It is almost midnight on a Saturday.

The person who writes RamiTalks publishes a new post on the blog.

As per normal the person sends a teaser from the new post to the person’s friends through WhatsApp and Facebook.

What happens next is not normal: she reaches for her makeup bag which just happens to be sitting beside her laptop. Wait….who applies makeup at midnight? Is it not witches who do that??

Normal? Well….there’s not much that is normal about RamiTalks. Wouldn’t you agree? Wait, you mean you didn’t know RamiTalks was written by….?

Okay, you should know that the second author of RamiTalks and I have a very personal relationship. Do you want to know how close we are? Well, every time she tousles my hair, which is quite often, I get the feeling that she is trying to find out if my brain is ripe enough. Enough for what? I don’t know; I don’t have enough hair to be tousled.

I’ve heard several rumours about the authorship of RamiTalks and I have been asked several searching questions, but none of the rumours has been verifiable. For example, I understand the author was dropped as a child. I don’t believe this. I suspect she was thrown. She has other weird traits. For example, her eating habits: she loves banku, big banku. She would eat a worm if it was served with banku.

It’s all a bit strange because when I first met her after the concept of RamiTalks was mooted, I could only marvel at how lovely she was. In fact, my first raps were quite clever: “Hello darling. Have you been taking any ‘gorgeous’ pills? You might just make me do something filthy right here and now.” And a great mistress/servant relationship was born.

But I digress. In this its third year RamiTalks has taken on a life of its own. There have been several occasions when the author has been observed laughing hysterically as he/she pounds away at his/her laptop. No one seems to know why. By the by, and this is important, is the author married?

I am almost certain that he is, but she on the other hand….it’s hard to tell. Married men are easily identifiable: they walk like they have been arrested. Married women….I’m not so sure. Other than the fact that they are very authoritative (actually tyrannical), how else can you tell that a woman is married? Please don’t answer that just yet.

Also, he is very religious. I mean, sometimes he prays again before consuming his fourth helping of fufu and light soup. Wouldn’t you, if you were trying to force food down when there is no more space? But is she religious? Well, how would you describe someone who issues commands in her sleep….in another language?

Yet another difference between these two: she can dance, and he declines to because he does not like public displays of rhythm. Why not? I don’t think even he knows why. But I can dance when push comes to shove! Wait….couldn’t that be a new dance: Push Shove??!?

But it must be said, sometimes he needs her to be able to write this blog. And if it so happens that she is not around he summons her by a clearly established routine: he draws a pentagram on the floor in a darkened (not dark) room and says, “I summon thee”, three times. And, voila, her broom touches down. I mean, it’s not like she worships the devil or anything like that (as far as I know she doesn’t have to: he worships her). Anyway, all I’m saying is that she has been to hell and back so often that she should have frequent flyer miles.

Once I asked her whether there wasn’t a carcass somewhere she should be hovering over….the horrific look that appeared on her face is etched in my memory. It took me a week to realise that she had smiled. That’s the kind of effect she has on me as she writes RamiTalks. Although, it’s not really a look; more like a sound, and I struggle to define it. It makes me want to kick a puppy through an industrial fan, one set at high speed. I once tried to blink when she engaged me in a prolonged staring bout….I gave up when my eyes made a scratching sound. Seriously.

Do you know I almost never write RamiTalks to music? When I’m allowed to write it, that is….life is too short to go without music for any length of time. But when we first started writing I thought there was a mutual fascination and that made it worthwhile. Do you know we actually started getting physical?? The one and only time this happened I was heading frantically for her earlobes (or was it her toes?), but I had to undertake a sudden and violent re-routing when it was suggested.

I don’t remember where I ended up. But I do know that I was cured of any fascination. It wasn’t mutual after all. Now she can jack her mammary glands up to the Northern Region of Ghana and I wouldn’t care. I will not be poked and prodded by a well-lubricated, man-eating, vegan creature.

Was it not Napoleon who said, “In politics, stupidity is not a handicap”? Well, in writing…I am handicapped with a natural immaturity, but it is not in my DNA. And that is why I wrote this post, for those of you who have accused me of not writing it myself, and especially for those of you who are convinced that there is some devilry involved, because I make you laugh whenever and wherever. Now you know that I have no sense of decency….because that way my other five senses are enhanced.

By the by, who is writing now? Him or Her?