Samuel Otareri is back again with another interesting post on Cockroaches have milk. Read and enjoy:
Somebody epp me, I can’t breath.
A study conducted by the Institute for Stem Cell Biology and Regenerative Medicine in India in 2016 found milk from the Pacific beetle cockroach, native for Australia, China, Hawaii and India, contained three times the energy of dairy milk.
It better be their own Cockroach in Austrasontin o! Or India.
So if sontin happen, like for example now, the same people come back in 2019 to do gofment again and there’s no money to buy ordinary cowbell sachet milik of 20 naira, this oyinbo pipo are saying we can start harvesting cockroaches.
Oluwa gbawa o.
Those smelly things that wear three piece suits and run faster than Agofure motors. I die fes before I eat one. Yuck!
By the way, they like to live in soak away o. Soooak awaaay!!
Please God don’t let us see what will make us eat Cockroach, tori olohun.
And if it happen, please take me the way you took Moses jeje, ha! Cockroach!
Ba’ a mi l’ Oke. 😞
Pat say shebi I use to eat frog.
Ehen, and then?
“You want to compare frog and Cockroach? You can’t compare them. One live inside water and land, the other stupid thing live in soakaway.” I say.
“The two of them are impossible. But frog is worse.” She say.
I say, “baiby, have riespect, frog has meat.”
She look at me as if I have suddenly grown webs between my fingers.
“Cockroach have milk.” She say.
I get up and say, “babe, now you insult milk. Be careful.”
Me and her, we was sharing one plate of hungry man indomie before this weird report came. No eggs. Just indomie like that.
The frog sellers have not come out, I would have bought some to beautify the scenery and conjugate the cool evening tastefully.
But I know if I put frog in the indomie, Pat would have flown into an Aba women riot, so what I would have done is cut the frog into pieces, discard the claws and head, and garnish all of them together with curry and thyme.
(Curry and thyme be saving broke folks since Cain took his sister in the marriage way.)
“Besides, meat is a culprit in cancer cases.” Pat is saying.
“Red meat.” I say.
“Meat is meat.” Pat say as she uses her fork to pick the last coil of Noddles in vain.
“Frog meat is not red.”
“Ehen, what color is it then?”
I snicker. Even me don’t know what Burgundy is. It just enter my mouth the way things use to enter my mouth this few days. Maybe I m broke is why. Or maybe is more meat I m in need of.
“What kind of milk do you suppose a Cockroach who is born and bred in the soak away will have?” I ask.
“Abnormal milk.” I say.
“Milk is milk.”
“Cockroach milk is a chemical weapon.” I say.
Pat finally gets the last coil of noodle to get up on the fork.
She eat it. I take the plate to the kitchen. She comes to the kitchen too and we wash it together.
Later, I m seeing her off to her place. We pass by our soak away and I m thinking maybe Cockroach milk may not be an entirely preposterous idea.
(Prepostewhat? What does that one mean again?)
“What does preposterous mean?”
“The act of coming early.”
“What! Come on gurl.”