It popped up as I was hunting for a Wilder-Fury stream.

Got Flo’s? Got Jakes?
Ask for Junebug.
Bonafide Spoon Gazer.
XXX-XXX-XXXX.

I didn’t know what those words meant, but I asked for Junebug.

“Got Jakes?” She enquired.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“Got signs?”

“The ad said ask for Junebug.”

“Then you’re in luck. Initial consultation is half price. This week only. Better think fast.”

Junebug arrived by taxi with the dusk and a little wheeled carry-on bag in tow.

Apparently, the sun had never touched her skin, which looked to be constructed out of ballistic gelatine.

She bounced her luggage up the stairs, and the tips of her colourless hair refracted rainbows of porch light.

She brushed past me, and I realized my own hair was standing on end.

“Gonna offer me something to…

In 2015, I was stuck behind a convoy of flatbed trucks on the Kaduna - Zaria expressway. There was a leathery, weather-beaten white man leaning on a huge artillery piece on the truck. He had a thousand-yard stare. I know that is what he had because in the most recent Rambo movie, a man who fancied he was tough and thus behaved like a jerk (meaning he would soon be dead or need rescuing), mocked Rambo's jaded lack of a facial expression with the statement "I don't care about your thousand yard…

It's a bit like going to bed with an alien. Sex might be good but you don't know what the fucking consequences are going to be.

I say this to a friend of mine, about another physician. That I would not rent space from him.

I like him, but I don't understand him. He talks about the brain. As soon as he starts talking he loses me.... really. In spite of me being a family practice doctor of 31 years now, board certified, board eligible, etc, etc. He veers off into...…