“I’m going to America! My internet prince, the rich man from New York is coming!” shouted Anzehma euphorically.
At this time she didn’t have the slightest idea that the man was not an Afro-American but a con artist who had never even left Cameroon once in his life and that her family would be confronted with a huge pile of debt very soon. But how could she have resisted a man like Johnny:
“Tell him that I’m Johnny Fuck Me Walker. Tell him that I have breakfast with Beyonce C. Tell him that Jay Z is praying for me. Tell him that at the funeral of Michael Jackson, I sat next to Barack Obama. Tell him that I only need to call Washington, and they pick me up with helicopters here.”