Dial - Season 1 - Episode 50

4 years ago

Dial - Season 1 - Episode 50

Today he was not in a smock, surprisingly. He was wearing a white shirt over black trousers.
He looked at me and smiled, his face kind, calm and almost happy, and then he popped the rest of the egg into his mouth and chewed gently.

“Mr. Yao Biko,” he said kindly. “I was expecting you yesterday to honour my daughter, but you didn’t show up, choosing instead to spend time in a church whose members go around showing their vaginas and penises. What were you thinking? If you had chosen a good Bible-believing church I would have known you were serious. But that pus*y church? Come on, give me a break!”
I looked at him, stumped for words. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.
“I didn’t know there were differences between churches, really,” I said desperately, fighting to keep the fear out of my voice. “Please, Nana, I beg of you. Can we go inside and talk?”

He smiled again and shook his head.
“Oh, Mr. Biko, the time to talk is over, surely you know that!” he said calmly. “Akos was buried yesterday, and that effectively seals everything.”

“D--n it, man!” I said, and now the fear was on my face as helpless tears almost came to my eyes. “So what does this mean? You’re going to kill me?”

“That’s preposterous, Mr. Biko!” he said, his voice still calm, but I noticed that his eyes were now cold. “How can I kill you, Mr. Biko? I’m not God, please. I came over yesterday, after the burial, to take the rest of Akos’ things home. I decided to pass by to take my pot and the invitation, since you didn’t honour them.”
“The pot?” I asked, oddly disoriented.
“Yes, Mr. Biko, in the front passenger seat of your car,” he said calmly.
I turned, trembling, and opened the passenger door.

And there was the pot with the envelope in it, right on the seat. I turned and looked at him helplessly. He took a step forward, and then he picked the pot up, turned, opened his back door, and gently placed the pot on the seat.
I shut the door and turned to him, my eyes pleading.
“What now, sir?” I asked softly.
“Oh, nothing much, Mr. Biko,” he said in his infuriatingly clam voice. “Now I’ll take my snake, and then I’ll be on my way.”
I gasped and took a step back.
“Your snake?” I whispered with great terror.

I had always been terrified of snakes.
He smiled gently.
“Yes, in your backseat,” he said. “I sent it to mess you up this morning, because you angered me by going to that butt0ckz church, but I changed my mind. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll take my snake.”
He stepped forward and opened the back door of my car.