CHRONICLES OF THE SHENANIGANGS 1: IN THE BEGINNING...

ing board, the blender itself was bloodstained!, oops, did I say blood?, just kidding, it's just pepper, the huge gas cooker was firing agai

gatuan fence avoiding the hostile-looking guardsmen or on the makeshift bamboo bed on the orphanage home decking monitoring this filthy rich man, penning down every piece of info in his black leatherette diary...no he called it his chronicle!, only God had made him not to be pierced by one of the security men man-killing bullets. Being the leader of the op and the most informed, he drew out the fool proof plan for this food heist two days ago: infiltrate code named Mr Frowny's mansion, get to his stocked up kitchen through the nexus air vents of the mansion and successfully empty out his ever-growing trash into a slightly large sack and zoom! ,and when I mean thrash, I mean good food!, ironic I guess. His dangerous-looking canine had been subdued as Mary and I sneaked out of our haven every night since the day before yesterday hurling cookies coated with sleeping drugs over the fence as we prentended to walk past his 12-foot concrete structure talking loudly to prevent suspicion from the two mildly armoured security men taking turns to move around the fence. Fortunately for all of us at UFC, the first phase of the plan worked; we couldn't hear Bingo's loud barkings the next morning, he must have eaten the drugged cookies and crashed out and since Mr Collins wasn't the

k three years ago;the coronavirus pandemic hit the globe and affected everyone, most especially the dependent population in developing countries like mine; Nigeria. Our generous sponsors and cheerful givers suddenly became misers, it seemed even the government had forgotten about us, our daily ration began to dwindle both in quantity and quality not to even mention the excursions that became what was only to be dreamt about!. A week ago, everyone at the UFC except the under tens had embarked on an impromptu morning fast to minimise our consumption rate and conserve our supplies consequently expanding our survivability to three days, which meant that in three days, we will be completely out of what to eat!. The matrons tried to smile off the stress of their anxious face to put us at ease but you can't easily put a bunch of smart sixteen year olds that can smell extreme hunger from a 'distance' of three

t, we would wear our 'heist kit',take my bike and Dan's skateboard and stroll down to the store. The plan wasn't a hard one; I would sneak into the generator house of the supermarket and kill the power of the store right after Anthony enters the store

lf" Anthony commented, putting on his black beani

that I haven't just done this before, that's what ", I managed to voice out while struggling

dly as we rode out of the UFC...

cided to aid our op, making us look like shadows in the gross darkness. Only the streetlights and the light emitted from the white generator-powered bulbs of the supermark

you hear the semi -silent vibration of the generator caged in an unlocked metal frame, don't bother looking for the light switch, 'cos one single switch puts on like...... four to five light bulbs, some which are outside right over where the security are posted, aside that, they've got a bunch of surveillance system, CCTVs and motion sensors placed in wild unthinkable locations of which unf

I had to do deal with security!" The thought o

got guns or knives, just some piece of turning stick-looking wood they call baton and by the way, I can sense it from your confu

ease me off just

rd tasks and yours is just to sli

n't easy as you made it sound. What if the plan gets busted and they switch to an alternative light source as soon as you kill the power wherea

and paranoia. He was trying to play safe, kee

so and then what do you do?..... you wait. Easy-peasy. Then when you hear my voice over the talkie again, start moving and meet me in the safe zone. All t

onded weakly with col

cing the direction we ar

in everything you d

't Tony,