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My younger brother is getting married. I shouldn’t mind but my mind made me mind. It is a thing of joy, his wife was even called Joy. But joy was far from my lips as I forced a smile that was a mile off a smile.

I feel the angst in my stomach rise. Each congratulations from guest, each
shiny parcel of gifts dropped at the couple’s feet, each wade of cash sent on an errand to caress the couple’s body as they sway to “It’s Your Wedding Day” blazing from gigantic speakers, each furrow of smile coupled with deep pangs of laughter, each euphoric display of joy from others didn’t give me joy.

Like a rocket launched, ascending into space the animosity rose in my belly but having no space to vent instead churning in me like a pot of ogbono soup  refusing to roll off the plate.

My eyes roved around the wedding hall, I have become a roaring Lion seeking not just whom but also what to devour. The joy I do not feel, none would feel it, not even Joy herself.

The feelings I have for my brother,  has always been mutual. The head of the serpent and the heel of the Son of man, that mutuality is ours towards one another.

But I had changed, I had become a better person before this ill fated wedding came up. We became as a result of the same spurt of sperm. The same dive from the trough of back scratching, neck biting passion. The same cries from coarse moans of pleasure.  Our heads burst forth from the same dark cave, in quick succession.  Me first, he following with a snap, head touching my feet. And with a stern look on his face, refusing to cry then before bursting into a piercing laughter while I wailed helplessly.

That day it was certain, I was Esau and he was Jacob. Our parents didn’t name us thus, they believe strongly the spiritual implications of names. The destiny of those twin boys the bible have told them. They desired not same for their boys.

I had changed, I had decided to love my brother. To share in his pain, feel his pleasure. At that Countdown to 2015 service my knees knew the ground. My fist clenched tight. gobs of sweat like over ripe mango dropping on an harmattan morning from my skin hit the ground. Tears didn’t escape my eyes, none was left to fall. It was an empty oil well, drained dry to the last droplet.

I prayed that night, I had not prayed such for years. The words that always flee my mouth were arrows of doom aimed at my brother. He was my arch villian. He ought to be vanquished. Life wasn’t life with him alive.

But today I smile in teeth only. My tongue frown, the spittle in my mouth rage with fury. The venom my stomach churn as I watch my brother and his wife dance. All the love I prayed to fill me vanish, hate didn’t need come like a mighty rushing wind.  It rose it’s ugly head from deep within me and knocked the fake love for my brother off it’s perch.

My eyes sweep across the hall, it is an old broom, it knows all the corners.
And as it does a genuine smile sweep across my face, the smile is evil. Beautiful evil is what I want to do. All would grin after am done.

The width of my smile increase, I sashay through the hall. Twisting in wondrous delight as I meandear through the sea of people. Exchange hugs and high fives, a hollow laugh here and there. They need to see me filled with joy, especially Joy, she seemed to derive joy knowing I had no joy in their union.

I get to the couples seat, they are sitting now. Royalty, an entourage of people attend to their heavy need. In the array of stars of well wishers I dig deeper. I had perfected an art, the disappearing act, I know how to slip a camel through a needle’s eye without sweat and with that same ease I slip not one nor two or three but seven tablets of laxative into their glass of wine.

I crush the couple in a tight hug, smack Joy’s jaw with my lips, jab my brother’s shoulder. Fake a genuine smile, an excited yelp. Bellow my approval at a union I strongly disapprove and saunter away the joker’s grin still on my face. Soon the purging shall begin, it would certainly purge out the joy Joy and my brother felt.

PS; How high are you on the jealousy scale?

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