New Defense Minister Better Have Plan To Combat Zombie Apocalypse- Minister Of Health

“There are certain things this Administration is concerned about…and one of them is the threat of a zombie apocalypse.”

The Minister of Health has stated that New Minister of Defense, whoever he will be,  better have a plan to combat a zombie apocalypse or risk getting fired just like his predecessor. “And it better be a detailed plan, complete with charts and diagrams and everything,” he told gathered reporters.

He made these statements during a press conference last week. “The simple truth is that there are certain things this administration is very concerned about, and one of them is the threat of a zombie apocalypse.”

Professor Onyebuchi Chukwu went on to explain how he came upon this piece of helpful knowledge. “We were at our last cabinet meeting, deliberating on national issues, forging  the way forward, when my good friend, the Minister of Science and Technology Prof Ita, asked if anyone had seen season 2 of Walking Dead.

“That really got us talking, you know? Elder Godsday wanted to know if it was out already and whether any of us had it there. Luckily, the Minister of Transport, Senator Idris, had it with him on his hard drive. So Godsday was like: why don’t we take a few minutes off to watch a few episodes on the laptop? So we did. We were at that part, I think episode 1 or 2 that part where they got stuck on the highway and the horde of zombies came passing by, when the President walked in and asked what was going on. We told him and his face fell with disappointment. How could we, he asked, be spending time watching movies when as a nation, we had done nothing to prepare for a zombie apocalypse?

“So we all gathered round and began to brainstorm. First we’d need to cart away the country’s resources, but discreetly, so as not to cause panic. Then ensure that roads and other means of transport are a mess in order to slow the spread of the infection.

Former Min of Defense…The man was not prepared.

“At this point, the President asked former Minister of Defense what plans he had put in place. He had none, he said. he wasn’t the Minister for long after that, I tell you,” Said Prof Chukwu, sadly shaking his head.

“Normally,” he added, “this matter wouldn’t concern me. But I feel it is within my purview to lay down certain  ground rules, so that if a zombie apocalypse does happen, we all don’t get carried away.

Number One: Zombies are not allowed to vote during any election or hold public office. It will be up to my department to discern, through careful examination, just which candidate the zombies, en masse, would have voted for, and liaise with INEC to tally the scores accordingly.

Not to be mistaken for a politician.

Number Two: Zombies will be easily identified as quiet, slow, sluggish, brainless and incapable of carrying out the simplest functions effectively. They should not be mistaken  for politicians, who make a lot more noise.

And Finally, People should expect a complete and total shut down of power and water supply at the sign of the first uprising. Those departments have been practicing excellently at that,  I believe.”

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“Wait. Roll that back,” said the President, “What did you just say?”

“I said: Stuff like this happens all the time. There really is no need to worry.” Answered the security chief, Gen. Izim.

“All the time?” queried the President, scratching his head.

“Yes,” affirmed the General with a shake of his head. “It’s a  bit of a bother no doubt, but we have the situation under control.”

“Could you kindly,” said the President, looking distressed, “Go over it one more time?”

“Could you kindly,” said the President, looking distressed, “Go over it one more time?”

“No problem, Sir,” said the General, calmly crossing his legs.”So the Otedola fellow, approached the Secret Service saying he had a way to entrap a high ranking government official, and all they had to do was give him the go ahead. Said he’d have the guy collecting a bribe on video.”

“I get that part,” said the president. “please go on.”

“Well, everything went according to plan. However, no sooner had they gone public with  the news of the scandal than it was revealed that the Lawan guy, who had collected the bribe, was actually working with the EFCC to expose Otedola, whom he said was offering him a bribe. You see, in effect, the two men had unwittingly tried to set each other up and thus committed a comedy of errors.

“But this is not unusual” continued the General quickly,”stuff like this happens all the time. Let me draw your mind back to the sting operation of 2004 in which a certain Governor, of a certain state- I can’t go into names right now, security clearance and all what not- but a certain Governor was accused of gross corruption and mismanagement. Now when the facts were brought to trial, we were shocked but relieved to discover he had been part of a long undercover operation to test whether the anti-corruption officials were efficient in their task of fishing out corrupt politicians.

“Or do you remember the Great Bank Robbery of ’97? In which our security forces followed the robbers still in possession of the loot back to a Senator’s house? He looked quite shocked to see us, but was quick to inform our agents we had merely interupted a safety test run of the bank security systems.

“So you see,” said the General with a smile, “Stuff like this is happening all the time.”

“Oh,” said the President.

“Indeed,” continued the General, “You see, the common man, less enlightened than you and I, thinks these matters are very straightforward and can be solved with the mere application of logic and justice. But not so. In reality this is what the relationship among our secutity forces looks like.” He grabbed a sheet of paper and a box of crayons from the desk and began to draw.

Not drawn to scale

In reality, this is what it looks like..

“This is what the chain of command looks like,” presented the General to the President. “They are always trying to outdo each other, withholding information, sending each other wrong data, sabotaging each other’s offices and plans… all in a general friendly spirit of competition, I assure you, but things tend to get frightfully mixed up.

“I remember once, the Police and Secret Service were hot in pursuit of a most unsavory character, the fiendish Dr. Usman. Fearing they were losing the race, the SS operatives took some time out to break into Police HQ and have some fun with the criminal database. It was good for many laughs. For us of course, not for the poor sops who spent years in prison wrongly arrested.”

“Stop right there,” said the President with a stern frown on his face, “I find that absolutely preposterous!”

The blood left the General’s face and went elsewhere. “What do you mean, Sir?” he asked, shaken.

“I mean to say: that I find it totally ridiculous that the Police could beat the Secret Service in catching anybody. I doubt that could easily happen.”

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Breakfast Briefing

“It’s downright fishy. Something is up. No man can be that satisfied with himself, Sir.”

“What, exactly, are you suggesting?” Asked the President, as he stared at a very unflattering picture of himself in today’s paper.

“No man should be this satisfied with himself sir,” said the aide.

“Sir, i’m not suggesting anything. All I’m trying to say is: is it not the least bit suspicious that a man such as his Excellency Sir, should be found muttering to himself, so often?”

“Hold that thought,” said the President, frowning concernedly, “but who is the cartoonist who made this caricature? I do believe the exaggerated nose was uncalled for. Get him on the phone will you?”

“Very good sir,” said the personal aide, with a hand motion to his own personal aide. “It is being taking care of.”

“Hmmm.” said the president, finally laying the paper aside, “So what is this you are saying?”

“These are the facts of the case sir,” said The Aide, leaning forward, “The other day, I walked into a room and there was the vice president, muttering to himself. “Yes, yes,” he said, “soon i shall have victory.” I heard this before he looked up startled and noticed me. Not only this sir, but yesterday, i found him smiling and rubbing his hands with relish. He was looking at you Sir, from behind a curtain.”

“So?” asked Mr President dubiously.

“And then this morning I stumbled upon him reading a copy of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. He was flipping through the pages with a manic look in his eye.”

“So basically the man is enjoying himself and likes classic literature. You might as well fault me for my astounding good dress sense and knowledge of hats.” Said the President as he lifted a very expensive piece of toast to his mouth, almost as if he intended to eat it.

“Sir in light of your differences…”

“Yes..?” said the president, chewing the piece of toast as if he intended to swallow it.

“In light of recent events…”

“Go on,” The president encouraged.

“Considering the recent catastrophes and calamities we have all endured as a nation…”

“I’m listening,” he said, lifting a cup of coffee as if he intended to drink it.

“I do believe sir, that the Vice President may be plotting to finish…”

“Hello,” said the Vice President walking in at that moment. “Lovely weather we’re having, is it not?”

“Er, ” said the President, glancing suspiciously aside, “If you say so. Although I find early morning thunderstorms a bit daunting, to be honest. But that it is a matter of personal taste and opinion.”

“Ah, “said the Vice President looking out the windows into the dark sheets of falling rain, “This is the sort of atmosphere…The thunder..the clashes of lightning…it goes quite well with what I have in mind. Beware the ides of March, and so forth…”

“Enough!” cried the Aide, rising to his feet in righteous indignation, “I will stand no more of this. Confess, Sir, what your sinister plot is! I know you have been up to something! What is it? Confess! Tell all!”

“I fear,” said the Vice President gravely, “that i am discovered. Mr. President, this is what it boils down to. Thrice i have offered you a wrinkly gown, and thrice you have refused. You crushed me then, My president, embarrassed me in front of your aides, their aides, your wife and her aides. There is nothing wrong in having one’s gown a little wrinkled, and I hatched a plot to pay you back. Look within your dresser, and see what i have done!”

The President nodded gravely to his aide, who stepped out of the room. He came back a few minutes later.

“It is true, sir,” he told the President, “he has somehow connived to have all your gowns wrinkled. I do not know how he did it.”

“But why,” asked the President shocked, “how could you do something like this?”

“Remember the party sir? The one we attended 8 months ago? A red tie you said. Wear a red tie. Only for you to turn up in a black bow tie. Looking really good too. Oh i smiled for the cameras, but inside me i burned. I burned. And i have not forgotten. The cut of your suits have always been better than mine. But that day? That was the most unkindest cut of all.”

The Vice President walked toward the door, “And now, that you have a closet full of wrinkly gowns, I ask you: how does it feel?”

The President bowed his head sadly.

“One more thing,” said the Vice President, before stepping out the door, “Yon Cassius,” he said, looking at the Aide, “Yon Cassius hath a lean and hungry look. I wonder, has he had any breakfast?”

And so saying, he stepped out of the door, almost as if he intended to leave the room.

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In shocking news which has left the Aso Rock Security Forces bewildered and reeling from shock, the president’s cabinet has been discovered to be full of idiots.

SS Chief of Operations Officer, General Kalu, released the following statement.

“In a security breach which threatened the very safety of our country, President Goodluck’s Cabinet was discovered, this morning, to be full of idiots.

The cabinet is large oak-paneled double-doored wardrobe, which rests in the official sitting room beside the Oluma Rock painting, and has, for some time, been empty.

In fact, it has been locked. I know this because at the last Independence Day Party, I tried to hide in there during the Hide and Seek exercise and could not gain access.

I later hid at the end of the hallway behind the potted ferns. This was not very comfortable. The distinguished Minister for Petroleum and the Honorable Senator Gandu had already chosen this spot to hide.

By some careful maneuvering, they were able to make room for me. I remember we crouched there for the better part of two hours until the Minister for Education, Mr. Enegbe, grew suspicious and happened upon us.

But I digress. The president’s cabinet, I was saying, is under lock and key. So it was with amazement we received the news that the cleaners had been scared by indistinct mumbling proceeding from it this morning.

As soon as the alarm was raised, the Army Chief, the SS Captain on duty, and myself, all rushed to the scene. We stood there for a minute reconnoitering the premises and making sure all flanks were covered.

Then we cast lots. Fortunately it fell on Captain Chiroma, so he opened up the cabinet and discovered it to be not just empty, but quite full of people.

Further investigation revealed these people to be complete idiots. We questioned them, and I must say we weren’t impressed at all:
They had no idea how to develop the power sector. They had no suggestions as to whether the fuel subsidy would make us look good. They could not even inform us of their thoughts on national security.

All in all, I must say I was a tad disappointed.
The build up had been rather misleadingly exciting.

We have released the poor blundering fools back into the peace and tranquility of the general public with a firm warning not to appear in any TV shows, or make any music.

But this, judging by the what we see today, is a restriction we haven’t been to good at enforcing.

Thank you.”

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ill bliss refuses to be had

"put your hands in the air! and wave em like you jus don't...bother.

Obvious Rhymes still on the Lookout for Illbliss

Obvious Rhymes have confirmed that they are still on the lookout for Nigerian rapper, Illbliss.
“We’ve been conducting this search for quite a while now, ” they said, “It’s been tough and gruelling, we must admit, but we’re not about to give up.”

IllBliss, when interviewed explained that he really doesn’t understand what the fuss is about and plans to keep evading for as long as possible.

“I’m not the kind of guy to just take opportunity in the mouth. I walk my own path. So when an obvious rhyme presents itself, it is only my nature to evade it. Sometimes they’re not even too obvious, but I’ve become really good at sensing them approaching and then dodging.”

The obvious rhymes have on their part, expressed disappointment concerning the rapper’s attitude.
“Will he see no reason?,” they lamented, ” Sometimes he walks right by us and ignores us, just pretends we aren’t there. A couple of years back, we were sure we had him. He was in the studio and we planned to ambush him right there, but by the time we got there, he had vanished. We’re not sure how he does it. Or why. It’s not fair.”

IllBliss remains defiant: “I scoff at them. let them try all they want.
they can run, run as fast as they can,
they can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread fellow.”

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Complaints are emerging across the country about the measures the federal government has put in place to deter criminal activity.

“I’m not sure I’m in support,” complained Mr Ojogbu, a career thief, ” They just made a difficult life even more difficult. Hardly considerate of them, I must say.”

“How are we expected to make a clean get away?” lamented bank robber Chukwudi Jones, “It really is not encouraging at all.”

Minister of Defense, Adetokunbo Kayode, commented on the recent events. “I can honestly say we are pleased with the effects our security measures are having.
It has taken enormous amounts of strategy and manipulation to get us to this point and I must take time to appreciate all those who have been involved.”

The minister then went on to describe the strategy the Government had employed to combat crime.
“After detailed research and analysis, we discovered that two things made crime possible: First is the possibility of a quick escape, and the second is the availability of resources which hoodlums everywhere may exploit.

To counter the first, we asked ourselves one simple question: what is the single most effective way of impeding, or stopping criminals in flight? After much thought, and bearing in mind that most crime-doers use cars to flee police, we decided the only way was to nip them in the bud. If you notice, there is hardly a road in Nigeria without a pot hole of some sort. It is intentional, strategically done to impede, to halt, in summary: to slow any criminals down who are trying to make an escape.” He said, beaming.
“Criminals on the run will find the roads impassable and be swiftly apprehended and forced to face the brute force of the law.”

“The other day, I was speeding away from a crime scene,” complained a disgruntled Mr Danjuma, who steals cars, “I ran into a pot hole and had a flat tire. If the police hadn’t stopped to help me, i daresay I would have still been stuck there, and we would have been unable to continue the car chase.”

The Nigerian Music industry has been the first part of Nigeria to be thrown into utter confusion with the news that Kenny Ogungbe, CEO of Kennis Music plans to release a music album sometime this year.

“Is there any justice in the world?” questioned one passerby who declined to give his name, ” Must I thus be required to live, with this shadow hanging overhead?”

The Nigerian Broadcasting Corporation has encouraged Nigerians to be calm, “We ask people not to resort to violence,” they said, in a signed statement, “We plan to ban the entire album before it hits the light of day.”

Meanwhile, unsettling dread has hit the streets as many Nigerians fear the worst will happen.

Nigerians prepare for the apocalypse the album is expected to spark.

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An angry mob in Makurdi, Benue state has confirmed that it is still on the lookout for local youth, Emmanuel Harris.
The mob, which consists of 23 local residents, confirmed that they were not about to give up anytime soon.

“We will do whatever it takes,” Assured one Mr. Obed, who appeared to be the spokesperson for the group. “I personally have vowed to do whatever it takes to see this thing to it’s end.”

“it’s a simple matter,” commented another participant, “See these youth of nowadays, they have no respect. You can only ignore it so much before it reaches here.” He gestured to his neck. “and I am telling you today, it has reached here.” he said, gesturing to his neck.

Members of the mob related how they had gathered since 8am to ensure justice was meted out on the errant lad.
“We heard the boy has been making disparaging remarks about Fela, he should have some respect. We know for a fact that he said Fela wrote horrible lyrics. Abomination and sacrilege. He must pay,” said Mrs Hannah, who owns a small boutique store.

“Yes, it’s Sunday, and we would all be in church, but that’s just the sacrifice we have to make.” said Mr. Obed, “We mean business and that’s why we’ve come to this beer and pepper soup joint, a strategic location from which we aim to accost the lad.
Our positioning is extremely advantageous,” he said, taking a sip from his beer, “see, from here we can see all the way down this street, and anyone going to the junction must pass through this route.”

Mr Obed affirmed that he and his posse intended to spend the whole day there, if necessary.

“Fela is like an icon. He did many great things. He sang some songs and there are other things he did. So for this boy to say that Fela was a terrible lyricist is absolutely wrong. He must be dealt with,” he added.

“We’ll teach that boy to have respect,” shouted one Mr. Raul, struggling to be heard above the noise of laughter and merriment in the background.

“Our elders have a saying,” said Mr Obed, smacking his lips with relish over the nearly empty bowl of peppersoup, ” as a matter of fact, they have many. But finding one which adequately fits this occasion is a bit hard.”

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#5.3 In which things quickly go awry

it was at that moment, that very precise moment, with my heavy-lidded eyelids drifting closer to each other, with the hot sun over head burning its way into the west, with the sound of cars speeding past me that it began.

And when it did, dear Reader, there was no way to stop it.

It began with the phone call, shattering the muted tones of the conversation in the dream i was having.
“Hello?”I growled, fumbling for my phone.
“Sir,” said the voice at the other end, “This is Officer Ambrose, you must come quickly. There’s been an incident.”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, “An incident you say? Of what sort, and how bad is it? On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate it?”

“Ten being the highest?” he asked.

“Yes, it usually tends to be,” i answered.

“Sir, ” he said, and his voiced dropped to a nervous whisper,”I think you’d better come see for yourself.”


I stopped my car in front of the plaza and got out. Dusk was swiftly approaching, and a chill was inn the air.
I got out and strode purposefully toward the scene. Already, i could see a few police cars parked and a number of officers walking around.
A young lanky officer walked toward me and saluted.
I had no time for such niceties.
“Here what’s all this?” I said, expansively spreading my hands to indicate i was including him, the plaza, the police and any other thing in that general direction in my query.

“Sir,…” was all he managed before he turned aside and retched in the bushes.

“Hmmm…”i said softly and strode toward the building.
Dear Reader, I have walked into many a crime scene before, but the sight that met my eyes was enough to chill the stoutest heart.
There, by the end of the parking lot stood Sgt Ignatius, puffing hard on a cigarette and looking for all the world as if this was the last place he wanted to be. He stood leaning against a pole, looking like someone had punched him in the guts with a loaf of bread.

There, over by the Rapid Response jeep, looking as if he had just discovered the secret to life, and this secret was not particularly cheering news, an officer was doubled over, struggling not to faint. His countenance was as though someone had stabbed him with a very sharp carrot.

There, out of the open doors of the building a policeman came tumbling out, “No more…no more….” he pleaded. he looked as though someone had used boiled corn to brush his teeth.

“Hmmm…”I said, and stepped into the shop, Mal ladan Bureau de Change, the sign said.

I was striding purposefully across the room, but what i saw halted me in my tracks!

Printed on the wall, directly opposite, in large red letters, (capitalized) was one word:


and beneath it was written, in a careful scrawl:

“I like the birds so high.
up in the blue sky.
The wind is blowing by.
I like the birds so high.”

My stomach clenched and i fought to stay upright.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Captain Ojoro.

“Who…?,” I gasped, “Who did this…? Was it…?”
“Yes, ,” he answered gravely, “It is he.”
“But how can you be sure?” I asked.
“He left his calling card, ” he replied.

He handed it to me.

It said:

Dr. Archibong
-call me-

So….the vile, villainous, vindictive and villifying Dr Archibong, had struck again.
This was not the first time our paths had crossed.
I had to stop him.
What if he did something worse??
What if he struck again??
God forbid, but what if he wrote more poetry??

“This is your case,” Capt Ojoro said.

The shock was wearing off and i looked over at him.

“you look good, ” I said suavely.
It was a lie.
he looked like someone had slapped him with leftover beans.

Posted in The Police Diaries | 3 Comments


The avid Reader, whom this is always for, would have observed the quietude which graced our pages over the past few days. This reader, whom is quite intellectual, would have collapsed back in his chair and uttered a cry of despair, asking what was he to do now that the very thing he lived for was no longer there.

Mad with rage and blinded with grief, this loyal, virtuous individual would have driven straight to the nearest cliff and flung himself over it.

Or maybe just have continued his normal everyday life.

It is then, with great joy, and also a great knack for guessing which of our neighbors is wanted by the police, that we present you, the reader, (languishing broken at the bottom of some pit, no doubt, or maybe simply living your normal life) with this opportunity to answer one question:

What’s the news?
Please tell us.

In keeping with our standards, kindly submit a lucid factual, or totally made up account of what you know, or at least suspect is happening around you.

Type this in the comments below, in the manner demonstrated below.

Name: the news
E-mail: or whatever…


Hey, look how cool I am, sending news to mangoseason. Wait till all my friends hear about this!

Thank you.


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#17 The Life and Untimely Death of Solomon Yohanna

(This article contains, briefly, the true story of Solomon Yohanna, writer and Poet extraordinaire. It was written as his reward for placing the 100th comment on Mangoseason.)

Solomon Yohanna was born on the 14th March 1989, a day the doctor remembers as ‘A day like any other day. Quite ordinary, to tell the truth.”

Immediately after his birth, his father was filled with regret.
I should hasten to add that the source of his regret was that at that exact moment he remembered a scathing rebuttal he could have made to an employee at work, during an argument earlier in the day, a remark that would have been quite witty and showed just how clever he (the father) really was. Alas, he had let the moment slip away. he briefly considered making the repartee the next day at work, but discarded the idea.

Not much is known of Solomon’s life between
the ages of 2-3, except the little fact that his father knew all about him.

Friends invited over for dinner would sit in silence while Solomon’s father would assure them his son was going to be a mountain climber
“I saw him staring up at the table top with a mean look in his eye and I just knew.’ his father would say,
“My son will definitely be a scientist, I found him playing with a battery.”

As Solomon grew, he developed interest in playing the oboe. Coincidentally, his neighbors developed interests in rather curious behaviors around the same time: throwing rocks over the fence into the Yohanna’s compound, for example.
Undaunted, the boy kept at it until a group of desperate neighbors ambushed him on his way back from school, snatched his oboe and stung him with a bee.
It turns out he was allergic, and spent the next 3 days in the hospital.
“He promised not to sue us, if we’d let the boy pursue his dreams without interference,’ recounts Mr. Chiroma, “What can I say? We were young and we were foolish, heck i was only 37 at the time. We compromised. We relented. We shouldn’t have.”

After recovery, Solomon gave up the oboe, and began to manipulate the one thing thy could never take from him: his voice.

“‘There’s only so much a man can take,’ I remember saying that the day we moved out of the neighborhood, ” reminisced Mr. Chiroma.

By the time he was 11, Solomon had gained entrance into a boarding school, the youngest ever to have done so from his town.
The next six years of his life were uneventful.

As University days drew closer, Solomon could often be seen talking to himself.
“What shall I be?” he would question wisely.
“What, pray tell, is the meaning of life?”
“To be, or not to be, is that a question?” he would ask his friends who by this time were sound asleep.

It was questions like these, which started him upon the path to seek knowledge and express the same wherever he found it. It was not long before he found poetry, and despite several interventions, wrote his first poem containing the epic and unforgettable line:

“Hark hark, do the dogs bark? Are the beggars coming to town?”

Solomon’s poetry covered many areas of life, his passions, surfaced repeatedly in his verse.

“The ball went soaring o’er his head
and into the net.
I looked up in the sky and saw
a highly flying jet.”
(Practical Verses, Vol 1)

Am excerpt from ‘My Inner Mind’ shows the depth and seriousness which characterized his work.

“Oh doggy dog, so starved and lean
oh mangy, tired mongrel.
I don’t know why you are so mean.
El hombre, are you hungrel?”

Solomon repeatedly displayed his refusal to shy away from important social issues.

“I shall not shy away
from social issues today.”
(More of Me, Vol 1)

“I refuse to ignore
social issues of the poor like war.”
(More of Me Vol 2)

and the pithy, almost ethereal lines found in More of Me Vol 3:

“I shall not shy away from social issues
Prisons make me cry, and cells make tissues”

for which he received the National Laureate Award and International Fame.

By the time he was fifty, Solomon had garnered acclaim as a poet of note and distinction. However, the loss of his childhood friend filled his verses with a melancholy and dark note.

His final Anthology, ‘A Doornail is Deader Than Thou’, showed how deeply the loss affected him.

“And are you gone, gone forever thence?
Or are you hanging around unnoticed like Bruce Willis in Sixth Sense?”

When Solomon was 83, he was out for his daily stroll when he heard a cry for help. Hurrying as fast as age would allow, he discovered a road accident had occurred.
A child was trapped in the flaming car.
Casting caution to the wind, he dove into the flames, and freed the child from the wreckage.
Having saved the child, he found himself trapped by the smoke and flames.

However, people who had arrived at the scene were able to drag him from the car to safety.

Resuscitated, he got up on his feet..

He took a faltering step into the street and was sideswiped by the arriving ambulance.

He was hurriedly attended to.

“He’ll live”, proclaimed the paramedic loudly.

“I’m okay,” Solomon reassured them, “Really, Im fine.”

Just to be sure, the paramedics rushed Solomon to the Hospital
where he was stung by a bee
and died.

Posted in Uncategorized | 13 Comments