CUPID AND SAM INC. Part 2
Chief was non-malleable this day. Just like he had been most of his life. Eyes squinted, and his face ruffled. Even the new millennium haircut did not look so nice on him any longer. A frown makes one ugly. Very true. How does Chief get himself to say those words, or refer to his wife as – babe? It was like trying to get a good church boy to cuss on a Sunday morning. That’s a herculean task. Chief was not one of these young kids who believe that Valentine’s day should be a public holiday. Different strokes for different folks.
Cupid was not pleased with the hesitation from his client. “Mr. Remigus, this is just the first task,” Cupid informed him. It was evident that if he would not man-up on step one, there might never be a second or third. How do you walk, if first, you don’t crawl? “Will you at least try?” Cupid asked.
Chief bent his head, and then he turned his face sideways. “Coach, it’s not easy, butu I will try.”
Welcome to the fight to save a marriage, Cupid almost whispered. Many clients don’t understand that most marriages do not hit the rocks in one day. Harsh words. Broken promises. Lies; white, black and navy blue, told several times until trust was lost.
“You can have this,” Cupid said, handing his complementary card to Mr. Remigus who was now a little more mellow. “It’s my number. Call me tonight when you have done what I have asked you to do.”
Chief stared at the little four-cornered piece of beauty with admiration. His eyes picking each number apart. “What kind of number is this?”
It was 0800-Call-Cupid. “It’s special, just the way I want you to treat your wife like she is – special.”
The grimace and frown returned to Chief’s face. Fewer wrinkles this time because he had accepted to put in some work. “OK Coopeedi,” he replied in his thick accent. “Anyi ga ahu na echi. We would see tomorrow.”
“Have a beautiful evening, Chief,” Cupid replied, tapping Chief twice on the shoulder before getting into his car. It was 5:42 pm, a good day to be alive, but not a very good time to be on Lagos highways. “Oh no,” Cupid murmured. He had promised Onyinye lunch, and somehow, it had skipped his memory. Integrity was paramount, and Cupid had more of it than a lot of companies put together. “Hey! Still In the office?”
“Just left. You didn’t show up again, sir,” Onyinye replied, sounding like a baby that had just been deprived of a favorite toy.
“That’s why I’m calling. Where are you at?”
“Close to the Jeffersons. A few minutes away from the office. Not too far to drive back if you want me to,” she replied, sounding less whiny.
“Ok, I promised you lunch, but guess we could have dinner if you aren’t in a hurry.”
Onyinye’s spirit almost leaped out of her body in joy. She didn’t know how to respond without sounding like a serial US visa applicant that had just been granted a visiting visa.
“Are you there?” Cupid asked.
“Yes, sir,” She responded, practicing breath control techniques that had been learned in the choir, to keep her voice sounding as normal as possible. “I’d just drive back to the office.” Onyinye reversed and in a few minutes, she was sitting in the parking lot of Cupid and Sam Inc. in a 2016 Toyota Corolla, her official car. Yes, her official car. Staff welfare was prime at Cupid and Sam Inc., and that was one of the reasons it was listed among the top five best organizations to work for in Nigeria. Pulling out a purse from her bag; the usual items began to fly out. The earlier makeup wouldn’t suffice. She improved on her looks, constantly evaluating her facial features and outstanding gap-tooth smile in the mirror while waiting for Cupid to arrive.
Cupid needed the break; a break from the Roman man and his shenanigans. A break from saving the world that didn’t want to be saved. Most especially, it was an opportunity to get away from the beast. The monster known as – The Lagos highway. Onyinye was a good girl, an excellent secretary that did her work with so much enthusiasm that Cupid couldn’t wish to ever have her replaced. They had lunch together before. But there were several others with them. There was Sam and Sharon his secretary, and Justice Opuruiche, a client whose marriage had just been saved by Mr. Fix-it, Cupid. It was more like lunch to appreciate how much had been done for him. It was brief and very formal. Both secretaries acted like they were still at their desk. Only speaking when their bosses poked them for a response. Professionalism had no substitute. In a short time after the host had left, they were all up and familiar with each other.
CHIEF had missed two days at Alaba Market. Not something he liked, especially because he had little trust for the boys who managed the business when he couldn’t do so. He perceived they were smarter than he was, but he would never let them get to that conclusion on their own. He believed that both lads were possessed. He had never seen two boys, 17 and 18 years of age, who loved money as much as Afam and Kizito. There had to be an evil spirit involved. The trip home was long and boring. Chief spent most of his time thinking than observing. He completely missed all the fights, cussing, and drivers who sped and swerved like they had a pact with death. Most Lagosians were not qualified to have a driver’s license, including Chief Romanus. “Ebe a anyi no, here we are,” Chief said, talking to himself just like he had done for the last 30 minutes of his journey. It wasn’t madness in its infancy, but the turmoil of soul. A red cap chief, soon to be anointed Obi Dimkpa of his autonomous community – about to call his wife – babe, and tell her he loves her, just like that? His father was a warrior and not a weakling. Chief was confident that his father wouldn’t be proud of him at that moment.
Mrs. Romanus was in the kitchen when her husband walked in. For security reasons, she peeped to see who had stepped in when she heard the jostling, and the sound of the door opening afterward. It was the ‘devil,’ so she just continued pounding the yam. Their differences didn’t mean that chief wouldn’t eat that night. It wasn’t that bad yet. At least, she was kind enough not to resort to using food as a weapon to fight Chief. And that was why his stomach was still glorious.
Chief sat down for a few minutes to soak in the calmness of his house. It’s always home-sweet-home. “Nne,” Chief said as he walked into the kitchen. “I bought you bread,” he added, and then it dawned on him that he lacked wisdom. Trying to correct the foolishness, “the bread is for us,” he added. That was an epic fail. How do you buy bread for your wife? Hadn’t he heard that women like shiny things? Especially when they are made out of gold and precious stones.
“You are welcome, chief,” Mrs. Romanus replied. It was a lukewarm response and demoralizing to the morale chief had worked up shortly before he had walked in.
“Babe,” he said, a little above a whisper, but loud enough for Anurika, his wife, to hear. She heard but did not respond. Maybe he was thinking out loud or having some kind of hallucination she imagined. It didn’t ring a bell that he could be referring to her. It’s like when your father who has called you Emeka all your life, suddenly returns home one day and calls you Mesco. It doesn’t click in the brain. So Chief humbled himself and walked away, straight into his room. They had separate rooms. The room separation happened after the first week of being married. Chief wanted his privacy to count his money. “Nna men, you cannot be counting money when your wife is dia. The next day she would tell you she wants to buy one shoe for 45 thousand,” Chief said to his friend, shortly before he made the decision to assign his wife to her own room.
Before now, they also ate from the same plate. That lasted only two weeks. Mr. Remigus didn’t like how his wife had zero respect for tradition. How dare a woman touch the meat in the soup when the man of the house had not taken a choice piece or two, as his appetite may permit? The younger generation and their lack of proper home training, Remegius thought to himself, the first time he ate fufu and Ogbono soup with his wife. The few times he ate with his wife… the dinner was brief and precise. There were no candle lights and roses, nor all the drama romantics try to create before eating a meal. How does a candle affect the pounded yam? Nonsense! The man was a straight shooter.
Meanwhile, Cupid and Onyinye were at Protea Hotel having the much-anticipated dinner. The feeling was not exactly mutual. Cupid was being a nice guy, but he was also trying to buy some time off traffic. For Onyi, it was almost like a dream honeymoon, the night after an elaborate state wedding.
“Thank you so much, sir,” Onyinye said to Cupid. Her smile was alive because it was from her heart’s depth.
Cupid laughed. “Why are you thanking me this much?” he requested to know. It seemed like Onyinye had thanked him a thousand times already.
“How many bosses would have dinner with their secretary at such a lovely place?”
Actually, many bosses would. But after that, like piranha’s with razor-sharp teeth, they would forge ahead to devour. “You are like a little sister I wish I had,” Cupid said and gently touched Onyinye’s chin with his fingers.
Little sister? Onyinye felt like slapping sense into him. Her smile quickly eroded much to the notice of Cupid. “Are you alright?” Cupid was a very sensitive man. He could pick out details that no one else would. “You feel sad that I don’t have a sister, right?”
Give yourself brain. That was the only thought that came to Onyinye’s mind.
Now, it was unbelievable how naïve Cupid was. It actually stunned his secretary that a guy with so much experience in the love business could be as naïve. But his innocence made her like him even the more. In many years of working with him, girls never trooped in and out of his office, neither at home. No parties or clubbing on Friday. God, work, Chelsea FC and more work. That pretty much summed up his entire life. But every now and then, he would have fun at a golf course, art exhibition or at a jazz festival somewhere around the world. It was on one of those days he was embarking on a trip around the world he met Onyinye, a young girl of 23, fresh out of college with eyes set on the future. Beautiful and slim. Light skinned with bleached hair that made her look blonde. She was waiting for a flight to Enugu, while Cupid was en route London for the Wimbledon Championship, the most prestigious grand slam. He was 27 then, weighed 250 pounds and kept a mustache. Now, he was 32, the beard was gone, and he weighed 200 pounds. The face was pretty much the same – handsome.
“Hello,” he greeted and sat down beside her. Onyinye seemed to be celebrating the #makeupfreeday. Her face was a little pale and looked a little like that of a mourning widow. Cupid was concerned. As usual, Mr. fix it had to save the young lady. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I am, why do you ask?”
Cupid didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable if he told her how somber she looked. “You look so natural. Don’t get me wrong, you look beautiful too.”
“Oh! Thank you. I’m just celebrating the makeup free day trending on Twitter at the moment.”
“I never knew there was a celebration like that.” Cupid didn’t know much of what happens on the social media platforms. You don’t save the world spending all of your time on Twitter and Snapchat. The only platforms that housed his profile were LinkedIn and Facebook. The conversation with Onyinye was so fun that a complimentary card had to be pulled out from the back pocket of Cupid’s denim jean. Onyinye had just completed her youth service and was going home to visit her family. “Call me if you need anything,” Cupid said to her once his flight had been announced. By the next week, she needed something. A comfortable small office with an ocean view was offered her, as secretary to the Big Dawg. The view of the Lagos bar beach was not really an exciting one though.
“It’s an honor to be considered your sister,” Onyinye said, smiling broadly. Haven spent a few years In the Love business, she had learned a thing or two. Love is like a seed; if it’s planted in the right soil, and watered properly, with the help of a little sun light, it would bud and eventually become a tree. “What would you like to eat?”
Cupid smiled the way someone who isn’t hungry would. “I’m your host. Let’s talk ’bout what you would like to eat.”
Onyinye returned the favor with a mischievous smile. “A few minutes ago when I stepped out of the car, this was Protea Hotel and not Hotel de la Cupid.” Another smile followed. This time it was warm and cute. “We are both visitors, I would only eat if you would have something to eat too.”
For a moment, it seemed that Cupid was lost in thought. It was more like a battle going on in his mind. Office romance was not a good idea. Ask anyone who has been a successful CEO, they would give you that tip, off their fingers. There are a few things that do not work when it comes to running a successful firm. Firstly, don’t employ your family members. And if you must, then place them in positions that leave them out of the day-to-day decision-making process. Of course, give them big titles. People love big titles… Senior Managing Officer in charge of hygiene, Executive Operations Manager in charge of the parking lot or maybe Chief Maintenance Superintendent overseeing the office electronics. Give them a real office and a handsome pay cheque at the end of the month too. Don’t get giddy with emotions and turn your business into a family affair. Not good. Secondly, don’t fall in love with your staff. Once you discover you have started falling in, find a way to fall out. If it’s a female secretary, send her to another department and bring someone else. Preferably someone older who is a little beautifully-challenged. Cupid knew all these things. In fact, he could write a bestseller on ‘what it takes to be a successful CEO in the 21st century.’ And he was probably going to do so; riding on the fame, he had received recently having been featured in Forbes magazine as one of the richest African entrepreneurs under 40 and Time magazine named him one of the leading young African Leaders to watch out for. “OK. I’ll do fresh fish pepper soup with a bottle of wine,” Cupid informed Onyinye who seemed pleased that she had hamstrung him into eating.
Looking at the menu with intent, Onyinye scanned from page to page. How hard is it to decide what you want to eat? It seems that women have a universal challenge – it takes them time to make a decision. A shoe rack with just 6 shoes, and it would take 15 minutes to decide which to wear. Let’s not talk about dressing up for an event like a dinner or gala night. Forever is the right word. Even the great Cupid had not really figured out this part of the woman-makeup yet. Just when it seemed like Onyinye had found the dish-of-life that she had been looking for, she flipped to the next page. Cupid took a deep breath to express his frustration. “Are you alright?” she asked him.
“Sure, dear,” Cupid lied. It was easy to be a love-instructor, but not as easy practicing what he preached. He recalled how he would tell participants to be calm with their wives no matter how much time they needed. “Give your wife all the time she needs, and she would give you all the time you need too,” he would advice. A smile broke out on his face as he listened to his own voice in his head and he realized it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. If it was taking Onyine this long to select a dish, how long would it take her to make up?
“Why did you laugh?”
“I just remembered something I usually share with participants.”
“Want to share with me?”
“No. Except you want to become a client.”
“Would you handle my case if I were to apply to be a client?”
“No,” Cupid bluntly said and avoided eye contact for a minute. Well, it was about two minutes.
Onyinye maintained her gaze. “Why?” she quickly asked as soon as Cupid thought it was safe to look at her now.
“You can’t pay a million a day. I’m your boss, you know. I know what you earn per month.”
“I could for a few days, and then I would be broke. But it would be worth it just to have the great Cupid help me fall in love.”
“Who is this amazing guy that you are willing to break the bank for?”
“Do you really want to know who he is?”
Curiosity kills the cat. “No. But I’d like to meet him someday,” Cupid informed her.
That was not the desired answer Onyinye wanted. “Someday?”
“Yes. For now, you need to decide what you would like to eat.”
“I can do fish pepper soup too with white rice.” After taking forever, she ends up wanting the same thing. Cupid just shook his head silently.
THE waiter taking the order was overly dressed. A red band across his waist. It was so tight Cupid was scared he might suffocate while bending to ask questions. Then a big red bow tie hung around his neck, it was the same color as the pocket square that filled up his entire pocket. And to make things worse, he wore a cheesy smile, exposing his dentures which was not amazing. Cupid concluded that he was in need of braces. “Would you want some appetizers before the food is done?”
“Spring rolls and samosa,” Cupid said, and then he laughed. “I wish Sam were here, it would have been a good time to make fun of him.”
“Boss number two,” Onyinye added and then they both laughed. “Your phone is ringing,” she said to Cupid who was so focused on the waiter, he didn’t notice his phone was vibrating. Maybe it was also because there was some annoying afrobeat song playing in the background that seemed to drown the sound of the ringtone.
“Hello,” Cupid said into the phone receiver.
“Nwanne, Coopeedi,” was the response. It was the Roman man, the Chief himself. No one else would refer to Cupid that way.
“Yes, you recognize my voice,” Chief replied happily.
The accent was unmistakable. It was thick. “Yes, you are my client. Before we are finally done, I would be able to recognize you even in the dark.”
“Thank you, coach. You see ehn, ehn, I don’t know how to start. Can I speak in Igbo.”
“No chief. Speak in English please.”
“Coopeedi, Nwanne m nwoke, I bu onye Amerika? Ok, I will try.” (trans – my brother, are you from Amerika?)
“That’s better. It’s part of my professional ethical standard.”
“You will kill someone with ya English o.” This was Cupid being moderate with his grammar, but Chief was drowning already. Hon. Patrick Obahiagbon would meet his match in Cupid when the young CEO wanted to be mischievous.
“Let’s talk about your task, chief.” Cupid waited for a response and got none. “Did you tell your wife you love her?”
“That is why I am calling you,” Remigus replied.
Onyinye frowned like a spoiled kid who didn’t want her father to leave for work in the morning. “OK,” she said reluctantly.
Cupid walked away, trying to find a more quiet spot where he could talk with Chief. A VIP lounge was around the corner a few meters away from the restroom. “I need to receive a private call. Can I do that here?” Cupid asked the receptionist at the door.
“Oga, sure,” was the quick reply. Cupid was a regular, and an excellent tipper too. A few thousand bucks was going to line the guy’s pocket before the Big Dawg would leave the Hotel.
“Thank you!” Cupid smiled in appreciation. “I’m sorry Chief, had to find somewhere private.”
“It’s ok, Nwanne,” Chief replied. Nwanne was gradually replacing coach or Cupid as a favorite name. Cupid couldn’t fight it off forever. So, he had already begun to ignore how the name made him feel like he was in an Igbo traditional meeting with red cap chiefs and Ichies making noise as Oliver De Coque’s music played in the background.
“So, did you tell your wife you love her?”
“As I entered the house, I gave her the bread I bought for her-”
“Haba chief,” Cupid interrupted. “Who asked you to buy bread? Was that part of the deal?”
“No. I wanted to surplise her.”
“It’s Agege bread, the kind that she likes.”
Cupid thought about it for a second. That was a stupid thing to do but also very thoughtful. He didn’t just buy bread, he bought the kind that she would enjoy eating. The night could still be remedied. “So what happened after that?”
“She just told me I was welcome and didn’t say anything else.”
“Did you tell her the bread was Agege?”
Cupid had an idea. Always look for the light in the tunnel instead of fighting the darkness. “What does she like to eat the Agege bread with?”
“Hot akara or this Yoruba beans, what do they call it?”
“Ehen!” Chief echoed in confirmation.
“Can you find somewhere to buy any of those for her tonight?”
“Coopeedi. Coopeedi.” The frustration was evident. Chief didn’t want to try anything else that would make him look more stupid.
“Drive around. Buy your wife something to go with the bread. Make a cup of tea for her if she likes drinking that too. Then serve it to her.”
The phone went dead. Cupid dialed back immediately. Chief picked up and vehemently swore that this was the height of degradation anyone had tried to put him through. “If she leaves me, I’ll just marry another girl. There are many everywhere. The other day Amaka that sells in Alaba was even telling me how lucky my wife is. Biko, hapu m aka.” (trans – please, leave me alone.)
“Chief, you have paid two million. Do you want to waste it, just like that?”
That was a sobering thought for a man who could use two million to order knockoffs of SAMSUNG home theaters and make twice the investment as profit. “Ok, I’m sorry.”
“Now, you don’t do anything expecting an overnight miracle. Just do it from your heart.”
“Ok, I will try,” Chief replied, sounding downcast.
The Roman man needed a little motivation. “Chief, by this time tomorrow, we would be eating fufu with ofe nsala if you do your task well. And we can have nkwobi too, but no beer.”
“Coopeedi nwanne,” chief almost screamed over the phone. “Ibu nwa afo nwanne nwoke.” The man had not even thought about the fact that the new outfits he had bought weren’t fitting. Chidi afo nri would have been a good nickname, but Cupid was too much of a gentleman to call him that. (trans – You are a son of the soil my brother.)
Mrs. Romanus had finished cooking and served her husband’s food. She did not inform him. If he were starving, he would come out to find out if the food is done, she convinced herself. Shutting herself in the room, she was now in her safe space. The devil, her husband, could have the rest of the house to himself. It’s funny because 12 months ago, she was smiling, dancing shoki while the chief and his friends sprayed her with clean bills. That’s the sad thing about failing marriages and relationships. Two people who had been inseparable and always dressed uniformly as if they were twins now can’t stand each other. What happened to the days when both lovers kept smiling and giggling at each other even when it was unnecessary?
Mr. Romanus walked out and got into his car and searched all over the neighborhood, looking for ewa agoyin or hot akara. The things men can do for love. It took some time, but chief found both items he had been searching for and seemed to have some sense of fulfillment that it had not been a futile journey. On returning home, Chief scattered the kitchen looking for silverware and an excellent porcelain plate to serve his wife. Cupid had informed him that the secret to enjoying food wasn’t just about the size but in the color and presentation. Those principles don’t apply to average Nigerians who are hungry. Food for the belly, and the belly for food. “Nna, I hope I’m not wasting my time,” Chief said as he cut the bread into thin slices and lined them in a saucer just beside the bean balls and steaming ewa agoyin. A bottle of cold mountain dew was also in the tray. The Mountain Dew was chief’s idea. The Roman man was already taking the initiative.
The knock on the door was weak. It was like a foam thudding against a wall of steel. It was evident, the Roman man was scared. “Mummy,” he called out.
“Onye?” was the harsh response. It sounded more like if the caller did not back off, a violent attack would follow. (trans – who is it?)
“Mummy, o mu,” Chief replied like a squealing pig being chased. (trans – o mu – it’s me)
“What do you want?”
“I have something to give you.” For a moment, the entire idea looked much more ridiculous to Chief than he had even imagined when he was out searching for where to buy what he needed.
It was quiet for what seemed like an eternity but was only a minute and a half. “I’m coming,” the voice on the other side of Paradise said. It looked like she walked the slowest she had ever walked to the door in her entire stay in the house. The door was pulled open with such force that Chief was scared and had to move back a little before a slap would follow.
“Mummy, I prepared dinner for you,” Chief said, his eyes trying to hide the fear of the unknown. Would she fling the tray away, or insult him for trying. Not that she had ever abused him verbally. But she knew how to throw shades at him. Subtle jabs that could hurt down to the bones. “Can I come in?”
Mrs. Romanus was weak. It seemed like her entire system was paralyzed. “What is happening?” Anurika, or Mrs. Romanus as she was fondly called asked in a clipped accent.
“I love you,” Chief said and immediately almost wanted to repent for cussing. Embarrassed by what he had just said, Chief quickly walked in and dropped the food on the bed. For a moment, Chief looked at the bed, the giant size bed that had accommodated him back in them days before things went south. The room had a large plasma TV hanging on the wall. The last time chief visited, it wasn’t rugged. Now, it was wall to wall. For a moment, Chief thought he was in a hotel room. Mr. Romanus aka Okosisi wasn’t as extravagant. He had three money-counting machines in his room, a cassette tape player, and a humble bed on which he could rest his head for just enough hours to regain his strength again for another day of hustling. Anurika was still at the door, looking at her husband who had dropped the food and now was walking back towards her.
“Ka chi fo!” Chief said and left the room His wife was still standing at the door. It seemed she had regained her body functions except for her speaking faculty. She closed the door and couldn’t say a word. (trans – Good night!)
Chief’s heart was beating like a drum. Now in the room, Chief locked the door. He was nervous like a teenager who had written a love letter and gave it to his friend to give the girl of his dreams. “Coopeedi,” he said out loud, and then he picked his phone to call.
The dinner with Onyi had been good. It was not a date, so Cupid wasn’t expecting anything spectacular. He hadn’t been on a date in many years. The world had to be saved and who else cared so much? The trip back home was nicer than he had expected. The mad men behind the wheels that drove with intent to kill or maim had somehow all gone home and only sane people were still on the roads. It had been a rewarding day for him. He had conceived a new idea that could make Cupid and Sam Inc. much more valuable than it had been. So much money would pour in if it worked. The money wasn’t the excitement. It was the fact that he could fix more marriages around the world if the idea worked. Cupid shelved the idea in a cabinet in his mind just like several others. Somehow, when the time was right, things would play out like they have for many years.
Standing in his living room with a glass Dom Perignon in his hand, Cupid looked around. A fine wife wouldn’t be a bad idea. And maybe one or two children running around the glass house. No, the latter was not a good Idea. All night crying sessions, teething pains, uncontrolled bowels releasing its content everywhere and all the other things associated with raising little children were terrifying to him. A wife was enough. It wasn’t hard to find one. He hadn’t been searching. Too many unhappy people around the world needed fixing for now.
The phone had beeped a couple of times before Cupid reached for it. “Hello!”
“Coopeedi,” the heavy breathing but excited chief greeted. “Nwanne, I did it!” he exclaimed.
“I told her that I love her. Nwanne, my heart was beating ehn. She was just looking at me. I’m sure she was surplised.”
Yes, she was really surplised. “That is just the first of many surprises we have for her. By the time we are done, she would have a brand-new husband.”
Chief went into details of how he went around the entire Lagos to find hot akara and ewa agoyin and how he didn’t even know where to find the dishes in the kitchen because he never had a need to look for one before. Anurika’s room was a talking point too. Cupid had to listen to everything the Chief had on his mind, and there was a lot in there. “What are we doing tomorrow?” Chief asked, already anticipating a new day and another exercise.
“We start the day at the gym. I would let you know what else I have for you by the time we meet.”
“OK. But Coopeedi, is there a way you can reduce the amount? I’m like ya brother now. One million a day di kwa too much.”
“Chief, did you call your wife babe?”
“Hello… Hello… Hello… Coopeedi… What is wrong with this network?” Chief said, and then he dropped the call.
The network was alright for over 25 minutes till Chief was asked if he called his wife babe. Cupid just laughed all alone, and for another moment, he wished there was someone in the house to enjoy a good laugh with him.
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Written by Richard OTI
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