Tolu liked to associate with good-looking people. He would never consider friendship with anyone whose looks did not appeal to him. He would move around town with his friends to let everyone know that he had lovely people around him. His definition of ugly was ugly, and that heightened his pomposity and his overzealousness in his inclination to love only those that looked lovely.
One day, he went on a jaunt to the woods, with ten of his friends. He was so drunk that he did not see the small muddy pond, hidden beside a brush, and in the next moment he ended up inside.
“Help me,” he cried out. Only his head and hands were visible, and they were completely soiled with mud.
His friends squirmed backwards in anxiety, confused of what to do.
“Help me, please,” he continued, but none of them was ready to make the first move.
“Try and stay afloat while I go call for help,” one of them said. “It’s a dirty pond and we don’t want to get stained.”
“Help me, I’m dying!”
The young man that responded to the call was dazed as he heard the clamour of the voices of the nine people standing by the pond.
“I thought you needed help,” he said to Tolu, “but now I can see that you don’t. If ten people cannot help you, what can one person do? I’m sorry.” He turned and sauntered away.
Tolu’s eyes widened in pain as it dawned on him that he had substituted inward worth for fine outward appearances.
Copyright © 2016 by P. A. Owala
All rights reserved.