It Is Quiet A Dark Night

It is quite a dark night but the street is lighted by some light bulbs.Most of the buildings in the neighborhood are long overdue for total renovations.

A ragged looking man could be seen lying on the floor in front of one of the houses.He was sound asleep and snoring deeply.

A light came on inside the house and a skinny and shabbily dressed woman opened the front door of the house and looked outside.She was a bit startled when she saw the man but she regained her composure when she saw that it was her husband whom she’d been waiting for.

She walked towards him and tried to wake him but he slept on soundly.She kicked him hard on his side but he snored more loudly.She went inside to take some water and doused his face with it but he didnt wake up.

“Alcohol is going to kill you someday”, she muttered angrily.

The woman tried to drag him inside but he was too heavy.She left him there and went inside after she’d covered him with a blanket.

A neighbor found his cold dead body very early in the morning.


An Ode to the Fighting Game Genre

Gaming Grad

If you were to pick one word to describe your experiences with the fighting game genre, what would you choose? I would choose ‘thrilling’.

Imagine yourself in the loser’s bracket at a local tournament, in the final round of a three-set match where both you and your opponent are  tied. It’s sudden death, and only one winner can emerge while the loser walks away empty-handed. Your heart’s beating faster than a drum, your entire body covered in a cold, nervous sweat; the room only gets hotter with what feels like a million people packed into a single conference hall and dozens of machines running simultaneously. But none of this matters, you are entirely focused on the match, on winning. Your mind races as you try to find the best strategy to take down the foe, but you come up blank. You’ve made it this far, all that’s left…

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Storytelling: A Disney/Pixar Perspective

Lynette Noni

My amazing publishers, Pantera Press, uploaded a post the other day titled: Pixar’s 22 Rules for Great Storytelling. Some of the ‘rules’ are so inspirational that I just have to share them with you all. (And, hey, you know how much I love anything even remotely Disney-related!).

You can click on the link above to read the entire post (and see where all the info comes from). Otherwise, enjoy these true storytelling gems! My favourites are numbers 6, 13 and (especially) 19. Have a read and let me know which ones you like best!


Aren’t they awesome? I certainly think so!

If you’re interested, you can follow my publishers on Facebook by clicking here.

You can also follow me by clicking here.

Thanks again (as always) for reading!

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Super Chickens

The Super Eagles of Nigeria underperformed in their first group stage match on Monday night. The Brazil 2014 World Cup has been quite an interesting tournament so far and a lot of the already played matches will go down in history. The game between Spain and Netherlands which ended five goals to one in favor of Netherlands was a particularly surprising and unexpected result.

Many expected the game between the Super Eagles of Nigeria and Team Melli of Iran to also be an interesting display of soccer action but it turned out to be the most boring match of the World Cup so far. It was also the first drawn match and it even ended goalless with few chances created by the two teams.

Although some people claimed that the draw was due to the defensive approach by Team Melli, I completely disagree. The Super Eagles played like a team without a gameplan. They were tactically and mentally weak. They gave away possession easily and their performance mirrored some of the performances of Manchester United in the previous season.

Coach Stephen Keshi looked like a confused man. A good coach should have been able to execute a more attacking strategy to overcome Iran. The introduction of Sola Ameobi and Osaze Odemwingie added a little spark to the attack but it wasn’t enough to produce a goal.

Team Melli achieved exactly what they wanted and I must commend them for a job well-done. They almost even got a goal by Reza. That would have been a match winner because there was no way Nigeria would have equalized that goal.

I think that it is pretty safe to say that the Nigeria Team should now be known as the Super Chickens. They didn’t soar like Eagles at all. They were more like over-fed Broilers.

I hope they don’t get disgraced by Bosnia-Herzegovina and Argentina in the other two group F matches.

You can follow me on twitter @scientist47


A Hot Afternoon

I walked out of the security door of the bank and I was immediately hit by the hot breath of air from the street. I felt like going back into the air-conditioned comfort of the bank.

I walked briskly down the road. There are a lot of people walking on the two sides of the street and there are lots of shops on both sides of the street. I went past a dry-cleaner’s shop. He was trying to put on his generator (I-Pass-My-Neighbor), but it was proving to be a difficult task.

It is around two o’clock in the afternoon and the sun is brightly shining. Most of the pedestrians are sweating profusely. I decided to cross to the other side of the street when I got to a Zebra crossing. I wait with the group of people I met at the crossing.

Cars speed by without coming to a halt behind the white lines across the road. The pedestrians, myself included, are too seasoned to trust the Nigerian motorists to obey the traffic rules. We waited patiently for a chance to cross the road.

A shabbily dressed teenage boy barged into me while I was crossing the road with the group of pedestrians. He immediately apologised. His breath smells like liquor. The smell of food from a nearby restaurant welcomed me to the other side of the street. My stomach growls in response and I remembered that I haven’t eaten lunch. I went into the restaurant and sat down at a table close to the window.

A lovely waitress brought my order and after a brief prayer I began eating. It was Amala and Abula soup with a large chicken thigh. I savored every morsel of the meal. I checked my wrist watch and saw that it was a few minutes to three. After I’d washed my hands and cleaned it with a napkin, I dipped my hands into the back pocket of my trouser so as to bring out my wallet but it wasn’t there. It wasn’t also in any of the other pockets of my clothing.