ACT OF DECEPTION

Excuse me!
Can I borrow your pen? Mine has hit writers block. I hear yours has its ink overflowing. Is it free? Can you lend me? I promise I’ll give it back when am done writing. Or maybe. You can assist me write a tale. Can you? Yes! I knew you wouldn’t say no. So here’s the story I want us to work on.

Its a story about the two of us. Yeah. I know. I was surprised too at first. Don’t back out yet. Let me finish.

We haven’t met. Check! We barely know each other physically. Check! Yet, I need you to gather all the fickle fragments of details about me. From my pictures. From my writings you can figure out my tone. How I dress. How I walk. How I smell. How I sneer when I’m angered. I need you to create a character in me. Because in this tale you’ll spend your entire life with me. But do not frown. I know I can never match your expectations. That’s marriage. It calls for perseverance. It won’t be for long though. The story has a tragic end. It has to end tragically for one of us. That’s the only way to relieve you off this burden of me.

See I’m a magician. I don’t believe in sorcery. I can create and make characters disappear. The CIA might investigate. They might follow every lead of twists and turns. Whence they’ll get to me, they’ll realize that it was just a story. Some useless tale. Are you ready? (Laughing) I adore your enthusiasm.

Let me help you out.
I’m this cool guy. Dark in complexion. Average in height. Taller than you I might add. Usually my hair is long. For the sake of presentation I have shaved bald. I’ve got one glistering earrings on my left ear. I’ve got a smooth chin. I might add I’m masculine with a protruding belly. My mode of dressing is not that sophisticated. I stick to my khaki jeans. Brown leather belt and boots. I’ve got dozens of wrist watches but I prefer the golden leather one. I’ve got great taste for whiskies. I smoke, but I do cigars only.

See, I’m not that bad. Right?

Then there’s you. How can I describe you? I don’t know you yet. One thing I know is that we are not in love. You’re 20 years younger than me. You are a virgin I suspect. I mean, you just have to be. For most parts of your life you’ve lived with me. You barely speak to me. Maybe its because you hate me. That’s just a possibility. You have long dark natural hair. You’ve confidence in you. But right now you’re afraid of me. why?

Tell me. I’m curious. Why are you afraid?

*YOU:* maybe its because you kidnapped me when I was young.

Aaah, kidnapping? That’s too cheap for my taste.

*You*: I barely know you. I’m 20 yrs younger than you. I hate you maybe. I’m afraid of you. You ask why? You’re a drug lord. Are you?

Intriguing. I’ll go with drug Lord.
So we are in an apartment. In the living room you are watching a movie. In my study room, I’m smoking cigar as I’m watching some porn on my laptop. On the wall where I hang a portrait of an eagle, behind lies a safe. It has my passports, Visa, and a pistol loaded. Outside I assume the guards are on watch. Its 1800hrs.

*YOU:* Then suddenly I buzz into your study room screaming. Which deviates your attention from the porn you were watching. Your dick falls down in your trouser. You’re afraid too.

No. I can’t afford to be afraid. Thanks to adrenaline I reach to my safe. I unlock it and pull out my pistol. Then I reach out to the doorknob, to confirm what scared you.

*YOU:* But before you twist the doorknob. Somebody, probably a police officer forcefully kicks the door wide open. It sends you off balance as the pistols rolls towards my feet.

And the officer is armed. So I tussle with him to disarm him. Which skillfully I achieve. But his gun is not loaded. So the tussles continues. He punches me left. I punch him left and right. He goes middle. I block. I thrash his face.

*YOU:* All this while I had picked up your pistol. I’ve been trying to aim at one person. But there hasn’t been a clear view.

So you shout, “STOP! Or I’ll SHOOT” This makes me to drift away from the officer. Now we are standing distinctively. You have a gun in your hands. Whom are you aiming at?

*YOU:* I’m aiming at you. But I don’t know how to use a pistol. Its my first time.

You’re doing great with the gun. I just need you to shift your aim to the officer. I’ll work you through the process. Imagine a harmony playing. Let your heartbeat follow that harmony. You’re doing great. Aim at him. Imagine the incessant buzz of a mosquito, its long and boring. When it hits its pitch pull the trigger and PAP!
What have you done?

*YOU:* I’ve pulled the trigger. That’s what you told me to do.

I told you to pull the trigger. Not to kill the officer. Now I have to make him disappear.

*YOU:* No need. You said this story has a tragic end to one person. It was the only way to relieve myself of this burden. Remember.?

You’re not going to kill yourself. Are you?

*YOU:* No. I’m going to kill you with your own gun. Your own bullets. I’ll say it was self defense.

You can’t kill me in my story. I was the one to tell this story.

*YOU:* Tragic. Isn’t it? The pen is mine too. You just borrowed it.

This is an act of deception. Plagiarism at its best.
*You just killed a writer*