Stacy’s piercing voice could be heard on the radio. She goes by her showbiz name; Obaa Commando, award winning host of the Most Entertaining and Hilarious Midnight Show of the year at the just ended Radio and Television Personality Awards.
The producer of the show bumps into the studio signaling her to speak louder because the output he was receiving at his end was not audible enough. Stacy ignored him. Her producer always made her feel her voice was not perfect but even so, her listeners seemed to admire it.
She steals a glance at the wretched wooden wall clock in the studio room. The wall clock, she assumes, moves faster during the day only to be seen crawling at night. It had been 15 minutes since she began her late night show or so the bias wall clock made her believe. It was 11:45pm now and her show was up until 2:00 in the morning.
Her late night show “BIZARRE SOLUTIONS TO LOVE PROBLEMS” kept ardent listeners awake at night. She was occasionally lucky to have a caller or two call in to contribute to her show. Is Stacy a counselor? Definitely not! She only provided a platform for people with rather serious love issues seek pleasure in the inhumane solutions they could have hoped for in their wildest dreams. Her solutions were not to be taken seriously as it was only for the sake of humor. Her hope, was to make another depressed lover cheerful by proposing solutions no sane person would execute. It was all for the fun of it.
Stacy enjoyed her show. Her listeners were up all night not only to listen to the bizarre solutions she proposed to people’s problems but also to share in her unmatchable sense of humor. Her listeners adored her. She always had a way of making life’s many burdens lighter.
“Hello Obaa Commando” Her first caller finally. It was a minute to the top of the hour, 12:00am.
“Hello, Hello” The caller called in excitedly.
“Hello, who do I have on the line at this hour of the night?” Stacy inquired from her caller.
“Errm Obaa Commando, I caught my husband with the housemaid in our matrimonial bed last night. Can you imagine? And...”
“Please your name and where you are calling from” Stacy cut in.
“O’ sorry, this is Yaaya calling from Madina, Lotto Kiosk Junction” the caller replied
“Okay Yaaya, talk to Obaa Commando”
“Ehe Obaa Commando, like I was saying, after catching him red-handed, my husband now claims he was taking her through an assignment from school.”
“Hello Yaaya, Obaa Commando has listened to you and this is the solution she proposes. Do you have a tank for storing water?"
“Yes Obaa Commando”
“Did you fill the tank up today?”
“Yes Commando! In fact, I just finished that particular chore because of the perennial water crisis.”
“Okay Yaaya, Obaa Commando instructs you to find a cane or a branch of any tree, soak it in the water tank for at least fifteen minutes, go into the bedroom and stroke your husband several times on his bare buttocks. It will serve as a reminder to him anytime he approaches your housemaid”
Laughter filled the air as presenter and caller shared in a good and hearty laugh. Amidst laughter, the caller replies “thank you Obaa Comando. Have a good night. Bye.”
“Don’t forget to call me tomorrow with a feedback and as usual make a recording of the beating you subject him to. This will serve as a deterrent to promiscuous husbands all over the country. Thank you for calling and have a good night too. Bye” Stacy admonished.
“0299-453-223 or 0899-453-223” Stacy recited the call-in contacts repeatedly into the microphone. She noticed the green light on the speaker blink. There was another caller on the line.
“Hello, who do we have on the line please?” Stacy asked impatiently, eager to speak to her next caller.
“Hello. Hello. Can you hear me please?” The caller asked calmly. “Hello!”
The line disconnects after several failed communication attempts between caller and host.
Stacy increases the volume of the theme song and dries out the tears in her eye with a handkerchief. Her day had been hectic and she deserved a good laugh. “Laughter is good medicine” she recalls her mother tell her. Or was it her aunt, Sandra? She thought out loud while sipping in some water to clear her throat. She again noticed the red light on her console blinking, indicating a call was coming through. She would have to wait for her producer to pick up the call in his cubicle before transferring the caller into the studio on speaker. A green light prompted Stacy that she could begin a conversation with the caller. She decreases the volume of her theme song and reiterates the call-in contacts while awaiting her producer to give her the green light to speak to the caller.
“0299-453-223 or 0899-45…"
“Hello” the caller interrupted her. It was a male caller which was very unusual. Stacy felt lucky though. She rarely had male callers call-in to contribute to her show.
"Hi there!” Stacy replied, noticing his voice. It was that of the caller whose line had dropped a few minutes prior.
“Hello Obaa Commando” the caller repeated in a rather soft tone. The sound of frogs croaking could be heard. It was as though they were having a late night orchestra with the continuous and uniform KROOO-kroo-KROOO-kroo going on in the background.
Then again, there was something particularly odd about this caller maybe that was what her instincts told her. Her instincts could be wrong after all, she thought. The other time she listened to her instincts, she jilted her high school lover and had remained single ever since. "Not again fellow!" Stacy rebuked her instincts, she wasn't going to allow it to dictate to her any longer. The caller sounded hurt and could be heard panting heavily but unsteadily through the phone. Even so, he sounded unusually calm.
“Hello Obaa Commando, my name is Righteous, calling from Pantang Mental Hospital… area” The caller added.
“Okay Righteous, ei, Pantang Mental Hospital area paaa, are you sure you are not a madman?” Stacy joked. “ha ha, Pardon me. I’m just being mischievous. Righteous, tell Obaa Commando how she can be of help to you this cold night.” Stacy managed to engage the caller in a conversation.
“Obaa Commando, I have just arrived at my lover’s bungalow to surprise her but I can hear another man’s voice emanating from her room. Tell me what to do Obaa Commando.” he asked calmly.
“Hello Righteous, if you can hear me, I have a few questions to ask you.” Stacy was honored to be called upon to give an advice on an ongoing crisis. It was her first. Her instincts prompted her to tread cautiously but the excitement she felt within dismissed the warning. She carried on with her recommendations;
“Go ahead please” The caller consented.
“Is this happening as we speak?” Stacy asked curiously.
“Yes please” He answered calmly. His heart seemed to beat steadily at this point.
“Which part of the room are you Righteous?”
“Please I’m at the door of her bungalow”
“Okay Righteous, how did you get there? Did you drive there? Do you own a car?”
“No please. But there is a car packed out here and if I am not mistaken, it may belong to the gentleman whose voice I heard in her room” The caller elaborated.
“Okay Righteous, Obaa Commando wants you to pour out some amount of fuel from the car parked outside, break into your lover’s room, dispose the fuel on them both and burn the whole place down!” Stacy instructed.
As expected, Stacy blew up into uncontrollable laughter. She laughed heartily. Tears of joy took turns on her face. She was really enjoying tonight’s show. Then she noticed her caller was not at all humored. He instead uttered two carefully chosen words; “Hold on” The caller said calmly.
The strange caller could be heard moving towards the parked car, collecting all that was instructed him. Stacy, sensing foul play suddenly became anxious. She could feel her legs tremble beneath her. The headphone came off her curious ears and her tiny palms grew wet. Stacy looked out of the studio only to catch her producer asleep in his chair. The studio however could only be unlocked from behind. She clearly had no way to put an end to this mysterious call. The telephone receiver was on her producer’s desk in his cubicle.
She had to act now and fast as the whole world could now hear what was ongoing at the other end of the phone call. She mustered courage and uttered a few words.
“He…. ll... o Mr. Righteous” she managed.
“Please Sir” she continued, “I did not mean for you to carry out what I instructed. This is a “just for laughs” show and not one to be taken seriously.”
There was no response.
“Hello Mr. Righteous, please can you hear me?!” Stacy asked anxiously as all she could hear were frantic footsteps and heavy panting.
A loud bang on the door at the other end of the line shook the entire studio and instantaneously woke her sleeping producer up. He rushed into the studio. He could not believe how his satirical show had turned horrific while he napped. It was then that it dawned on him that he, like Stacy has been trapped in the studio away from the telephone. Clearly, there was no possible way for both host and producer to put an end to this rather unpleasant call. The once commended auto-lock studio door had done them a great disservice. The wall clock only stared, carrying out its mandated task; tick-tock, tick-tock.
The producer took over from the now terrified Stacy and spoke quite confidently into the microphone;
“Hello Sir, you are live on Radio Global 92.4FM and the entire citizenry including the police are listening to whatever is going on and are well aware of your current location. Calm down and do not attempt endangering the life of the couple”
Once again, there was no response.
They could see a barrage of calls coming in through the transparent glass wall of the studio as the red light on the telephone indicated. There was not much Stacy and her petrified producer could do. They were trapped! Stacy searched her pockets for her cellphone only to realize that she had not been permitted to carry it into the studio. Her producer claimed that it was to avoid the signals from her cellphone from interfering with the radio signals. Telephones could be heard ringing in other deserted offices nearby as well as their cellphones vibrating persistently on the producer’s desk.
A loud scream at the other end of the line sent a chill down both spines. It was that of a woman. They could hear the voice of another. It was that of a gentleman begging for his life. Then a firm voice which belonged to Righteous spoke out; “Greetings from Obaa Commando!”. The caller’s voice was bold and unapologetic.
“Please don’t do it!” Stacy spoke nervously into the microphone in the studio. “Please Mr. Righteous!” Tears lingered in her voice. She could not control her tears. Stacy sobbed wildly.
“Whatever it is Mr. Righteous, there is always a way out. Exactly which part of Pantang did you say you were calling from Sir. We can send immediate help to you from here Sir.” The producer cut in. He exhaled loudly and asked a rather dumb question. “Mr, Righteous, are you me-n-t-a-a-a-lly ill?” The producer stammered through what he just realized was an inappropriate question but he could not help it. Fear had gripped him.
After what seemed like days but in reality a few seconds, a loud explosion was heard amidst the screams at the other end of the phone call.
The studio shook. The entire country was awake and listening in on the unfolding event. Sirens of racing police cars and ambulances could be heard distantly. Television reporters could be heard transmitting live from the compound of Radio Global whereas a faction of journalists joined the race to transmit live from the location of the cruel caller.
The now satisfied caller finally broke the silence and spoke into the microphone;
“Thank you for the advice Obaa Commando. I will do well to call in again should I face further issues. I love your show and keep up the good works!”
Righteous heaved a sigh of relief and added; “I will locate you and hand over the recorded video as requested.”
The line disconnects.
OBAA COMMANDO ADVISES MENTALLY ILL PATIENT TO SET NURSE AND HUSBAND ABLAZE IN NURSE’S BUNGALOW; the headline of News Daily had it boldly captured on its front page.
The End.
What happens to Stacy and her producer? Is Righteous mentally ill or actually a brokenhearted lover?... You will definitely find out in the successive episodes of OBAA COMMANDO.
A fictional story created by:
Atsu Dogbey
(Member of TDL)
No comments:
Post a Comment