My coke and a 5 piecer delivered spicy? I

My wife, my problem. Any newcomer to this, the problem of a wife remains the chief threat to humanity after World War Two.
A wife will wake up, go back to sleep, wake up again, then go back to
sleep again to wake up and whisper “No sex”. She would do it so subtly
and gently you’ll think it doesn’t bother her. Then, she will turn and
squeeze the pillow as if milking life out of cotton. If that doesn’t
bother you, she will proceed to give you time to think about what she
said. Then when it is quite clear that it doesn’t bother you, it bothers
her.
I procured a beautiful wife a few years back. She gave me a beautiful
daughter called Fikayo. On better days, I take them for a swim and eat
ice cream later. On not so good days, Fikayo visits her granny and I
visit the barbershop. This is not to say that I don’t enjoy the good
God-given life I have. I do – who doesn’t enjoy KFC’s 1-litre coke and a
5 piecer delivered spicy? I just prefer the barber’s jokes.
It is the night before – Fikayo has not been sent to her granny. In
fact, there is a debate whether she should be sent to her granny, my
mother, or her aunt Vivi – not blood related and a campus BFF of hers –
who I once caught smoking sheesha with some random guy I will one day
introduce to her husband. Anyway, Fikayo is sound asleep; the other one
pretends to be doing dishes.
“Someone left the bathroom lights on.” She nearly yells as she retires to join me in bed.
It is a relatively warm night so it’s highly unlikely that anything
anyone will tell me will shake me. I am sleeping – perhaps more soundly
than Fikayo.
She walks herself out of bed to go use the bathroom. This time, someone remembers to switch off the lights.
“People should learn how to switch off lights before they sleep.” I think she is speaking to herself. I sleep on.
Thirty minutes later, I think I am dreaming of something rather
amorous. It is very rare to have a wife in a dream that is not a
nightmare so don’t start accusing me of being the man you are not.
Leave it.
So far, my dream is coming along just well. It must be the Maldives
–  on a beach in a not so cold and not so hot month. Colors are bright,
and skies are clear. The women are just perfect – they all smile
willingly. No chocolate, no flowers, no dress, no shoes, no handbag, and
certainly no meeting of mischievous demands. I smile back, I think. As I
scheme an elaborate plan to obtain her name, phone number and at least
one of her social media handles, a certain breeze hits my nerves that I
remember the other hot chick who’d promised me a massage at the hotel.
I wake up before I get back to the hotel. She is also awake and seems to have taken away all the blankets.
“I hope you remember I said no sex.” She says.
“I don’t remember – but who cares! Who wants sex?” I say in my head.
I calmly smile and go back to sleep. She wakes up and switches on the lights.
“Have we decided on where Fikayo goes tomorrow?” As if announcing, and making impressions of a tear gas victim.
“Yes, let her go to Vivi’s if she’s okay with it,” I reply.
“It’s okay. We’ll take her to your mother. I know that is what you wanted.” She comes back.
I’m perplexed at that point. One thing with me when I’m perplexed, I
tend to delve into a certain deep sleep that I don’t wake up until the
next day.
I wake up the next day – quite energized. Fikayo is missing from her
room. A note on her bed says – I’ve gone to granny. Then I remember that
her mom was also missing from our bed. They must have gone to my mom’s.
So, I head to the living room right away.
There she is. Apparently, she’s back. She dropped Fikayo and came back right away.
She informs me that she’s ordered a 5 piecer and coke from KFC for
the brief weekend it’s going to be. Too bad, I had an appointment with
the barber. In fact, I wash my face and leave in an instant.
Who wants sex?