Kidnapping Father Christmas: Chapter 7 – Nigerian Christmas Story, Funny, Kidnap Santa Clause, Adventure, Children and Mischief, Free Web Novel, Fabling, Pam
Atutu stormed into the hideout, his face twisted in anger as he cursed under his breath. The frustration was palpable.
“Ọga, calm down. Wetin happen?” Ọ̀gbeni asked, taking a drag from his cigar, trying to make sense of Atutu’s rage.
Atutu continued to vent, his words spilling out in a rapid stream of frustration before he finally explained, “As I reach the school, na so them tell me say Oyinbo commot and hin no come back. I con dey there dey wait, but the Baalẹ́ too con show and him pikin no con leave hin side as Father Christmas no show for the school, so I no get way kidnap her.”
“Where Oyinbo?” Ọ̀gbeni asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“I no know. Hin never show,” Atutu said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Make we wait for hin house. Where he wan go hide?” Ọ̀gbeni suggested, and the two hoodlums decided to head over to Oyinbo’s house, figuring that he’d show up eventually. They waited there through the night, unaware of the chaos brewing elsewhere.
Meanwhile, back at the hideout, the children had finished tying up Father Christmas, making sure he couldn’t move or make a sound. Satisfied with their work, they left him in the dark storehouse and returned to school to enjoy the Christmas party, blissfully unaware of the confusion and sadness spreading among the teachers and students due to the missing Father Christmas.
The next morning, just as the sun was beginning to rise, Aboki, Bayo, Osas, and Otomokpo arrived at Chukwuma’s house. They snuck around to the back, avoiding any adults, and made their way to the dark, musty storehouse. Armed with a torchlight, they found Oyinbo still asleep, his snores echoing in the small space.
“How should we wake him up?” Osas asked, peering at the sleeping figure.
“Should we shake him?” someone suggested.
“No, we need him to take us seriously,” Chukwuma objected, thinking of a more intimidating approach.
“Let’s hit him with a stick,” Otomokpo offered, holding up a nearby piece of wood.
“Is it not the stick we use to off his light? You want to kill him?” Bayo retorted, rolling his eyes.
Chukwuma thought for a moment, then asked, “Who here can slap well?”
The question was met with a chorus of raised hands, each child eager to prove their slapping prowess.
“You cannot slap more than me,” Osas bragged, puffing out her chest.
“Oya, let’s try,” Bayo challenged, crossing his arms.
“My slap pass all your slap join,” Otomokpo boasted, his eyes glinting with determination.
“Oya, let’s compete. Slap yourselves; the first to cry loses,” Chukwuma declared, stepping back to play the role of judge. “Me, I cannot slap, so I will be the judge.”
The challenge was set. “Oya now, me that my mummy has been slapping me since I was born,” Osas said, blowing on her hand as if preparing for battle.
“On your mark, set, go! Otomokpo slap first,” Chukwuma commanded.
Otomokpo spread his fingers wide and delivered a thunderous slap to Osas’s face. The sound echoed in the small room, but Osas didn’t flinch, only turning her head slightly without shedding a tear. Encouraged, Otomokpo then slapped Bayo, who froze for a moment, his eyes widening in shock.
“Oya Bayo, go!” Chukwuma said, urging him on.
Bayo, now determined, blew on his hand before delivering a revenge slap to Otomokpo, sending him spinning in confusion. He then slapped Osas, who let out a small yelp but managed to keep her composure.
“Osas, are you ready?” Chukwuma asked, noticing the fire in her eyes as she nodded.
Osas raised her hand high, like a warrior ready to strike, and brought it down with the force of a hammer on Bayo’s cheek. The impact was immediate—Bayo froze, his eyes watering before tears streamed down his face as he clutched his burning cheek.
Otomokpo, seeing the ferocity of Osas’s slap, tried to make a run for it, but Chukwuma and Aboki quickly held him down, pressing his face to the ground. Without wasting time, Osas descended on his hard cheek with another powerful slap, and Otomokpo let out a scream that Chukwuma quickly muffled.
“Shut up, they will catch us,” Chukwuma hissed, glancing around nervously.
“Let them catch us now,” Otomokpo whined, tears streaming down his face as he cried in pain.
With the slapping contest over and Osas declared the greatest slapper in the world, Chukwuma and Otomokpo stepped aside, making way for Osas to deliver the final slap—to Father Christmas.
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