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'Men in Black' are flash fictions written to recreate various scenes of recklessness by uniform men in our society.
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Shit! It's cold out here, like winter in Russia. What the fuck am I doing out in the cold this late? I can barely see myself, and I can't feel my face. Hey, that's my wife, why is she looking so pale and hopeless? How did we get here? She isn't making any move to get up from the tarmac, why should we be lying by the road?

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"Bisi, let's get going" no movement, no response. Seems she doesn't hear me speak perhaps asleep, I need to wake her, we obviously can't sleep out here in this cold.

Shit! Why can't I stand? Is that a hole in my chest. I am soaked in blood, obviously shot.

I think I need a rest, am feeling dizzy, really dizzy, I need to sleep. This tarmac is comfortable, better than my shitty bed.

"It's a trick, you are gonna be dead if you sleep. By morning you would be referred to as Late Bode"

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What is my head telling me, I really need to sleep but would it be my last?

Ten minutes ago I was driving at top gear, racing with my Toyota Camry. I was on my way to the hospital, I needed to get there fast, my wife was in labour, about to deliver our first son. Am sure it was going to be a boy, the ultrasound had givenĀ  us that result, kudos to science.

Then we got to an awkward roadblock, I halted hesitantly, it was the famous beggers again, hunters of men. Hunters with no headlamp but a tourch in one hand and an Ak-47 in the other. Dressed in black they asked for the usual. What where they doing here this night?

"Oga give us something for the night"

"I have nothing my friends, and madam is in labour"

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Then came the huge hunter, not looking in the mood for my talk.

"Look give us what we need, make we free you, no time for rubbish"

Not police like, need to get out of here. I started the engine and zoomed off.Ā  The men in black hop into their van and begin to pursue me. In a mess, I try my best to run. NASCAR racing begins, but they are the pro. The van overtakes me and forms a blockade. No way out for me.

The men drop from the van and drag me out of my vehicle. The huge hunter hits me on my forehead with the bottom of his AK-47 and Bam!!!

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Ayeni TolulopeĀ is graduate of religious studies. He writes, read and act in another world. His works can be viewed at. Or Add him on Facebook @chris.tolu

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