy was still there, scrolling on his phone like nothing was happening. So I decided to approach him.
“Oga, you dey okay?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “You go buy anything?”
He looked up, confused. “Yes, but later.”
I didn’t want to seem too eager, so I tried a new approach. “Em, you get money?”
“Yes sir, I get money. Why you ask?”
“I just like helping people. You know, like I helped that other guy.”
“Which guy?” he asked, dead serious.
Ah, this prank don dey take long o.
I laughed, but small confusion don enter. “The one you were filming, na.”
The camera guy blinked. “Has he gone?”
“Has he gone?” I repeated, baffled. Is this part of the script?
Next thing, the guy says, “Oga, I don’t understand o. That guy said he’ll give me 5k if I pretended to film him for 15 minutes.”
Ehn?! Say what?!
“Wait o,” I stammered. “No be your guy be that?!”
“My guy ke? I thought na your guy!”
“My guy how?! Is this a joke?! My 45k, my money!
“Which money?” the guy snapped, grabbing my shirt. “Oga, you better pay me my 5k o! I’ve been following that guy around for 20 minutes, and you’re the only person wey gree talk to am. So you must know him!”
“It’s like God want to punish you!” I screamed at him. I yanked myself free and ran outside, my small ShopRite nylon in hand, looking for the con artist.
But of course, he was nowhere to be found. I turned around, and this use|ess guy was still following me, shouting about his 5k.
One chance!
The End