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You have been tapping your keyboard like rain drop tapping the zinc of your grandmother’s hut. You still have three hundred words to write. The two hundred and fifty you have written narrowly qualified as words because they are composed of letters.

You cannot put them together to form a sentence.  Seeing these words in close proximity makes you want to excrete feaces. But this time you don’t want to use your anus. You want your mouth to spew out the shit. You want to splatter it over the excuse of words you have typed. The words are shit, shit on top shit wouldn’t make a difference. It would only mean you have a sewer. The work you have done thus far you know it is a sewer. You do not need someone else to tell you.

You hiss and curse as a fierce fart escaped the fat hole of your anus you had wanted to shit words out. Your nose did not like the smell, they squeeze themselves together in tight embrace with your jaw. Your eyes dim, the odour brings water to them. It suck the saliva from your mouth making your mouth drab and dry like water melon without the water.

You curse again as in your moment of mess induced confusion you have deleted the atrocious legion of words you had managed to choke together. You have not been saving as you typed. Another horrendous mistake you can’t blame on on the horrendous fart that has formatted your already formatted brain.

You hear the beeping,  your mind says just have a peek. Another voice says you should try again yet another yab that you have been trying again. “Are you under trial?” It yab. The voices increase their chatter, the countless muse you have courted and housed in your head. They all want to be heard at the same time.

You finally decide to minimize the MS Word window on your laptop that you cannot put on your lap. If you dare it would iron the jean you wore. The heat your Laptop generates is enough to boil water.

Immediately Google Chrome pops up, the blue Facebook icon smiles at you. You see the 100 hundred facebook notifications you have. Excluding the friend requests. Your body say click your spirit say no, close this thing and write. You have  Five hundred and fifty words to write.

You do not follow your spirit. You click the notifications. You see the comments to your last post. You have countless tags. So you click on, you read tags. You read comments and click like. You smile laugh and type “smh”, you type “why are you like this”, some you grudgingly donate a like. Some you just used a simili because you lack the words to describe the post.

On and on you click, then you stumble on a terrible post. The post that dwarfed the fart from your fat anus. The spikes of your hair rises, the chargers of your spirit got plugged.  Your eyes spark. Your formatted brain sprang into life. You tap you keyboard like a possessed drummer as you post a comment. You hit send.  And wait impatiently patient for a reply.

The reply comes, you did not even finish reading before you type another reply. You have been cladded in your whole armour of war, you are a key board warrior, the words fly from your head to the screen. You do not count them. If you had done, you would have seen they have exceeded seven hundred.

If only you spend the same energy, you spend to look for fights and pelt missles with words online on your writing. Chimamanda would have come crawling to you. But you are a keyboard warrior, you would rather curse and bite rather than write. At least you write, your next post is about the idiot who dared to challenge you. Shallom, you are the real mvp.

PS: your new year resolution, still on track?