My husband

There you are sleeping with your mouth open and making noises like an old bus failing to go into the next gear;

I should have known that the last time I was going to sleep peacefully was the night before the traditional wedding;

I should have been able to see just how ugly you are with those big lizard eyes;

That horrendous pair of ears that look like they can hear the gossip of old women miles away;

How did I miss that forehead that looks like a result of caricature art?

And those pimples all over your dark face that do not go away like a permanent plague;

The beard encroaching your face like stubborn wild weeds in an abandoned garden;

Look at that huge bear belly. I wonder how it feels like to be pregnant for years on end;

What kind of spell was I under when I agreed to be courted by this man let alone marry him?

It must be true what they say about his clan being the inventors of the art of witchcraft;

Suddenly the gorilla turns over and the huge hand lands on my belly;

Good grief! It feels like a whole sack of grain has just gotten me buried under it;

I slowly lift it up. I do not want to be disturbed by the continuous demand for meals just as yet;

Ah but then my luck runs out as he wakes up and catches me looking at him;

He smiles at me and suddenly there is no gorilla in the house;

I completely forget where I was on my mental hate speech;

“I see you were busy admiring this handsome African warrior,” He says proudly yet charmingly;

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I reply before he pulls me towards him and plants a kiss on my lips.

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