An Urgent Business Matter

 So I lied. Get over it.

Maybe I haven't written quite as much as I said I would, but maybe I'll pick up from this point on. Or not. But in any event, this is the second post of the year, so I've doubled my output from last year. Gotta give me points for that.

You can take a few points away too, 'cause this is an older story I'm posting. But, see, there's nowhere to sell it. Besides it's short--blog sized--and I haven't posted a story here in some time. Besideser, I like this o ne. You may not, but you're probably not a a Nigerian. So there.

Here we go....

#

An Urgent Business Matter

by

Steve Barber

Lt. Colonel Smiths Magado waddled across the room and gingerly settled his overly fat ass onto a cushioned office chair. He squirmed. No good. He'd have to try something else.

Magado dragged the ottoman over and reached down with both hands, hefting his nearly two pound penis out of his boxers and resting it on the foot stool. He sat back exhausted, hyperventilating and sweating profusely. But even as wiped out as he was, Magado had to smile. If only my father could see me now, he thought, not without some pride. His late father had constantly teased him about his "shortcomings."

Magado's father, Mgbatu Magado, had been the Principal Vice Chairman of Abuja State Bank and Trust, the primary holding company for foreign investments in his country. Six months earlier, the senior Magado died in a tragic Internet accident that was still under investigation. Fortunately, before his death, he had confided in his son as to the whereabouts of certain unclaimed funds he planned to secret out of the country. His death put a hold on any such transfer. But the Colonel was working to change that.

Magado punched the “on” button on his computer, waited for it to get up to speed, then accessed his email. There it was. The response he’d been waiting for. Someone had risen to the bait. He reached for the keyboard, but the ottoman on which his penis rested kept him too far away to type. He turned sideways, and somehow managed to grab the keyboard and deposit it onto his ample lap.

Alma Grinkle of Saskatoon had accepted his offer. I'll make her a rich woman, thought the Colonel, but I'll be even richer. And I'll still have my huge penis too. 

"My dear Miss Alma," typed Magado. "It is with delightness that I receive your missive this day. Please to know funds at your bank tomorrow morning earliest. My friend, yes I say my good friend Miss Alma, most wonderful lady, I looking forward meet you seventh January when we concluding transactions."

He finished the email with additional platitudes, sent it along to Alma, then electronically transferred the funds from his father's account to Alma's bank.

The Colonel was basking in the glow of a job well done when his watch alarm reminded him it was time to change his penile patches. The directions cautioned "one patch at a time," but he'd reasoned if one was good, two must be better.

He applied both patches, and sat back to watch his penis grow again. But this time it was different. Something was wrong. It was growing way too much, way too fast. Crap. Directions. I should have followed the directions. 

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The following morning, Alma Grinkle scanned through the newspaper while finishing her morning tea. A page two headline leaped out at her: "Top Nigerian Army Officer Killed by Exploding Penis."

Alma sighed and shook her head. She put on her hat and gloves, grabbed her keys and headed out the door toward her bank. How awful for him, she thought. He was such a sweet man.