Ermmm, Ermmm, Ermmm…

‘Don’t blame me! Carry your wahala and go,’ Mavrodi seems to be saying.

You look out of your window and it feels like a cat just ran across your fence. Nothing seems to make sense to you of late. You know you messed up but you choose to be the blind bat to the truth.

These days you think a lot, you must be up to an invention. Don’t bother me, your grief na your creation. Your dreams of a fun filled Christmas celebration is in the past now. You now look up to your relations who used to kiss your feet to determine your fate. Your greed gave birth to your sorrow and now all you want to do is borrow. You been wan pack money with barrow but now you are feeding from the bin. Your sorrow is now the source of joy and entertainment to some. Christmas is going to be anything but a blast.
Your savings recently got a visa, booked a flight and flew without hitches to Russia. While you were busy rushing to get wealthy, your cash arrived safely in Putin’s terrain. The money you put into the scheme got a strong pull out game. Your cash promises to come back to you in January if the plane doesn’t crash like the scheme has been rumoured to.
In fact, you will be a boss by January. Just stop bothering yourself about full-time, you only heard the half time whistle. It’s either you bounce back in the second half or you get beaten silly . No stalemate in this situation.
Now, ย here’s a clue. New Year might be great ๐Ÿ˜‚ but for this Christmas, hunger will eat you from the back and then beat you black and blue till greed makes you bleed.
Merry Christmas Mavrodians. ๐Ÿ˜ข

Horse Thing

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