My Life As a Fifty Naira Note - Concluding Part

[Excerpt from Part 2: In the beggar’s bowl I at least had fresh air but being crushed between this food vendor’s breasts with her mammary glands pressing on me heavily I wished for the weight of the twenty naira note on me once again. I would happily suffer their company and bear the twenty naira note’s weight on me than this crushing weight that felt like a trailer was over me not to mention the nauseating smell.] To read part two CLICK HERE

I suffered in this condition as she went from street to street hawking her food. I listened from my prison as she boasted to some of her customers that she had the new fifty naira note and is among the first people to own it in the country. I wished throughout the entire period that she would at least bring me out to show off so that I could breathe in fresh air but each time she was asked to show me, she would pat her breasts affectionately and reply in the negative saying she had it hidden somewhere safe. I did not get released from this prison till much later in the evening, when she was home and decided to show me off to her children. They gathered around me where she laid me like a prized treasure and I watched the wonder in all of their faces.

My Life As A Fifty Naira Note - Part Two

[Excerpt from Part 1: After he was done, he picked me up gingerly as if I had some contagious disease and went to dress up. Off we went looking for a beggar to bequeath me to and I cried silently at the slime I felt was crawling over my body.] To read part one CLICK HERE

At last he found his victim, a blind beggar sitting on a side of the street begging for alms. He dumped me brought me out and brought me close to his mouth as he whispered some few more of diabolical gibberish to me before dumping me into the beggar’s bowl. I stared daggers at his retreating figure and if looks could kill, he surely would have dropped dead that instant.

My Life As a Fifty Naira Note - Part One

I lay there in the dark corner of the room, under the bed that creaked loudly every time any human weight rested upon it. The darkness shrouded my dirty, torn, worn and battered body. It was with indifference I watched as the rat seeking food nibbled at a tip of my body trying to figure if I was edible enough to serve as a meal. After satisfying its curiosity that I wasn’t delicious enough a cuisine, it scampered over me at the sound of the door opening, its little rat paws leaving a tear in my already battered body.