Fine face, no brain

She walked into the banking hall,
her pointed shoe announcing her
arrival minutes before you saw her.
She wore that kind of dress that
convinces you that heaven is
missing an angel.
The aroma of her perfume would
easily finish a bowl of eba for its
sweetness.
And the phone which she gingerly
held to her ear, without minding the
security guy frantically waving at
her that calls are not allowed in
banking halls, will cost a small
fortune.
She stepped forward, picked a
deposit slip and searched frantically
for a pen.
About five guys offered her their
pens but, shame to bad people,
she took mine maybe because I
was closest to her.
After a while, or a long while
because time stood still, she stood
up and inched closer to me.
She whispered: "Please can you
spell 'thirty' for me?"
I looked down at her deposit slip in
surprise.
She'd written:
'tarty tausan'!
Olodumare oooo!!!!!!
I hissed and snatched my biro from
her hand
Fine face, no brains!