Never Rob a Woman in Pajamas by Afronuts


‘Wetin dis girl wear so? No be pinjamas be dat?’ Wasiu whispered harshly, his hemp smelling breath fanning across Rasaq’s cheeks.

Rasaq squinted and furrowed his nose. Though he had spent majority of his lifetime living amongst weed smokers who tried to buy his interest by exaggerating its purported ‘benefits’, he still could not generate an iota of affinity for the infamous herb.

‘E be like so oh’, He replied frowning to focus as if his vision could zoom in.

They were poised to operate for the night; Wasiu with motorbike revving and ready, Rasaq seated behind with a locally fabricated pistol held tightly in his right hand positioned for action. Their target was a lone female figure strolling briskly along the dark edges of Ayanikoro neighborhood; the areas that the poorly lit streetlights failed to illuminate.

She actually was in a weird white outfit that looked pajamas with a pair of sandals. Though she wore a haircut, her gait, the presence of a full backside and pointed breasts was what assured them that she was female. She carried a rucksack on her back and a polythene bag in her right hand.


‘Ore, we must make sure say this one no be shit oh.’ Wasiu said bringing Rasaq’s memory back to a failed operation days ago where they had unknowingly snatched a bag of used diapers containing baby crap from a nursing mother at a deserted busstop.

Rasaq dipped his left finger into his jeans pocket and tugged at the inner linen to free his testicles. The jeans he was wearing was tight and making his crotch uncomfortable. There wasn’t even space for him to wear boxers. His love for the way the jeans amplified his swag and hunky leg muscles overshadowed the fact that it was also an agony for his large privates.

‘Make we move?’ Wasiu was getting tired of waiting.

Rasaq took one last survey of the surroundings then nodded.

Wasiu swung the motorbike into motion and cruised swiftly down the partially dark corners of the street.

Rasaq dropped some distance away from the pajama clad girl who didn’t even glance back to see what was transpiring behind her.

This chick is careless oh. She’s not even bothered that she might be in danger, he thought as he snuck up slowly behind trying to catching up with her pace.

Wasiu then cruised the motorbike ahead, overtaking her and parking in the distance ahead, hidden from sight under the cover of darkness.

Rasaq caught up with her, his pistol lifted to initiate threat.

‘Hey, you!’ He called out sternly.

The lady didn’t stop walking but she turned to see who was behind.

‘Stop right there or I dash you two bullets!’ Rasaq barked quietly.

He could see her more clearly. She was cute and kind of portly with a well chiseled dark face creviced with dimples. She wore stud earrings, no make-up and seemed to be have been sweating lightly.

She stopped when she noticed the gun in his hand. Her jaw fell open in shock. It was an indicator that she least expected to ever be in such a situation. But rather than fret in fear, she remained firm and somewhat confident.

Rasaq surveyed the booty – the one she carried in her hand and on her shoulder, and the one she carried on her backside. The latter wasn’t part of the plan but Rasaq just couldn’t resist big bottomed women. It was his weakness; his curse. He felt his crotch threatened to revolt under the tightness of his jeans.

‘Gimme that bag, now!’ he barked under his breath waving the gun at her. He sensed a little flutter in his voice; his lustful desire was conflicting with his primary focus.

She looked at him for a moment before dropping the bags in front of her, not too far from her feet.

Rasaq moved to pick the bags.

Wasiu moved to pick Rasaq.

The lady moved…on the two of them.

What happened next was so swift that Rasaq and Wasiu didn’t have enough time to comprehend it.

As Rasaq got closer to where the bags lay, the girl in pajamas went into a fast circular spin lifting up an outstretched leg which deflected the pistol from his hand.

Before he could recover from that, she had gone into another spin, this time crouching lower and aiming her outstretched leg for his legs.

Rasaq felt himself going airborne as his legs where wacked off the floor. He landed on his back a terrified gasp and shock escaped him with the impact.

As Wasiu rode up to the scene, he was also met with a roundhouse kick to the jaw that threw him off the motorbike. He hit the road and found himself rolling off an edge and crashing into a gutter. The motorcycle fell forward on its side, skidding across the asphalt and creating sparks until it stopped some distance away, engine still running.

Rasaq picked himself up, angry, dazed out of his mind and ready to attack when he found himself starring into the barrel of his own local pistol.

The pajama lady was pointing the gun between his eyes. She was panting heavily, her full bosom moving to the rhythm. She wore this enraged look on her face that made him instantly raise his hands in surrender.

Wasiu crawled out of the gutter dripping with water and slime. Spoiling for retaliation he stealthily crept up behind her to grab her from behind. Unfortunately, he had been foolish enough to think she had forgotten about him and that he could still handle her; for him, once beaten did not result in being twice shy – a dumb lesson gathered from rough experiences at the garage.

He grabbed her from behind, locking her arms in a gripping embrace. She reacted instantly bending into an angle that enabled her to step to one side, grab his legs and yank them off the ground. Wasiu screamed as he hit the ground, the back of his head scooping dirt.

She straightened up in a stance that reeked of martial authority and commandeered them with the gun.

‘The two of you get down on your knees before I do worse!’ She barked. It was the first time they were hearing her voice. It was very feminine; cheeky vibrato yet tough.

They scuttled over to obey her command; the fear of an unpredictable butt-kicking damsel wielding a gun was the beginning of wisdom.

‘How dare you attack me! Have you no shame?’ her angry voice rang disturbingly in their ears. Rasaq became wary that she might trigger the gun in her rage.

‘No vex…na miscalculation…’ he pleaded betrayed by a shaky voice.

Wasiu gave him a disappointed look. Though they had been overpowered, he didn’t believe they needed to suck up to her as he felt Rasaq was doing.

‘Shut up. Do you know I could have killed you both if I wanted to?’ She said, her angry voice had now reduced to a cold uneasy calm one.

That was when Rasaq and Wasiu had their Eureka moment of realization. She hadn’t been wearing pajamas; she had been sporting a martial arts uniform.

‘Bad market.’ Wasiu hissed with regret under his breath.

‘What did you say?’ she asked with a suspicious scowl.

‘Nothing ma.’ Wasiu lied alarmed at his own response.

Did he just call her ‘ma’? Wasiu the baale of ghetto and garage chicks just called a girl ‘ma’?

‘Now get the hell out of here before I decide to empty your own bullets or gun powder into you!’

Rasaq took off towards where the bike lay. Wasiu hesitantly remained.

‘What?’ She queried his refusal to leave.

‘Eermm…you fit give us the…ermm…gun back?’

The local pistol  had cost them a lot to fabricate.

She looked at him then at the gun and laughed.

‘You wish!’ She yelled at him and flung the pistol into a nearby wide canal that had water gushing through. Wasiu watched bug-eyed with despair as the pistol submerged under the dirty waves of overlapping water.

‘Are you still standing there?’

She had assumed a stance; one that reminded him of ‘Snake in the monkey shadow’ an old kung-fu movie he’d seen many times. His jaw and head still ached badly, and dirt still tasted in his mouth from the beating she had given him earlier.

There was enough reason not to desire second helpings of another one. He got up and took off after Rasaq.

‘Next time no dey suggest make we go after woman wey wear pinjamas’ Wasiu grumbled as he climbed up behind Rasaq on the motorbike.

Rasaq said nothing. The shame from being floored by a female seemed to have seized his capability for speech.

They heard laughter behind them.

It was the girl; arms akimbo, defiant, looking at them and having a hell of a last laugh.

Rasaq fired the motorbike and they zoomed away from the vicinity and out of sight before the shame became something else.

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Afronuts blogs at the Kush Chronicles. This story was published as "Night Riders - Pajama Wonder" on both his blog and Naijastories. You can check out some of his other fiction here.