“Mr. Timothy, take your clothes off and lie down on the altar,” the prophet says.
I flinch. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t be ashamed,” the verger says. “All of us here are men.”
“Mr. Timothy, we all came to the world naked, remember?” Prophet Elijah says.
When my bare back touches the warm rock on the altar, I squirm. But the prospect of my wife Regina giving birth to a child is more than enough compensation. I stare at the roof, already feeling the potency of this divine treatment from this one-eyed prophet. I’m positive that I’ll always remember this as a great day.
The prophet sits on the ground, facing me with his legs crossed. He closes his eyes and gabbles a short prayer only he understands. He stands up, covers my genitals with the middle of his heavy Bible, and prays with his hands over it. When he removes the Bible, he grabs my penis and gives it a squash, startling me. He picks up my bloated scrotum like a coin and drops it on the back of his hand as if measuring its weight. It seems he enjoys fiddling with my private parts, and I wonder if this is part of the treatment. He shuts his eyes again in prayer, muttering words that sound like Yoruba and Urhobo mixed together. Maybe he’s speaking in tongues. Now he gives my member a quick massage, strokes it up and down, and swings it around. God, his hands are thorny. And, to my shame, my manhood has stood stiff on the altar.
Prophet Elijah nods. “Angel Michael.”
“Master, I’m right behind you,” the verger answers.
“Slit the throat of the ram.”
“Your slave has heard, Master.”
The prophet lets go of my asset, and I sit up to watch. The knife glitters when the verger pulls it out of the sheath. He drags the ram and places it on a moss-strewn stone near me, singing an ominous song littered with plenty of Hallelujahs. With a swift thrust of the knife, the neck tears apart. The prophet asks me to lie down again as he tows the beheaded animal closer to me and positions the bleeding neck onto my genitals. The blood is so hot, spurting, that I wriggle away.
“Don’t move,” he commands me, frowning.
‘What seems to be an easy path usually is the most difficult to navigate.’ ~Unknown
An interesting read!
I commend you for this beautiful piece. It was funny and entertaining, yet informative.
I like that you highlighted Tim’s negligence of a possible solution, all because of money, only to patronize a ‘holy service’ offering little or no assistance towards his aspirations. This is the stark reality of many men in Africa who believe in supernatural healing than their scientific counterpart. Running campaigns for awareness for men’s health while making provision of access to finance, will go a long way to solve these simple issues.
At the point I read that Tim had chimpanzee balls for a meal, I reclined and thought, “how many more animals to go?” Lol.
I await your next short story. Well done!
Wow! A beautifully crafted master piece. Bravo!