The lights are off again, it is night, it is wet and the area is silent. I am wearing my favourite cardigan. I have on a pair of rubber shoes and one of my old ripped jeans. I throw the still glowing cigarette stub into the puddle just by me. A surprised frog jumps off the face of the puddle and ripples spread; little waves to the tiny shore on the lip of the puddle where some bacteria husband and wife are probably having a picnic. 

<center>![IMG_20180621_025126_411.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmagR7ADPYdiAd3eyjRyfUwBk2GXq3wxJiWJZXErW9Qdnj/IMG_20180621_025126_411.jpg)</center><center><sub>*[Original photo by John Jason on Unsplash. Editing by me.](https://unsplash.com/photos/99cl-_hPa-0)*</sub></center>

I step into the cold, dip my hands into my jeans' pockets and walk on with purpose. I am going to see for myself what all the noise is all about and fix it for the last time.
***
The road is silent and empty except for some frogs and crickets testing their voices in the chilly air. I walk on with my head bowed, not paying any particular attention to my surroundings. Soon the music hits me. 

The sound seems trapped on the face of the tarred road like the beats were being made on its skin. The vibration travel from the road into my feet and up my bones to my spine and soon I am nodding my head. I keep on walking until I see the lights. 

The place is full, with cars, with beautiful women and rich men. Everything is flashy and everyone seem happy, smiling with white teeth and red lips. The scents of perfume masking stale sweat, the stink of the open drain some metres away and the sweet smell of the rose bush that tangled around the fence fills my nose.

I stop, stand in the shadows across the road and peer through the gate, my head still nodding to the beat. **So this is how the other side lives? I can get used to this.** I smile. 

A couple launch like a broken rocket out of the gate into the street. The lady falls on the ground and the man bursts into laughter. He picks a cigarette from his pack and lights while the lady wobbles to her feet by herself. She is laughing too. 

A car light shines on them and I see that the lady has a cut on her forehead that was bleeding, just then, the car fly passed and splashes water on the lady and the man. The lady bursts into laughter, pointing at the man's stained clothes. The man does not like this. No, he does not. He drops his wet cigarette and jumps on the woman like a spider. The beating begins. 

I watch them until the sound of a car backfiring drags my attention away from them. I peer into the party and I see panic. People are getting into their cars. Then the car backfires again and I realise that it is not a car backfiring, it's a gun. Someone is shooting a gun. It was time to get involved. I cross the road.
***
<center>![IMG_20180621_030040_183.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmeWNhdBk3S1Ywq1aUjeMey6KT4ZAAXm5vArEmWJKMY2R6/IMG_20180621_030040_183.jpg)</center><center><sub>*[Photo by Dani Ramos on Unsplash. Editing is by me.](https://unsplash.com/photos/HzVnonKUQ-I)*</sub></center>

I first of all, stop by the stoned fool of a man beating up the stoned fool of a woman and I drag him off her. He raises his hands as if to attack me but changes his mind when he sees my face. He is soon down the road, fleeing for his life. Why he is running so hard, I do not know. I ignore the moans of the stoned lady splayed on the floor like a forgotten empty sack and walk pass her, shaking my head at the sight of one of her stretch marked lined tits hanging out like rotting papaya. Bleaching has completed its work here. 
***
I am the only one trying to get in, while everyone is desperately trying to get out. I have to shove, push, punch, kick some pretty dumb sheep before I find my way out of the pandemonium into the compound. The entrance door is open, so I walk in like a guest. 

The sitting room is nearly empty but there are people who are too stoned to move, half sitting, half lying on the sofas scattered all over the place. They are neither here nor there. I do not bother about them as I climb the staircase to the top. I know where I am headed; I have been there before. 

The room is the same. Nothing has been moved out of place or has it? The first difference is my naked daughter crying on the ground, mascara running down her face, her body trembling as she chokes on phlegm and tears. The other difference is my wife standing over the very dead and very naked body of my best friend with a gun gripping both of her hands. 

My wife turns to look at me as soon as I enter the room. She turns away then turns back in shock. I know how I look. Serving ten years in prison would take a toll on any man especially if he was set up. I find a seat and sit. She crumbles right before my eyes, the gun thumping on the rug as she joins her daughter on the floor. 

*"How long have you been out?"* She whispers. 

*"Long enough to know that you deserve what is coming to you."* 

*"He was raping her."* She said.

*"No they were fucking. There's a huge difference but you won't know this as you were busy spending my money."*

She turns to stare at our daughter who has  finally noticed me. Her eyes widens like saucers. I smile at her; 

*"They let you out?"* Her voice trembles 

I nod as I bring a stick of cigarette out of my cigarette pack and light it. I take a long drag and walk up to the half empty bottle of wine sitting on a stool. I find a clean glass and pour myself a drink. 

*"He made me do it, papa. He said if you were out of the way, we could get married."* the little thief said. 

I nod my head as I pour another cup of wine.

*"He loved me papa but mama would not let him alone. She basically threw herself at him at every opportunity."* she continues. 

I nod for the third time and pour the third glass of wine. Then I hand out the glasses and take a seat. My wife is watching me like a hawk,  her hand twisting the hem of her top into knots. I smile sadly. To think that I used to love them. 

*"where is the key, Afoke?"* I ask. 

She glances sharply at me, licks her lips, then darts her eyes to the body on the bed. Her shoulders slumps and she removes a chain from her neck and flings it at me. I catch it before it completes its tumble and stare at it. 

*"what is the key for anyways? I could not find any box that had a lock that fitted it."* my wife says. 

*"I know you tried hard, my darling wife."* I reply,  standing up. 

I toss the cigarette stub on the dead body and turn to go. 

*"You are going to leave us like this?"* She asks, surprised. 

*"But darling, I only came for the money."* I reply, mimicking her very words ten years ago, as I step out of the room. 

I am gone by the time the police arrive. Karma is a bitch in ripped jeans and rubber shoes. Who would have thought. Lol. 
***
<center>***©warpedpoetic, 2018.***</center>