I QUIT CHELSEA 2

…..Continuation of ‘I quit Chelsea’
PART2
A Chelsea fan got into a heated argument with an Arsenal fan, who happened to be one of the guys I teased earlier. As though the Chelsea guy's hands took a pincers form, he went swiftly for the other guy's Jersey, pulled and ripped it apart within splits of seconds. What! I stood dazed as I never expected that. My heart skipped over again at the thought of things getting out of hands. Before I could get a grip on myself, the guy retaliated with a punch that got the Chelsea guy's lips broken and left it dripping of blood. The rugged looking guy who wanted to have a bet with me took side with his friend and charged at the Chelsea guy as well. Good for the attacked, he too had some guys in his corner. Before I knew it, my living-room was converted into street fights. A group heaved blows at each other, another slammed and wrestled each other, still another; threw objects at one another. Knowing it would be suicidal to get into their midst, I stood at a safe corner appealing they stop. Perhaps my plea hit them as ironic, it only fired them up and heightened the scuffle. ‘What do I do?’ I paced in all directions like a caged circus beast. Quietly, I asked God to please restore decorum. The words had not escaped my lips when a momentary silence fell on the house. But would God answer my prayers with more troubles?
My next building neighbor, Baba Risi was splayed on the ground, looking lifeless.  A guy had dodged a flower vast thrown at him, it had hit Baba Risi's forehead who stood directly behind. “oooooo what a sort of trouble have I landed myself into,” I lamented, hoped the poor man was still alive as he wouldn’t look calmer in death. Some guys rushed at him and hurried him out to the nearest hospital. In no time, I was left all alone in the midst of the disarray. my furniture has shifted base. asides the shattered flower vast, my glassy center table had lost one of its legs to the fracas with a web-like crack at one  end. There was no time to count my loss. My wife must not meet this mess. In a rush, I swung into action.
I was almost done putting the room in shape when the door busted opened, it was my wife. Behind her was her sales girl carrying a sack. “Honey,” she called out loud. Her expression was a merge of fright and anger. I sensed she had heard what happened and was bringing on quarrel, so I made a bold face in defence, to measure up to her sentiment. “Woman, you startled me, is everything alright?”
“I should ask you. Where is Mourinho?” Then I remembered I wasn’t alone. Silly me, I had been so lost in the earlier entertainment that graduated into turbulence that I had even forgotten myself, not to talk of our son. What a father! I chastised myself.
“He is asleep in his crib,” I replied. My wife brisked pass me to the bedroom. My response bounced back at me with the word ‘ASLEEP' boldened and highlighted. Wait a minute, even if sleeping spell had been cast on Mourinho, it would have been broken in that pandemonium. How come I didn’t hear him cry? Could it be, he had cried himself back to sleep? Could he……my wife dashed into the living-room and broke into my thought.
“Where is my son? He is not in his cot,” she said with expression more tensed than before.
“What do you mean by that?”
I hurried into the bedroom and was alarmed. Mourinho was just learning to crawl and couldn’t possibly have scaled a 500mm high cot. I had been anxious to join the match that was ongoing, maybe I didn’t actually lay him in his cot. Where could I have lain him? I tried tracing back through my scattered mind. By then, his mother was already going berserk: her tear-soaked eyes had turned fiery red, her hair disheveled, she stamped her feet hysterically around, smacking herself at interval. A strange discomfort roused from within me, my pores let out sweat as I  searched from room-to-room .At a point, I  lifted my travelling-box and looked in, then I knew I was beginning to lose it. Entering the living-room without Mourinho in sight, my wife rushed at me and locked my shirt.
“Where is our son?” she asked over again with voice crescendoing.  As though she wanted me to feel a part of the labour she had at his birth, before I knew it, she sunk her canine in my arm. It felt so deep a Vampire couldn’t have done better. I let out a stretched shout of pain that melted into relieve as her sales girl  came to my aid and pulled her off me. It appeared like she made away with tiny bits of my flesh and would need a toothpick.
I became devastated, managed to make my way to the nearest police station. There, I met two officers at the counter.
Me: Good evening officers.
Officer1: Evening. What can we do for you?
Me: I am here to report a kidnap. (I stuttered and shook all over.)
Officer 2: Oga calm down and tell us what happened.
I narrated the incident in detail.
Hmmmn, you don’t want to have a case on your hands. Many times, the police are the worst help to run to.
Officer1: (laughed out in mockery) Oga Yahaya, see me see gbege ooo (He spoke in pidgin English).
Officer2: This wan na serious gbege. You mean you left your door opened to strangers? You must be a stupid man.
Officer 1: Oga Yahaya, this wan pass stupid, na mumu.
I stood dumbfounded as they jested and rubbed my foolishness in my face.
Officer 2: But for the situation you have on your hands, an idiot like you should be detained. Maybe when you pass the night in our guardroom, some senses would be knocked into your dumbhead. Anyway pen down your statement then we would see what we can do. (He tossed a pen at me along with a piece of paper)
As I wrote, they mocked on. Since I was at their mercy, I had no choice than to endure the insults. By the way, I deserved much more. When I was through, I handed over the written statement.
Officer 1: Mr. man, for now, we assume you’ve only made unverified statement and don’t have a case yet. Before we can be of help, we need to be certain your son is really missing. Could be one of those strangers you harboured only took your son somewhere around to get cool breeze or for sightseeing and had returned him(he laughed). To save us some troubles and as well help yourself, you have the next 24hours to go round your neighborhood in search of him. If by this time tomorrow the situation remains the same, come get us informed, then we would intervene, good day.
“Ohh” I exhaled with deep breath, feeling terribly sapped of strength. “Where do I start from?”
As I walked down the road to my house, I wished Mourinho would have been home on my return.
I arrived the house and  things were still the same. Only that a couple of women from the neighborhood, along side my sister-in-law were seated around my wife who was looking like she had lost her mind.
I went straight into the bedroom and was followed by my sister-in-law. She consoled and asked if there had been any development. I wished I could say something hopeful and worthwhile. But in the absence of none I just shook my head in response.
As darkness crept in, so Consolers thinned out. I dreaded living through the dark hours alone with my wife; yet I couldn’t possibly stay apart from her in her unnerved state. It was a great relieve when I realized my sister-in-law would stay the night.
In the lowly corner of our bedroom, I could hear my wife's cracked voice of agony.
“Big Sis, I was at the factory when all of a sudden, I started lactating and felt my left nipple going sore. Somehow I just knew something was wrong with my baby. At once, I left what I was doing. True to my instinct, I rushed home to an empty cradle. That moment, I could more or less hear my baby crying. But now, he seems to be gone in a distance far beyond reach as I can’t even get his faintest voice. Hmmn, will I get to see my son again?
“Labisi, let’s remain positive and hopeful, you will surely see your son, hold and rock him again.”
“I shouldn’t have left Mourinho with Folarin. I had forgotten nothing else matters to him when he's watching football; his one and only Idol that gets his undivided attention.”
Those words stung like a bee. I had always thought my wife understood my love for football and accepted me the way I was. Now that she bared her mind, I felt so ashamed of myself. As depressing as her expressions were, little did I know my woes had just begun....TO BE CONTINUED