Log Forty-two: WIG DRAMA

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FORTY-TWO
WIG DRAMA

Tuesday

3:24 pm

Dear, Diary

Eh, eh, Shebi you know that I was supposed to have muffin and coffee as collateral consolation while we waited for Elvis's business partner—wait give me a minute, I need to laugh this laugh out...

Phew! Okay, I'm done...

I lied!!! Wait small wait small...

Phew! Okay, I'm good.

Anyway, so, I'm getting warmed up and quietly and jejely eating the heavenly muffin and sipping on the incredible coffee when the craziest thing happened—wallahi I think say na film sha.

This crazy lunatic in Gucci grabbed my wig from my head ni sha!

You shout?

I swear that's how everyone in the coffee shop shouted too; Oga Elvis just froze in his seat.

If you think it's embarrassing for you to hear it, now begin how embarrassed me that lived it was—I even had my mouthful of muffin.

My wig is the million braided wig kind—the cheap one that you have to knot to your head tightly like your life solely depended on it and that's exactly how I knotted it today. I even knotted it together with my wig cap and cornrows—now imagine someone thinking she's about to pull a wig when she's really about to pull my head.

Calm down...relax... story just start.

Shaniqua

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