The Five Grand Charm

 

The Voodoo Rent Plan

A Nigerian Dark Comedy About Two Broke Friends, a Witch Doctor, and the Most Embarrassing Plan in Landlord History*

Intro

Two broke friends, five thousand dollars they cannot afford to spend on rent, and a plan so bad it could only end in disaster. Emy and Billy decide that paying a witch doctor to bewitch their landlord is smarter than simply paying rent. What follows is a Nigerian dark comedy about voodoo, terrible ideas, and the kind of coincidence that only happens when karma has a very good sense of humour. Written with Nigerian Pidgin English and English translations, this story proves that sometimes the universe does not punish you — it just lets you embarrass yourself completely first.

Author Note: My dear readers, thank you for visiting my blog. This story has a blend of Nigerian Pidgin English, and I hope the translations in brackets help my global visitors. I just want the world to know that learning a new language can be a lot of fun. Thank you, and if you would like to learn more, let me know in the comments and I will do my best.

A Quick Guide to Nigerian Pidgin English

Before we begin, here is something worth knowing. Nigerian Pidgin English is a creole language spoken by an estimated 75 to 100 million people across Nigeria. It is not broken English — it is a complete linguistic system with its own grammar, rhythm, and cultural expressiveness. It developed during the colonial period as a contact language between different ethnic groups and has since become one of the most widely understood forms of communication across all regions of Nigeria, cutting across tribal and social lines.

Throughout this story, Pidgin phrases appear naturally in the dialogue, exactly as they would be spoken on Nigerian streets. Every phrase is translated in brackets so that international readers can follow along — and perhaps pick up a few expressions worth keeping.

Lesson 1: The Errand — When a Bad Plan Sounds Better Than the Obvious Solution

"Did you hear that?" Emy asked his friend as they walked that night. It was a cold night with a little bit of snow that drizzled, and the two friends were walking, looking for a landmark that had been described to them. They needed to find a particular tree shaped like a fork with an owl sitting on the middle branch.

Emy was the one who looked like he could snap a tree with his bare hands — big and strong with lots of muscle, and a jaw that looked like a chainsaw. But what many people didn't know was that he was a coward, afraid of even a rat. That night was one of his nightmarish nights, knowing anything could happen, and he clung close to his friend Billy.

Billy was thin and looked like the wind would break him in two. He had that innocent look, but he was strong and had a temper that could boil water.

Note for readers: Emy and Billy are one of the great comic pairings in TwistedStories — the physically imposing coward and the physically slight hothead. This kind of pairing is a cornerstone of comedy writing across every culture and era, from Laurel and Hardy to the countless duos in Nollywood films. The contrast works because it subverts expectation: the person who looks dangerous is harmless, and the person who looks harmless is the one you should be worried about. Pay attention to Billy throughout this story. He is thin as a reed and absolutely responsible for everything that happens.

Lesson 2: Into the Dark — When the Wrong Plan Gets Debated on the Way to the Wrong Place

"Heard what?" Billy snapped.

"I heard a screeching sound," Emy said, looking around and staying close to Billy.

"Don't be a chicken, man. It could be your joints popping together. You know you're big."

"There," Emy moaned, "I heard it again."

"Sure, if you say so," Billy said nonchalantly.

"What if it is a sign?" Emy asked in a trembling voice.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, we are trying to bewitch our landlord so we don't have to pay rent. We are too broke."

"Do you have to paint the picture of our situation on my face?" Billy said angrily.

"No, I'm just being realistic," Emy said.

At this, Billy laughed, and the sound was so haunting that it echoed in the still night air. Emy closed his eyes, praying no evil would hear that laugh and come to investigate.

"You're being realistic now, eh? Don't go all philosophical on me, please."

"Our rent is five grand," Emy said angrily. "And that guy — what was his name again?" he asked Billy.

"How would I know? He goes by anonymous online."

"Well, he said we could pay the witch doctor five grand and live rent free for as long as we want, right?"

"Sure, that sounds interesting — a free rent forever."

"We could just pay the rent and forget this whole adventure. Nothing good comes out of voodoo."

"If you're scared, you can go back. But if all goes well, you'll be looking for a new place to stay," Billy said to him.

Lesson: Emy says it himself — *we could just pay the rent and forget this whole adventure.* The five thousand dollars they are carrying to give to a witch doctor is the exact same amount as their rent. The obvious solution is in their hands. They are choosing, instead, to walk through a cold night toward an anonymous online tip about a fork-shaped tree and an owl on a branch. This is the sunk cost fallacy in its purest and funniest form — the psychological tendency to commit to a bad plan because abandoning it feels like admitting you were wrong. Billy's temper makes it worse. Emy's cowardice makes it worse. Together, they are two perfectly matched obstacles to their own common sense.

Lesson 3: A Strange Encounter — The Charm That Was Already Not Working

They were silent after that and kept walking. It was getting darker the further they went, and Emy couldn't help hearing that screeching noise. He swallowed hard, looking behind him and into every dark corner. He thought he saw a shadow moving and he jerked back. When Billy laid a hand on his shoulder, he flinched.

"I think someone is coming," Billy said, peering ahead, not entirely sure he was right. But he could hear footsteps coming toward them.

"Should we hide?" Emy asked.

"What for? Are we committing any crime?"

"No, I just thought—" But Billy cut him off. "I don't need you to think, man. You're too dense. Just be the muscle so no one can take the five grand from us."

The footsteps drew nearer and they saw a silhouette walking in a dreamlike state. It was a man, short like a dwarf, with a beard that covered his mouth. He had eyes as small as a bird's, a big head, a small body, and hands not more than half a normal length. He saw them and stopped a few meters away.

"Who are you?" Billy asked him.

"And who are you?" the short man asked back. "Can you see me? How tall am I?"

The two friends looked at each other with a frown.

"No offence, man, but you couldn't reach my waist," Emy said, measuring the man with his hand.

"Are you sure? I was told the first people to see me would determine the effect of the charm."

"What charm?" Billy asked, now interested.

"Seems like you both have bad luck," the man said, looking at them. "Are you sure I'm not tall? I have a date I met online. I've been sending her pictures of my brother, and I just did a charm to look like him."

"Eh, maybe it's because it's night," Emy said. "I guess it would work when you get home, or when your date sees you, since it's for her that you did it."

"That sounds plausible," the man said, nodding. "My name is Anold."

"I'm Emy, and this is Billy. We are looking for the witch doctor."

"Oh, really? It's just ahead. You can't miss it."

They thanked him and started walking, this time with faster feet.

Note for readers: Anold's failed charm — purchased to make himself appear tall to an online date he has been deceiving with his brother's photographs — is a perfect comedic parallel to Emy and Billy's mission. Both situations involve using supernatural means to solve a problem created entirely by dishonesty. Anold is not tall. Emy and Billy do not have rent money. Neither of them is attempting to address the actual root cause of their problem. They are both trying to use a charm to make reality cooperate with a fiction they have constructed. The universe, this story suggests, finds this equally hilarious in both cases.

Lesson 4: Second Thoughts — The Moment Emy Almost Saved Them Both

"Are you sure about this?" Emy suddenly asked Billy.

"Yeah, why the doubt?"

"A charm to make someone look tall? That's too much to be real."

"The charm is not for us, so it's possible that when the right person sees him, she'd see a tall man," Billy said.

But Emy didn't believe him. He felt a dread that they were making a mistake, but Billy's temper wouldn't let him speak his mind, or there would be a fight — one he knew he wouldn't win. And so he followed him until they came to the tree and saw the owl sitting on the middle branch. They moved quickly past it, and after a few meters they came to a house at the corner of the road.

Lesson: Emy's doubt is entirely correct. His instinct — *nothing good comes out of voodoo, we could just pay the rent* — is the voice of reason in this story, and it is completely suppressed by Billy's temper. This dynamic is worth examining seriously beneath the comedy. How many bad decisions in real life are made not because the people involved didn't have reservations, but because one person's personality dominated the group and the other person's conflict avoidance silenced the warning? Emy is not just a coward in the physical sense. He is conflict-avoidant in the most consequential sense — and that avoidance costs them five thousand dollars and their home.

Lesson 5: The Shrine — What a Witch Doctor's House Looks Like on the Inside

The house was small with two windows on either side, built with brick, and a chimney puffing out thick smoke that motivated them through the chill creeping into their bones. They reached the door and knocked.

"Enter," a gruff voice said, and they both stepped inside.

The interior was warm with simple furnishings — just a fur rug on the floor, a large side mirror, and the chimney. A man sat at the far end of the room, his back to them.

"Sit down," he said, still not looking at them.

They sat and waited as the man went about whatever he was doing. After a moment he spoke again.

"What brings you to my shrine?"

"We have a problem," Billy said.

"And what is the problem? Speak. Let the gods solve it."

"It is about our landlord," Billy said, and Emy nodded, not daring to speak. He had left everything to Billy.

"And what has your landlord done?"

"He is a greedy bastard who is also mean. He has increased the rent to five grand."

At this, the witch doctor shuddered, his shoulders visibly shaking. They both shifted a few meters back, unsure if the man was losing his mind.

"So what do you want the gods to do about the landlord?"

"We want a charm that will make us live there for free."

"Drop five grand in the calabash over there," the man said, pointing at a calabash a few meters from them.

When Billy had dropped the money inside, the man collected it, still without turning to face them. He counted the money, nodded when he confirmed it was complete, and then turned to face them.

Note for readers: The staging of this scene — the gruff voice, the back turned to the visitors, the fur rug, the chimney, the calabash — draws from a genuinely recognisable tradition of how spiritual consultation spaces are constructed across West Africa. The *babalawo* in Yoruba tradition, the *dibia* in Igbo tradition, and similar figures across the continent typically conduct consultations in dedicated spaces with specific ritual objects. The calabash in particular is a significant vessel in West African spiritual practice — used for offerings, divination, and the containment of spiritual energy. This story uses all of these elements with a straight face — and then reveals that the man inside them is the landlord. The comedy works because the setup is authentic. You have to believe the shrine before the punchline can land.

Lesson 6: Unmasked — The Most Expensive Coincidence in Nigerian Comedy History

"So, Billy and Emy — you two want to live in my house free of charge and charm me too?"

They looked at each other, then at the man. His face was painted white and red, and he wore a large hat made with bird feathers. He even wore an eye patch to look like a pirate, with a chain of skulls dangling from his neck. They couldn't recognise him, but then he began cleaning his face, removing the eye patch and the hat, and it dawned on them who he was.

"LANDLORD!" they both exclaimed in unison, unable to believe their eyes.

"So you have five grand for a charm but not for rent?"

"It's not like that, landlord. I can explain," Billy said, while Emy winced, knowing they were done for.

"Nothing to explain. You wanted to charm me."

"Calm down, landlord. It's all a mistake," Billy said.

"Sure. You can start heading home and making preparations to quit my house."

"What about the charm we paid for?" Emy asked.

"Sure, I will prepare it when I return home and give it to you — but by then I expect you'll be finding a new place to stay."

Lesson: The reveal that the witch doctor is the landlord is structurally one of the finest punchlines in TwistedStories. But it is also a lesson in the oldest principle of karma in Nigerian street wisdom: *wetin you do for others go come back to you* — what you do to others will return to you. Emy and Billy went looking for a way to use supernatural power against their landlord. They found their landlord. He now has their five thousand dollars, their dignity, and their tenancy. The universe did not even need to work hard on this one. It simply arranged for the target of the scheme to be the one running the scheme. That is not bad luck. That is perfect justice with a punchline attached.

Lesson 7: The Walk of Shame — When Shock Reorganises Your Grammar

Billy and Emy were kicked out of the witch doctor's home. Walter had promised to bring them the charm they had paid for, but reminded them that they should start looking for a new place to stay.

"Sha, that one na big problem oh," Billy said, still not believing their landlord was a witch. (Well, that is a big problem.)

"You sure say no be him dey make us broke?" Emy asked. (Are you sure he's not the one making us broke?)

"E fit be true oh," Billy said, "that man dey always pour spit for ground." (It could be true. That man always spits on the ground.)

"Aswear, na him make us broke and jobless jor,"* Emy said. *"Maybe we should report him."* *(I swear, he's the one making us broke and jobless.)

"Abeg, I no follow oh," Billy said. "Make we go wait him for house first." (Please, count me out of that. Let's go wait for him at home first.)

They went home grumbling about a wasted opportunity. They were so shocked that they never noticed they had switched to Pidgin English, even though they were both graduates who had been speaking perfectly correct English earlier. But seeing the landlord had simply reorganised their brains.

That night they slept with the knowledge that it was their last in the house, wondering how a simple plan could spiral into such a disaster.

Note for readers: The detail that both Emy and Billy — educated graduates who had been speaking standard English all night — automatically switched to Pidgin English the moment they saw the landlord is one of the most quietly brilliant observations in this story. This phenomenon is real and well-documented in sociolinguistics. Code-switching — the practice of alternating between languages or dialects depending on emotional state, social context, or stress level — is extremely common among multilingual and multi-dialectal speakers. In Nigeria, Pidgin English functions as the emotional mother tongue for millions of people who use standard English in formal or composed contexts. When Emy and Billy were trying to be professional clients of a witch doctor, they spoke standard English. When their world collapsed, they went home in Pidgin. That is not ignorance. That is authenticity.

Lesson 8: Morning Hunger — When the Last Night Becomes the Morning After

In the morning they woke up feeling hungry. Emy's stomach rumbled and the big man yawned wide.

"Abeg no swallow me oh," Billy said. "Try put your hand over your mouth." (Please don't swallow me. Try covering your mouth.)

"No be my fault, I dey hungry jor," Emy said. (It's not my fault, I'm just hungry.)

At that moment there was a knock at their door and they both stiffened. Emy nudged Billy and nodded toward the door.

"E go be landlord oh," Billy muttered. (That's probably the landlord.)

Emy stood up on shaky legs and opened the door. The landlord, Walter, was standing there grinning at them.

"Well boys, here is your charm," he said, handing a ring to Emy.

It was small, and as Emy examined it he could tell it would only fit his pinky finger. It was a simple ring made of copper wire that had been heated and hammered together.

"This ring cheap oh," Emy exclaimed. (This ring looks cheap.)

"Na the ingredients cost," Walter said with a grin. (It's the ingredients that are expensive.)

Lesson: Walter bringing the charm he promised — despite having just evicted them, despite having exposed them, despite having taken their five thousand dollars — is one of the most interesting character choices in this story. He is a man of his word, even when his word was made in the context of a scam. There is a quietly absurd integrity to this. Walter could have simply kept the money and sent them packing. Instead he showed up the next morning with a copper ring, grinning, honouring the transaction on his terms. In its own twisted way, this is the most professional thing anyone does in the entire story.

Lesson 9: The Charm — When Billy Does Exactly What Nobody Expected

Billy stood up and collected the ring from Emy's hand. He turned it over slowly, then looked up at the landlord.

"How I fit use am?" he asked. (How do I use it?)

"That is simple," Walter said. "Just lick it three times and slap it on the head of the person, and that will activate it."

"You mean like this?" Billy said — and before anyone could react, he licked the ring three times and slapped it firmly on Walter's head.

Walter froze. His body shook for a few moments and Emy glanced outside to make sure no one was watching, then quickly dragged the landlord inside.

"Billy, wetin you do na?"* *(Billy, what did you just do?)

"Just chill, make we see if e go work," Billy said calmly. (Just relax, let's see if it works.)

Lesson 10: One Problem Solved — The Most Unexpected Resolution in Dark Comedy History

After a moment Walter's shaking subsided. He turned to Billy with a blank, willing expression.

"What do you desire? What can I do for you?"

Billy looked at Emy. For a second neither of them moved, the disbelief not yet fully registering. Then it sank in, and Billy burst out laughing.

"Now that is something," he said. "What a fool."

"What is going on?" Emy asked.

"Just watch," Billy said, and turned to the landlord. "I want you to put it on record that we can live here for as long as we want without paying rent."

"Done," Walter said simply, and walked out.

Billy roared with laughter. "I thought he was joking when he said he would bring us the charm — knowing full well what we wanted to use it for."

Emy finally understood and he laughed too. "What a shame. His own charm used against him, and he made it to be genuinely effective."

"Yeah, one problem solved," Billy said with a grin. "Now let us go and find food."

And with that they walked out together, singing a song that, by all accounts, no one could confirm had ever existed before that moment.

Lesson: Walter's plan — to expose them, take their money, evict them, and then hand them a charm knowing exactly what they would try to use it for — backfired in the most spectacular fashion possible. He underestimated Billy. Walter assumed that the thin, innocent-looking one would read the instructions, go home, and try to charm him from a distance. He did not account for the possibility that Billy would lick the ring and slap it on his head before the sentence about instructions was even finished. Speed. Audacity. Zero hesitation. These are Billy's gifts. And in this one moment, they turned the entire story upside down. The lesson is ancient: never hand your enemy the weapon and explain how it works.

What This Story Teaches Us About Bad Plans, Pidgin English, and the Comedy of Human Nature

The Voodoo Rent Plan is pure dark comedy from beginning to end — but like all the best TwistedStories comedies, it carries real truths inside every joke.

Emy and Billy are not stupid people. They are graduates. They are capable of a plan — just not a good one. And the reason their bad plan fails so spectacularly is not bad luck. It is a perfectly logical chain of consequences flowing from a single terrible decision: to pay five thousand dollars to a witch doctor rather than pay five thousand dollars in rent.

Three things this story teaches us:

First — the obvious solution is almost always better than the clever one. Emy said it himself on the walk there. They had the money. The rent was the same amount. The obvious move was the right move. But the clever move — the charm, the witch doctor, the free rent forever — was more appealing because it promised to solve the problem without requiring them to simply pay what they owed. This is a pattern that appears in every area of human life where people choose the complicated route to avoid the straightforward one.

Second — know your partner's instincts before you involve them in a plan. Billy's defining characteristic is speed and audacity. He acts before he thinks. He slaps before he considers. These are qualities that make him useful in certain situations and catastrophically dangerous in others. Handing Billy the charm and explaining how it works was Walter's greatest mistake — because Billy's first instinct was always going to be to use it immediately on whoever was standing in front of him.

Third — language is not just communication. It is identity. When Emy and Billy switched to Pidgin English the moment their world collapsed, they were not reverting to ignorance. They were returning to the most honest version of themselves — the version that exists below the performance of education and composure. Nigerian Pidgin English is not a lesser form of language. It is the language of the real, spoken when the formal version no longer fits the moment.

Pidgin English Glossary — What You Learned in This Story

Here is a quick reference for the Pidgin expressions used throughout:

Sha — well / anyway

Na big problem oh — that is a serious problem

You sure say no be him dey make us broke — are you sure he is not the one making us poor

E fit be true oh — it could be true

That man dey always pour spit for ground — that man always spits on the ground

Aswear — I swear

Na him make us broke and jobless jor — he is the one making us broke and jobless

Abeg, I no follow oh — please, count me out

Make we go wait him for house first — let us go and wait for him at home first

Abeg no swallow me oh — please don't swallow me

Try put your hand over your mouth — try to cover your mouth

No be my fault, I dey hungry jor — it is not my fault, I am just hungry

E go be landlord oh — that is probably the landlord

This ring cheap oh — this ring looks cheap

Na the ingredients cost — it is the ingredients that are expensive

Billy, wetin you do na — Billy, what did you just do

Just chill, make we see if e go work — just relax, let's see if it works

Nigerian Pidgin English is spoken by nearly 100 million people. If this story gave you your first real encounter with it — welcome. There is an entire world of expression waiting in these phrases, and every story on TwistedStories that uses it is your personal classroom.

Outro: The Song Nobody Had Heard Before

Emy and Billy walked out of that building into the morning air, one problem solved, no food, no money, one free tenancy secured by a copper ring licked three times and applied to the head of their landlord at zero notice.

They were singing a song that, by all accounts, no one could confirm had ever existed before that moment.

That is exactly the right way to end this story.

Not triumphant. Not reformed. Not wiser in any conventional sense. Just two broke, hungry, audacious men who went looking for a witch doctor, found their landlord, lost five thousand dollars, got their tenancy back, and walked into the morning singing something new.

Sometimes that is what winning looks like.

Did this story make you laugh? Share it with someone who needs a comedy today. And if you want to learn more Nigerian Pidgin English, leave a comment below — more lessons are waiting.

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