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Storytime. So, back in March, I was tired as shit of America. I was dealing with a lot of niggery on multiple fronts, and then coronavirus started becoming a real thing too. When I made the executive decision that I wasn't going into the office anymore, I decided to head to Naij.
I booked a flight for a few days later, got my life together, and roll bounced to Lagos.
I got here 3 days before they closed the borders up. International airport closed a couple days later. Looked like I was here for the long haul.
I mean, at this point, it was like 20 cases of rona in the whole Nigeria, meanwhile America didn't know its ass from its nostrils and kids were licking toilet seats. So being "stuck" in Nigeria was a serious whatever to me.
I've lived in other countries before. Plus I'm here with family. So I'm extra fine. I just started getting settled and living life.
So I'm getting comfortable. Living life here. Learning which supermarkets carry the things I like. Having dance parties with my family I stay with on Friday nights. Perfecting my homemade quesadilla.
Now, Lagos is a big ass city. And I don't like to be on that whole "Africa is so wild and different from the WEST" P, so I try to approach it like other big cities. But some shit really ain't the same.
I did, however, grow up in Savannah GA, so I know anout weird country city shit. Like chickens. In the city. Makin noise.

Now, let's introduce my archnemesis. We'll call him Roo-boy. He is....was....a rooster that lived in the hood apartment block next to our building.
When I FIRST FIRST heard Roo-boy, it was a normalish time of morning and I was slightly entertained. Like oh okay, someone got a rooster just in the middle of Ikoyi like that. Huh.
Then I started waking up at 4:42 am like....what thee FUCK is that noise....?
Now....I have known other roosters. Like I said, I grew up in Georgia. But I ain't never in my whole country ass life, encountered no shit like this broke ass Rooster, Roo-boy.
When I say that this nigga Roo-boy AWOKE at 4:37 every morning and started hollerin for the next 12 hours straight, I am not exaggerating for clout. There was not a morning nor a nap that this nigga didn't disturb.
I started waking up and just looking out the window at this nigga Roo-boy as he walked around this abandoned building yard where he hung out, just hollerin and screamin like a whole crackhead.
Roo-boy started entering my dreams with that loud ass crowing. I'd wake up feeling like Roo-boy was literally in the room with me. Check the time. It would be 5:12 am.
Now, I know it's a lot of shit going on in the world. Niggas dying every day B. World on lockdown. Economies tanking. Lives changing.

So I'm tryna keep perspective.

But however this Roo-boy is terrorizing me day and night with his nonstop cockadoodledooing.
One day, I'm sittin at the dinner table and just ruminating on the challenges I'm facing in life. Stuck in a foreign country. Work starting to pile up. Business I launched is going thru changes. Store ran out of sundried tomatoes.

But most pressing on my mind is Roo-boy ass.
Then I looked over at a bowl of chicken vindaloo we ordered and it hit me.
Roo-boy was finna GET it.
So I call the steward over. Start askin him about the price of chicken. Whole chicken. Live chicken. Whole live male chicken.
I start describing Roo-boy to him and ask him to go find the owner and get a price. How much is it going to cost me to bring Roo-boy into my possession?

Not dollars. Naira. So just over $20.

If you're wondering at this point did I put a hit out on a fucking chicken, the answer is yes. Yes the fuck I did.
So fast forward like a day and a half to yesterday, when I get out the shower. I'm putting on my ivory butter from @AramiEssentials feeling all luxurious and happy, and who starts hoopin and hollerin?

Dassit. I'm at the end of my rope.
So I called the steward and dashed him the 8.5k. Told him go secure the fuckin chicken.
About an hour later, he back. And guess who wit him?

[Real life footages. Proceed with caution.]
As for me. I am READY. Feelin like a real mafia boss.
So I got my glass of rosé and we go to the staff quarters with Roo-boy in the bag. This nigga is cluckin all nervous like he KNOWS what's about to go down. I'm like....don't be all quiet now Roo-boy. You had a lot to say in the streets at 4:56 every morning.
Then I gave the word.

I asked if Roo-boy had any last words. It was only right.

This nigga looked me in my eyes. I looked back. We stared at each other for a good lil minute.
Then my man's Roo-boy started to amp up and prepare to give his last cockadoodle fucking doo.

Not on my watch. This ain't no damn Marvel movie.
Bye Roo-boy.

Hello stew.
Now, the wild part is, I don't even eat chicken. I'm pescatarian. Not to be confused with Presbyterian.

I ain't been responsible for a chicken death in over a decade.

But it's the principle of the thing.
So, dinner this weekend?
Meanwhile, I just woke up at 8 somethin on the lovely Saturday morning and I was like "you hear that?"


Apparently I'm supposed to shout myself on threads like this. In addition to being a cold-blooded chicken assasin, I also stan for Black people things. Follow @theNileList and check out for easy access to #Blackowned online shopping.
And just in case y'all need more footages....


This is Roo-boy chillin in my freezer, anxiously awaiting a stew. It's a cold world for him fa real. 🤣
Chapter II: Tha Block is Hot

Y'all not gone believe this shit right here. Or, you probably will considering that some of my TL called it quick fast.


However, my reputation apparently precedes me.

That chicken hasn't made a goddamn sound since he's been out there. He's out there walkin around extra quiet.
So, we're off to a good start. 😉
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