Smoking Father and Defending Daughter

An impatiently standing Fred Ramos hollered at his wife for his delayed stick of Garland Cigarette.
“Already, Helen knows it shouldn’t even be delicious meals first and my Garland, last!”
Really, Ramos could viciously assault her, if he sensed that she had sort of chosen not to keep up with a custom, since he lost his Security’s Job.
“Too bad of you, papa Marcia, “said Helen Ramos upon her reluctant entry into Fred’s presence but her temper prudently not lost. The way you’d yelled and yelled my name and – I’m sure - kicking your legs…
“Yes…” rasped Fred Ramos in a prompting of Helen to complete her unfinished statement and she unflinchingly did.
“I fear, Neighbors might think that I’d been giving to some man or men something completely yours.”
“Shut up!’ fired Fred, who soon asked to be handed by Helen The Date, Day and Hour of The Month and Year he would first eat the meal served by her before smoking two or a stick of his Garland Cigarette”.
“Oh! I’d forgotten your Garland Cigarette,” cried Helen, daring to add “The much-nicer-to-your-lungs-and-health than the stewed rice you’ve overlooked”
Either Fred had not picked the intended sarcasm in Helen’s remark or he had cared little about it. Rather with a menacing index finger pointed at her eyes, Fred wanted her to understand that she could send their Marcia Daughter to Doris’ close-by Kiosk for his Garland stick of Joy and Hopes!
“Sorry, Papa Marcia,” Helen hurried to console her spouse “Mama Doris had left a half hour age, first closing her Kiosk.”
“No! First shutting it down, Helen?” corrected Fred. “Actually sealed forever by our Towns’ Fire-for-Fire Force for illicit sale of Marijuana!”
A helpless Helen could only repeat that Mama Doris’ Kiosk was not open, when she crossed it a half hour ago.
“But don’t we have a daughter you could dispatch to another shop for Garland,” Fred queried with some gruffness. For an answer, Helen with a caring mother’s sighs lamented the longish distance between their building and Mr. Joe’s, whose shop was the next likeliest Tobacco Mall, a smoker of Garland was sure to catch a packet or half.
“Oh! Common… Remember, Marcia’s schools Inter-House Sports Competition is scheduled for next week’s Friday,” said Fred Ramos, for the first time permitting a glow in his eyes and letting his lips sketch a smile. Fred’s wife, Helen, had a look of The Slightly Confused” by a digression and, indeed, could not locate Fred Ramos’ point.
“You know I don’t digress in my speech,” boasted Fred, who soon began to ransack the breast pocket of his shirt for his wristwatch and, finding it, suddenly became interested in what his Marcia Daughter could do with her two legs in a quarter hour between their home and Mr. Joe’s Tobacco Mall.
“Wonderful!
An incredulous- looking Helen could just grasp that Marcia Ramos’ drills against their forthcoming inter-house-sports 400 meter-race had irreversibly begun, Father Fred her Domiciliary Trainer!
Easily, Fred Ramos got into the imperious mood for asking that Marcia be speedily arranged for his Packet of Garland Cigarette. Helen needed no Soothsayer to warn her that she should disappear and, outside, scream Marcia’s First Name or Middle’s and give her the money’s worth for a Packet of Garland Cigarette plus instruction to move at the Speed of Sound Helen’s Third Scream of Marcia produced her on the scene and she was flung at her Father’s Order that she dash to Mr. Joe’s Point of Sale for Tobacco and fetch Garland, preferably before Fifteen Minutes…
And out Marcia dashed towards The Named Mall for The Named Article, her mind preoccupied with nothing but the Glory from a proof of herself on Speed in Emergency Errand… Somehow, The Just-Ingratiated Fred could not help a moment’s honest thinking that Smoking might be, after all, A Self-Given Hundred Lashes of A Strong Cane…
“In point of fact, A Rubbish of a Habit”
But upon Marcia’s return to Fred’s Living Room with the Red-Topped Packet of Garland, Fred’s Faithful Jubilant lips for The Cigarette returned too jutting out! One could see in his pleased eyes feasting on the sight of his Garland new forming doubts about Smokers Being Liable to Die Young as continually warned by The Federal Ministry of Health. Fred Ramos did not know when he grabbed Red Topped Packet in a final drowning of his Smoking Misgivings in The Rekindled Euphoria for Treasured Garland. Fairly enough, Fred did not forget Marcia, Breathless Bearer of his Garland and surely, Newest Discovery in a 400-Metre Dash to and fro a point.
Oh Yes, Daddy, my intention was to move at the speed of a hare and maintain the speed,” said the still-panting Marcia from whom Fred had sincerely sought The Speed of the Animal after initially stating Sound’s. “And - see! – You ended up proving you could from my timing of it!” Fred celebrated. Twelve-Year-Old Marcia was simply A Human Gratitude. Fred had not only praised her Twelve Minutes’ Leg Job but presumed in her favor that, probably, Mr. Joe did not really attend to her with immediacy.
“No, Had had some troubles, Daddy,” Marcia disclosed as what she had truly observed.
“No doubt, his customers had been, in number, like flies!” theorized Fred.
Marcia, by Mother Helen taught to strictly avoid dishonesty could not credit this bogus claim of her father, simply affirming having had her patience stretched for some long seconds by Mr. Joe while groping about his mall and fumbling in his trousers pocket for the rest of her change after releasing her the Packet of Garland.
“And still, Great Daughter, you were back here in a flattering twelve minutes,” cried Fred, all over again holding Marcia like an encircling snake and, this time, getting her to sit on her laps for A Blessing Session that was to seem not like A Normal Father’s. Marcia herself did not believe The Part of Ramos’ Blessing which had her days on Earth lengthened more than A Tortoise and her marriage in her early twenties to unfailingly yield Seven Children all of them, Male! Naturally, Marcia found no reason to mutely reject Fred Ramos’ automatic coronation of her as “Princess” on the strength of her purchase in a record time of Twelve Minutes his choicest cigarette consumable from a roughly four-hundred-meter-away mall.
However, that night, Heroic Marcia had a worried sleep from a dream that was in and out An Ugly one. In that dream – Nay, Nightmare!- she had not only set her school uniform on fire while she still had it on but also razed down to the ground their Junior Secondary’s Classroom Block!
Just what could have been more ironic, for that night Marcia had gone to her five-feet-by-four bed with a toothy smile in slumber still savoring her praised quick purchase of her Father’s Number One Consumable by The Man Himself.
The following day, while getting ready for school, Marcia showed the same reluctance as her Mother had, when Fred Ramos was awkwardly seeking her attention and just like her later complied with The Disliked. But for the fine sprinter she was She would not have, for setting out rather belatedly, surfaced at their School’s Front Gate before their 7:30am Deadline for Punctual Arrival… So, Marcia’s Name would not appear on the shortlist for Latecomers to school that Monday and she release her right or left palm for wasp-sting-sharp six strokes of the cane and, as soon, handed a broom for a long school premises’ sanitation with it.
It was The Sixth Week of their Second Term, First Period Mathematics Class gone and The Second Period’s General Science on The Dangers of Smoking about to be rounded off by Miss Agatha Blue. Already, the dark-haired but fair-skinned teacher had donned the satisfied face of one, who had actualized a rare goal. Still The Trained Teacher in her made her decide to field questions from her students on the topic and, if they should fail to ask one, do so herself. Accordingly, Miss Agatha Blue, Twenty-Eight, was not in a hurry to believe her children in number Twenty-Eight when they uniformly claimed that they understood The Received Lesson. From A Boniface front-sitter, Miss Agatha got candid assurance of full comprehension of the lesson topic as well as his enduring enjoyment of her delicious mimicry of smokers in their act.
“Auntie!” your own merry face while taking long drags at Your Thing and then exhaling The Black Cloud!
Promptly, for this open admission by Boniface Ofieroho, Miss Agatha Blue picked up a prouder face while the smile that lit up the same face broadened, especially as Boniface got more candid on the subject, swearing on it that her mimicry of smokers with cigarettes would elicit applause if not lingered admiration.
Visibly, Miss Agatha was thrilled to hear that she was a Talented Actress voicing this but when it triggered a ripple of laughter from Twenty-Seven Lips out of the Twenty-Eight Lips, she remembered Teachers’ Duty to control their classes and – Yes! – Questions for her children.
“So, Boniface, what does Smoking to The Gums?” Miss Agatha channeled to the Thirteen-Year-Old Male-Sitter in the front.
“Oh! Very simple, Auntie: it blackens The Gums and gets them ready as well to start releasing their teeth.”
A Boniface from head to toe confident that he had correctly answered Miss Agatha’s question! Miss Agatha herself confirmed his assured opinion with An Exclaimed “Wa-ow!. That’s a good one!,” her lips rather pushing out the words while her eye shone a new affection for Bonny!
By resolve now, Miss Agatha started spreading out to the rest of the students with a serialized demand for their responses on the Risks which Cigarette Smokers expose themselves to.
For this, she got A Lung Cancer feedback from Sophia, A Chest Pain’s from Abiodun, Body Tremor from Jessica and Blood-Poisoning from Mord i- all of them glowingly applauded for their efforts by the rest at her instruction. Then came The Rather Nonsensical opinion of an Alexander Ume sitter-in-the-middle that Cigarette equally exposes their smokers to an Off-and-On Malarial Fever.
“I beg your pardon?” asked Miss Agatha Blue, wide-eyed and wondrous. Without warning, Alex’s Classmates had all dissolved in laughter, some holding their heads, others their ribs. Gently, Agatha signaled her wish for silence from Alex’s Classmates but was unable to elicit the sought attention from them, as each one of them was far too absorbed in his or her excitement to heed such a gestured instruction.
No doubt, the situation warranted a Teacher’s Furnace of a Face and Miss Agatha fixed one on hers, when she told The Class for the final time to screen off their not-too-good-looking teeth or face some Six Strokes of her Still-Good Cane.
Only then could the noise die down and needless body movements cease. Satisfied, Miss Agatha turned to Alex with a sincere curiosity about the connection between Smoking and Malaria. A muffled chuckle was risked by a George at the back, his laughing tears hiding by burying his head over his desk. Briefly, Hurt Alexander toyed with the vengeful idea of first letting Miss Agatha Blue know who had just chuckled, then without being asked to stand up did so.
“Well, Auntie, I have a Chain Smoker Uncle who every two weeks had to be treated for severe Malaria…”
“No-No-No” came the dismissing voice of Miss Agatha for spurious ideas. Alexander should now learn to accept that the malarial parasites in his Uncle’s blood stream have developed a resistance to his drugs for their treatment. Miss Agatha Blue would want to believe that the said Uncle of Alex had been solely taking the fluroquinolenes from roadside drug stores.
“No, Auntie, Uncle Prince-Will Masor fancies our Traditional Medicine and prepared them himself with gathered leaves and herbs”
“You see! There, you are!” Miss Agatha flowed like Spring Water.
“Your Uncle Masor should now start giving Orthodox Medicine a try; for his Anti-Malaria: Dihydroartemisinin or Lumefantrine.”
Miss Agatha Blue was doubly sure that Alex’s Uncle’s Sad Story of Two- Weekly Relapses into Malarial Fever Attacks would change for the better.
“Ah! Means, then, I’ll have to tell him, Auntie” Alex piped.
“I think ‘Soonest’ would do him a fat lot of good,” Miss Agatha opined.
Next, an easeful one minute, Miss Agatha Blue basking in a teacher’s sense of achievement from the fullest conviction of having delivered a successful lesson on the Dangers of Cigarette smoking. Then, casually, it occurred to her that in her class there should be a child, two or three with either a father or mother smoker! Finding out which child had such a parent would truly make The Fitting Finale to The Forty-Minute Class.
“Oh! Children, I almost forgot,” Miss Agatha Blue began, “if you know you’re one of those whose fathers or mothers smoke Cigarette or Bigger Cigar, kindly let us know with a raised hand”.
Guarded Laughter! No Child was moved by Miss Agatha’s seeming sincerity to volunteer such information or, in the first place, unlock their now sealed lips. Thrice, Miss Agatha repeated “Class!” and thrice she got from the children “Auntie” but not a syllable more.
“For the last time, Class, if you have a father or, perhaps, mother who blows circles with smoke, please, indicate with a hand or finger”. Again no response, save that a Rachel in front had suddenly begun to whisper something in the ears of Boniface and pointing to Marcia… And Miss Agatha had noticed!
“Yes. The plump girl whispering helpful information to Boniface… What’s your name again? I’ve forgotten”.
Looking up, feeling arrested and slowly standing up, Rachel fully identified herself as Rachel Adirila Inugonum.
“I see…” Miss Agatha first muttered and for a moment was silent. Then, easily she asked to be educated by Rachel on the subject of her whispers to Boniface.
Thunder!
It was a mute Rachel, erect like a statue, unwilling to utter a syllable, waiting to be pardoned and hopefully ordered to reoccupy her seat.
“I figure your father is a chain smoker and you don’t want us to know; when this could be the chance to save his life!”
“Impossible!” Rachel Inugonum just heard herself say and next was trying to make her father out as A Devoted Christian, who would rather he breathed his last then tasted any brand of Cigarette.
“And that’s why you should turn my class into A Whisper Theatre” an upset Agatha snapped or rather one trying to seem so.
Rachel, probably trying to help her case, allowed Miss Agatha to learn that the girl, whom she had looked at and whispered about to Boniface would often surface at a Kiosk next-house for her father’s beloved Garland Cigarette.
“Jesus Christ!” from a greatly shocked Agatha, who could not for the next full three minutes conceive what she should say or do. Within that interval, Rachel Inugonum further openly shared with her audience her knowledge of Marcia’s father occasional battles with Troublesome Cough, even as he was determined to not quit smoking in The Near Future. The Whole Class with Agatha was literally set ablaze by this useful piece of information at the expense of Marcia and her Fred Father. Boniface and the rest were laughing, howling, twittering, hands aflutter, many female legs carelessly spread apart with their owners giggling and the long-laughing fighting for Precious Breath. It took Miss Agatha Blue long minutes to repose her class control. Then, she turned for a lingered glance at Marcia, who instinctively stood up as though for a snap-shot by camera men.
“Marcia Ramos” released Agatha’s cold lips, the pair pronouncing the name without life but Marcia Ramos’ “Auntie” Reply also had no life in it, fully inviting a disturbing silence to the theater.
“Honestly, I want to hear the truth from you,” advised Miss Agatha Blue, her face signaling The Red Danger in non-compliance.
“Does Fred Ramos smoke Cigarette?”
“No, Auntie,” came Marcia’s reply; a bit delayed
“I beg your pardon?
Miss Agatha was wearing the right stern look.
“No, Auntie,” reasserted Marcia.
“Perhaps, Fred Ramos smokes something else. Not cigarette… For example, Marijuana.”
“No, Auntie,” Marcia almost blared, turning to give Rachel a blazing eyeful!
“Then, why did Rachel confidently say that Fred Ramos smokes?” Miss Agatha pressed.
“Because Rachel is a confident liar, Auntie”.
An exploded laughter of the sane effect as the one which Marcia had had to endure. It simply yielded A Furious Rachel, who could not let the matter go.
“Just as your father is a confident smoker of Garland, Idiot!”
A timely intervention in a brewing storm by Miss Agatha with “Not in my class, Rachel!” “You hold your Trading of Abuses, Marcia!”
As promptly, from Rachel, Miss Agatha got “An I’m sorry” Apology but none from Marcia Ramos.” Nonetheless, the twenty-eight year old, fair skinned teacher was not going back on fishing out the truth from Marcia and with that stamping her authority as Class Teacher, if she could not set The Standards for The Child Lover of Lies! As Agatha Blue forged ahead on this, a Braimoh sitter-in-the-middle prophesied failure of her plans to make Marcia own up a cigarette smoking father.
“Maybe, without the pressures of a long cross-examination… But tell me, Braimoh, why you think so”.
This time, Miss Agatha was wearing a scornful look for Braimoh’s visual consumption. This, though, did not deter Braimoh, also another thirteen-year-old like Boniface, from recalling the unpleasant treatment they had received from Marcia for bringing up the subject of her smoking father.
“Wha-at!” from a wide-eyed, also open-mouthed Miss Agatha! She half-circled to face Marcia and doing so sought to know from her if Braimoh’s claims were true. Already, from all sides, Marcia’s Classmates had begun to voice or gesture their agreement with Braimoh on the point.
“But Marcia, lets face it, your father smokes cigarette… Not necessarily The Garland alleged by Rachel”
“No, Auntie, My father hasn’t got the time for any of the brands we know their names or see in shops”
A sudden wave of protesting rejection of Marcia’s Testimony by almost The Whole Class with Rachel Inogonum particularly challenging it by shrieking her shock and stopping her ears. In her frankest voice but chuckling, she supplied to Miss Agatha Blue the total number of years Fred Ramos had kept the company of his Garland Cigarette.
“God knows Auntie, 2023’s July would complete Mr. Ramos’ Thirty Years with Garland Cigarette.
“Holy Je-sus! And I bet Mr. Ramos isn’t up to Sixty… Though had looked nearly Seventy in his last visit to the school!
Now, Marcia was nervous but she still verbally assembled “Auntie, Ignore Jezebel and her Cosmetics!”
“Sh- Sh-Shut Up!” Miss Agatha ordered and meant it “Rachel has delivered” the Truth and you the one weaving stories that won’t save you in the end.
More like her Birthright than less, Miss Agatha asked Marcia for her right palm while straightening herself for Marcia’s receipt of six good strokes from her Still Good Cane…
A pardon-asking face from Marcia Ramos with “Auntie, please” “Auntie wait” but determined withdrawal from a sure-to-hurt upset teacher. Three times, Marcia made a show of going down on her begging knees but with Advancing Miss Agatha Blue quickly retreated to a trusted distance for a start of fresh pleas blended with protests of innocence. Rather than listen to Marcia, Miss Agatha signaled to Boniface to block her escape route, so that she might close in upon her. Sensing capture, Marcia made for their classroom’s exit but was blocked and literally collected by Braimoh and another helping male hand. Fiercely, Marcia fought to disengage self from her two captors, all to no avail. In the end, Miss Agatha had the satisfaction of whipping her and leaving her weeping.
An Inconsolable Marcia, also swearing and ranting, was thrice hushed by Miss Agatha and ordered to repair to her seat. This Marcia readily obeyed but her face buried in her hands. Without exception, Marcia’s Classmates were thrilled by the episode. However, the state of mind of Rachel, who should have been Number One Celebrant was somewhat switching from thrills to a feeling of foreboding she could almost touch like someone by her side! Hopefully, in four hours and a couple of minutes School shall be over for the day…
“And it’ll be over! Funny fear!”
Remarkably, for Rachel Inugonum was not Their School’s Bell Ringer and neither owned a wristwatch; her timing of the rest of The Day’s School Program was a faultless one. At 1:40pm, The Bell for Closure pealed, relaying this information to the school population amidst wild cheers from its recipients. Sometimes, the children’s euphoria, whenever it was rung, became a reason to keep wondering whether The Average School Child really likes Book Work in the first place or does not often see their School Premises as some kind of Prison Yard. On purpose, Marcia Ramos, her school bag in hand, first made it to The School Gate to cross it and stop at a shady corner nearly a hundred yards away. Quite a vantage point for watching, unobserved, movements of school children joyously leaving her premises for their waiting homes. Marcia’s watching face was a grim picture, her eyes terrifying. Two school kids, who had happened to pick her out there, wished they had not and showed this by hastening their steps, one of them from a distance looking back at Marcia to remark her against another possible meeting! In a matter of ten minutes, Rachel Inugonum was within Marcia’s view, a final parting goodbye to her male company, Boniface.
“The Good Lord’s Good Arrangement’ as far as Marcia Ramos was concerned. Prayerfully, she was waiting for Rachel to inch nearer but keep suspecting nothing. And when The-Still-Unsuspecting Rachel did, leaving a few meter’s separation between them, she lunged at her to punch her full in the face, the impact of the blow forcing Rachel to sink on her knees and let out a whine. In no time, it had become a full-blown fight, Marcia hitting and kicking every reachable part of Rachel, the latter frenziedly clawing at the former and anxious to bite her to death. This Marcia could not permit; only compelled to let go of victim. Still, she was as furious as at the beginning, her chest heaving, her heart thumping! Marcia would want Rachel to simply understand that she Rachel would be leaving the scene with only half of her thirty-two teeth! The already-bleeding-in-the-nose Rachel was genuinely scared and sort of suing for sanity, having Marcia’s assaults desorbed as A senseless attack.
“God blast your lips for that!” snarled Marcia and for Rachel foresaw that she would soon be in a dreadful pool of her dreadful blood.
“But I’m beginning to also bleed in the eye,” whimpered Rachel. As she piteously tried to contain the linear red from her nostrils. Sorry for Rachel. A stone-hearted Marcia - Igneous Rock-Hard - had got into the mood for Amazonian Battles with the fullest appetite for wiring punches and collecting opponent’s! Maybe, later, she would explain, together with Rachel, The Genesis of their delivered blows or flippantly let the itchy ears of peacemakers record that she, Marcia, just felt like landing the punches on Rachel and receiving hers!
Through apprehension, Rachel began afresh to worsen matters: told Marcia that she had unfairly let Boniface go home in peace whereas his voice was The Clearly Louder on the subject of Fred Ramos and Cigarettes.
“Oh sorry! It was your voice I chose to pick,” Marcia replied, her own voice coming from the behind clenched teeth. Rachel nearly wanted to shout “injustice!” but settled for The Incredulous Look which faces wear after Displayed Injustice “Marcia.
As faint as my voice was compared to Boniface’s.”
To Marcia, this made no difference. In fact, her ears were more interested in Rachel’s voice, syllables and words…
“Then, you’re personalizing this, Marcia,” complained Rachel.
“Yes. Very eager to witch-hunt just you, replied Marcia immediately…” But God knows that my father’s Nearly Thirty Years’ Smoking Experience was the nastiest of the thing said and heard in that Dirty Lesson of Miss Agatha Blue!
A stepping-back right foot of Rachel Inugonum and “Wait a moment!” Placing a memory-helping hand on her head, Rachel fought to recall her exact remarks some four-and-a-half hours ago: whether she had, indeed, stretched Fred Ramos’ Smoking Experience to Nearly Thirty Years instead of Nearly Thirty Months. Sorely embittered by this drama, Marcia, all over again, broke loose, vengefully landing a clean punch on Brain-Storming Rachel’s head…
Soon, it was a new fight of vice-like grips, violent hand pushes, sneaking-in blows, curses and obvious attempts by two disputing combatants to leave in shreds what some Good Tailors had started and finished nicely!
In the end, Marcia dominated Rachel in the exchanges but was the sadder of the two for her ruined school uniform.
At home, Fred Ramos, back from his fresh, fruitless hunt for a Hotel Security Job was taking long frustrated drags at his Garland Cigarette and making a point of exhaling their smoke through his nostrils. Many times, he had changed his seating postures but at last perching on one arm of one of the chairs with arms. In this new chosen posture his back was directly against the room’s entrance door with all the likelihood that any person opening it would first see him before he did. Twice, without any reason he repositioned his stick of garland, its very tip fixing between his thumb and index finger…
Then, noiselessly, Marcia stepped in for a tip-toe across the room into the inner one. In this, she was nearly successful, her failure from Fred Ramos’ final unplanned turn and glimpse of her disappearing back, in that short moment noticing her badly torn uniform, disheveled hair and dirty look.
“Marcia Ramos!” bellowed Fred Ramos, his eyes chasing after his daughter. A last-minute fall of Marcia’s heart with its matching disappointed look. Tiresomely, Marcia produced herself before Fred while her lips just remembered to manufacture “The Good Afternoon” they should have a half-minute ago for The Man.
“No. you pocket your Good Afternoon and simply tell me who’s standing before me!”
“Daddy, I’m fine,” scrambled Marcia.
“Oh! Shut up for Garland’s sake… I’d said to be sure ‘Which Girl’ is standing before me.”
“But I’m the one, Daddy… Your daughter, Marcia.”
“Not my daughter!”
Fred Ramos was quick to correct Marcia and now standing like one ready to flee from another. As far as he could tell from The Just Seen, Marcia’s school uniform looked Abominable: dirty; on many parts torn! Marcia, already acting The Truly Sorry about her looks, disclosed that she had had to save herself some threatened injuries from A Speeding Motor-Cyclist with a risky jump over an unsealed drain!
“Wha-at! A Motor Cyclist after you?” quizzed Ramos.
“Yes, Daddy. A Motor-Bike Rider, who couldn’t be just patient with a long truck in his front, while I didn’t wish to be crushed.
A Fred Ramos’ Typical Anger Dance-Around! Raining of curses on The Rough Rider and regrets he was not in the vicinity to pick his cycle’s Registration Number and as, importantly, burn a preferred part of the skin of The Cyclist with the lit end of his Garland Cigarette… Though, A Motor Cyclist of her Imagination, Marcia, not completely without a child’s tender feeling, could not bear her imaged pains from a punishing contact between the red glowing tip of her father’s lit Garland ON soft parts of the body of The Fictitious Cyclist.
“What’s that, daughter,” asked Fred Ramos “You’re shaking like a leaf…”
“Ah! Daddy, wouldn’t it terribly hurt him: the red hot tip, of lit garland cigarette on The Cyclists soft skin?”
“Ger-a-way! You’d acted terribly yourself by failing to memorize the Registration Number of The Man’s Motor Cycle… I tell you: you’d bungled everything by that very omission!”
“I’m regretting it, Daddy” admitted a broken Marcia, who felt that she had to promise Fred Ramos that she would not repeat that mistake.
“Shut-up and get out of here! For mistakes know their Makers and are sure to come back to them for another making!”
Daughter was only too happy to obey father’s instruction about leaving but made a secret of this with a face of pallor. Happily, her Helen Mother was not around to squarely take her up on her badly-torn now-unseemly school uniform and she needed nobody to tell her that she should head straight for the closest seamstress and later with crocodile tears report The Bad News plus Stitching Costs.
The following day, Miss Agatha Blue, notebook in hand and ready to commence teaching, noticed Boniface’s pinching of Rachel Inugonum and a gesture to call her own attention and she said to make whatever it was faster.
“Yes, Boniface, your dirty tricks right under my nose haven’t escaped my notice!”
Formally, Miss Agatha asked him what his reasons were for pinching Rachel’s left arm. At first hesitant, Boniface could only say and keep repeating “You see, Auntie…”
“See what?” queried Miss Agatha “Of course, I can see you as well as I do everybody here, my eyesight having not yet begun to fail me.”
Momentarily, Boniface darted a glance at Marcia which Miss Agatha Blue instantly detected.
“Stealing glance at Marcia… Uhn? So, Marcia had something to do with your pinches on Rachel?”
Miss Agatha paused for a reply form Boniface got none from him and chose to be insistent.
Look, Young Man, admit to it, there’s something to get off your chest, of which I might be The One to do so… You speak out it goes. You don’t it stays. You hesitate it Lingers…”
“Er… Yes, Auntie. As a friend of Rachel,” Boniface finally complied “Regrettably, after your punishment of Marcia, yesterday, she pounced on Rachel like A Leopardess. To make her - as she put it - bleed as much as she had in your hands.”
“What-at!” cried Miss Agatha, also turning to look at Marcia searchingly.
Rachel, now emboldened, told Miss Agatha that she would have paid anything to witness the scene, in which she lost much blood to The Leopardess gaining only in cuts and bruises.
“Its okay! For I shall handle The Matter straight away” Miss Agatha assured Rachael, all over again turning to Marcia, this time with a consuming look. Miss Agatha ordered her to step forward before a completed Jack Robinson...
“ Ja-a-ck-“
Jerkily, Marcia Ramos lunged at Miss Agatha some chairs displacing, others overturning, A Catechism of “Auntie Please.” “Please Auntie tumbling out from her trembling lips. A stinging whip-lashing of Marcia’s shoulder, as soon as Miss Agatha Blue could carry it out, Marcia leaving in excruciating pain.
“For your information, I’m not going to ask you whether the allegation is true or not since you’ve contracted the habit of lying… Probably from your Chain Smoker Father”
“A Stop it, Auntie!” from Marcia with A Shocking Authority, soon adding “Enough!”
“My Jee-sus!” exclaimed Miss Agatha, also releasing a louder whack on Marcia’s left shoulder, for which even Boniface shuddered in fellow feeling while Rachel it gave a rare delight. To Marcia pleading for Forgiveness Miss Agatha made clear that Pardon would have to come last while her Disciplining went first… And reaching out fast, she flogged Marcia again, then once more and yet again. Marcia, now with terrified looks, dashed off to a far-off spot of their classroom to nurse her bruises. She was moaning piteously.
“You see… like I’d said I don’t wish to find out from you whether your Classmates had lied against you or not,” Miss Agatha took up afresh. “Now, what I’m asking for are you buttocks: The Two of them!”
Scared-to-death Marcia began to eye the exit door of their classroom, her sense of timing, unusually sharpened. And she bounded forward, running for it with fresh advances by miss Agatha towards her brief refuge; quite sooner than Miss Agatha could order Boniface and Braimoh to intercept her. Marcia had made sure she also crossed The Main Gate of their Rulers Model Academy and paced on, until she found another trusted, shielded corner in her outskirts for a long waiting for School Over and Rachel! But having to idly sit there and wait for the two wearied her after an hour and before another sent her to unwished but helpful sleep; no bag for a pillow because hers she had in the emergency of the moment overlooked.
Three hours later, The School Bell rung to announce End of The Day also ended Marcia’s sleep by waking her up. About this, Marcia was only too happy. She could pick the noises of school children exiting their classrooms and their songs hinting at their delight to set their faces towards Home; one could have rightly guessed: mostly Age-Old Recessional Compositions by The Junior Secondary for themselves and Their Juniors in The Primary. With intent, Marcia had turned a prowler not far away from The Academy’s Main Gate, sighting Rachel Inugonum, her motive. Not long, Boniface and Rachel materialized and she started stalking them, hopefully waiting for the time the two would go their different ways. To turn into A Leopardess for Rachel! And when that point was reached by the two, Rachel was dull-faced, a strange urge to get home as fast as she could all over her.
“Ah! Kick that aside,” said Observant Boniface “This time, you’re as safe as Treasures in Heaven!”
“Oh! How badly I feel unsafe!” admitted Rachel, anxiously asking Boniface if she should really take his comforting words. Boniface, replying to this, placed a reassuring hand on Rachel’s shoulder, voicing his belief that she would make it to their house with as many gaily steps as with long strides.
The Words of Boniface just did The Magic of brightening. Rachel Inugonum up! She could narrate like a funny incident to Boniface her initial misgivings about her safety and how like a flag her once-fainting confidence had begun to fly! With a tender touch on Boniface’s shoulder and “See you, tomorrow,” Rachel turned and trotted off towards home, Marcia Ramos, unobserved, following for a couple of tense minutes. And then when Marcia was too sure of external non-interference she swooped on Rachel, making straight for her right arm to pinion it from behind her, Terrified Rachel also left A Helpless Rachel! Already, Marcia, from her position, could talk to her rudely and attack her as wished, of all punishment preferring clumsily delivered knocks on her head.
“You’re now A Savage, Marcia,” Rachel finally found the voice for this opinion, then tried to break free but without success.
“That way you’ll lose more blood and once again gain more in cuts and bruises,” Marcia warned.
“Oh! The statement I’d made in the morning?” asked Sympathizing Rachel “It has continued to pain you?”
“Nearly made me burst into flames, Rachel! Especially, The Leopardess Name Boniface had offered as help!”
“Oh! Is it? And now you must break my right arm to avenge The Insult!”
“Exactly, Rachel… Exactly!”
Fear-Soaked Rachel warned Marcia that breaking her arm would speedily justify a replacement of her Marcia Name with Leopardess.”
“Shut up,” ordered Marcia, applying greater force to Rachel’s pinioned right arm. “You Rachel were The Wild Leopardess in our fight first, attacking me with your claws and soon Your Merciless Teeth. You! You alone Rachel… The Wild Leopardess. Feeling challenged, Rachel began to make fresh determined attempts to liberate her right arm but when these remained fruitless, began to lecture Marcia on the need to start caring about where certain actions could lead her to.
“Forget it, Rachel!” snapped Marcia “I know I’ll be losing my Admission in Rulers Model Academy. But that would mean gladly losing you too, losing Boniface, losing Braimoh, losing Ruth, losing Jessica, losing Sophia and losing Miss Blue, who hasn’t really met my father but could write pages and pages about My Father and His Smoker’s Appearance”.
“You see my point,” cried Rachel, who could afford to be shaking a head of pity.
Marcia had just crazily chosen to disregard common sense and sure to live, die and rot in a dirty cell if she should fracture her arm or even merely dislocate it.
“Let me see if I can get you to talk in a more pleasant language… You Foul-Mouthed Counselor of Wrong Doers” by A Marcia angered by the last remarks of Rachel and now dishing our humiliating knocks on her head.
Helpless increasing screams of ‘Marcia!’ by Rachel and an advisory warning that she would from there be flung into a cell, if she did not let go of her right arm straight away.
“No, You know it shouldn’t be right-away,” said Marcia, intensifying her grip on Rachel’s arm which forced her to wince in pain and to put up a heroic struggle that sadly dislocated her elbow: the stinging pain from this forcing out fresh screams from Rachel. Sensing what had happened, Marcia promptly dumped her and vanished.
In the end it was not Rachel Inugonum’s either parent but The School Management of Rulers Model Academy Izon that contacted Mr. Fred Ramos for A Chat on A School Matter involving his daughter, Marcia.
At the office of The Director of The Academy, Mr. Fred Ramos was offered a good seat but not a good face by his hostess, while he thankfully received both.
“Our Visitors, Book has information about who you are: Mr. Fred Ramos: Marcia’s Father.”
“Yes… And you, The Director of Rulers Model Academy, Izon?”.
“No. His Assistant,” replied Hostess Camilla Madu, who let some anxious seconds fleet by before raising the subject of Marcia’s refusal to speak The Truth about his being A Cigarette Smoker in what was intended to be an Interesting Lesson on The Dangers of Cigarette Smoking.
“Oh! So, she did, Madam?” Fred could only manage, caging his inner disturbance.
Mrs. Camilla made sure Mr. Fred got no reply to this question, for some long killing seconds studying him and then A Big Sarcastic ‘Thank You’ for the insight he had just given her into how indifferent he could be to a sensitive subject. Simply smiling, Mr. Fred disclosed that he was not the type who easily commented on somebody else’s character by way of An X-ray.
“Madam, rarely does it help a handling of matters” Fred offered sagely. Irritably, Mrs. Camilla wondered aloud what matters were still left for a handling in Marcia’s Case.
“You know, your daughter has just put a Classmate’s elbow in a sling and right now, is the only child in Rulers who resorts to Violence in Grievance.
“What!” exclaimed Fred in true surprise…“I’m just learning of this piece of shock!”
“I don’t disbelieve you, Mr. Fred,” assured Mrs. Camilla. “Probably, you were smoking Your Thing and Marcia couldn’t bring herself to interrupt The Session… Or do you, smokers, take it evenly with people who bog you after you’ve got down on it?”
Holy Jerusalem!
Ramos could have sworn that Mrs. Camilla Madu was out to humiliate him or, worse, force him to behave The Wrong Way or say The Wrong Thing. No doubt. Marcia’s Class Teacher, Miss Agatha Blue had done practically the same to her. First laughing Mr. Fred Ramos tried politely observing that Marci’s Class Teacher might have, hurt Marcia with sore remarks about an aspect of her father’s private life she feared could stigmatize him.
“Then, shall we say, you’ve made up your mind on what had happened.” asked Camilla temptingly “Thus, no need to stretch the subject any further?”
“No, Madam, I’m not forcing my opinion on you, though really very frank it is,” Fred said, by half compromising and by high insistent, firmly holding a proud head.
All these Mrs. Camilla Madu thought Stupid Words and Drama. Not a single member of staff of Rulers Model Academy would in the end shed a single tear, if he burned his Helpless Lungs with Tobacco. It was his daughter’s repeated demonstrations of a will to tell irksome lies that The Rulers School Management found extremely disturbing!
Mrs. Camilla Madu, Assistant Director of Rulers, felt compelled to inform Mr. Fred Ramos of his Daughter’s necessary expulsion from The Academy.
Astonishment in multiples! “A wait-a-minute by Mr. Fred Ramos followed by stammered-out pleas that Marcia be given kind opportunity for A Fresh Beginning. A bringing-into-focus Marcia’s Status as A Kid, whose childish imagination could not but grant that the vice of telling lies could never be as damaging as openly admitting to her father’s Passion for Smoking.
“No-no-no, Mr. Ramos” by a Camilla at her firmest of resolve. “Officially now, in Rulers, Your Daughter, Marcia, is just a one-time school child of hers and importantly, one she was happy to have seen her back.”
The Fred Ramos that walked out of Rulers Academy seemed every inch one that would surely not near his Garland Cigarette either before his delicious meals or after.
“For Nearly Thirty Years feeding my lungs with Black Cloud and Grey Ash!” muttered Ramos en-route to his home. “Some One Thousand, Five Hundred-and-Sixty Weeks; if it’s true that Fifty-Two Weeks make One Year…”
At home, Fred Ramos plus his powerful hands grabbed Marcia like A Contested Treasure and placing her on his laps broke the Good News of a Goodbye to Garland Cigarette...
“Till we don’t meet again.”
A sharp turn by Marcia Ramos, still sitting on father Ramos’ laps but with disbelieving ears.
“You… You’re saying, Daddy, that you won’t any more go close to your Garland Cigarette,” Marcia prodded, a brewing excitement fighting to control.
It was simply glorious: The Solemn Face of Mr. Ramos while replying Marcia, damning His Soul if he should ever be picked out again in The Smoking Circle.
“Yes, Ramos took up again” Daughter, my love for Garland and other Cigarettes have perished in me, their One-Time Slave!”
Easily, Marcia slid into her father’s spread arms of double assurance…
Or was it a gestured plea for Forgiveness for having been singularly behind the mistreatments she had received at Rulers through his obstinacy?

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