Son of a gun

I get out of bed and my knees creak.
Lately, they creak more and more.

When I was younger, I ran track. 100, 200 metres.
In school, the other students called me Bullet.
As I darted around from end to end.

I could have been a champion, they said.
Could have been. Like everything else in my life.

Now I’m here and I struggle.
With the knees.
They creak going up the stairs. They creak on turns.

This month I have a walking stick.
Last month, I had knee braces.

Nothing helps.
creak, creak
This shouldn’t be happening to the Bullet.

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20 thoughts on “Son of a gun

  1. Thank you for the “yet again” fantastic posts today! The second one is like a very well written Nollywood storyline lol

    I’m taking guesses at what your new experiment is and I’m HOPING that it’s bi-daily/bi-weekly posts *GRINS HAPPILY* lol.

    • Here is an interesting social experiment. Give a man 50 naira every day for a week for no reason. On the day you stop giving him the 50 naira the man will turn on you like the money was his the whole time.

      Wipe that grin off your face, there are no bi-daily/bi-weekly posts. I don’t want people turning on me when I revert to single posts.
      *eyeroll* I spoil you.

  2. So much on me thinking I am the stalker. How did you find my true identity?!? (this world aint safe no longer…##creeeeppppppyyyyy####…lolz. How are you? I liked this!

  3. I love it that i stayed away from yours till today… i came over and got triple delight posts…

    I feel like the bullet sometimes. Only, i never was a bullet, more like a snail, but even the snail pace gets a creak or two in my brain. I want to be carried about like a princess every other day… It’s too much work to walk. *sigh*

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