She’s the storm in the calm and the calm in the storm. Life is in her right hand, but death is in her left. Sweetness is in her right buttock, but chaos is in her left. Honey is in her right breast, but poison is in her left.
She’s right-handed, until it’s broken, until the wrong words are chosen, until she’s robbed of her token. Oh, what the hell is “soft-spoken”?
“Yes, you better be joking.” That Queen is a fiery ocean. You dare not hurt her children; she keeps her cold heart frozen.
She meows and strides before she roars, like a humble bureau-cat. She marks her territory; she does it just like that. If you trample on her like the people do on mats, with the class and style of an aristo-cat, and the power and poise of a big lioness-cat, she tears you into many bloody parts, just like that.
Ládékojú is life; Ládékojú is death. Before she puts death in your mouth, she places life in your hands. She is loving, sensual, sweet, seductive and kind, but she’s not as meek as they make her seem. She’s the gentlest but the most dangerous of goddesses- the one you don’t want to mess with.
When she is badly offended or hurt, she laughs uncontrollably.
She walks by the offender and makes goo-goo eyes; she shakes her buttocks and sways her hips. She walks to the offender and lets him see her beautiful, perky breasts.
She kisses him and places her head on his chest, falls on her knees and licks her lips; she holds his penis. Then she closes her eyes and licks the tip, round, like a lollipop, and when he’s ready, she bites into the penis as if it were a hot dog, and cuts it into small parts. She gets up, laughs again, adjusts her head gear and strides away, proudly…