Captain Blue. Self-employed builder of homes for the living and tombs for the dead. Teller of stories. "Yes gyurl plenty Pomeroon people scarred uh jumbie and no banna does wan go identify dead in duh mortuary. Look wah 'appen tuh Ol' Man Nubert. He son open duh door, see'd duh dead starin' back at he, an refuse tuh go in. He tell duh mortuary officer he fadda wearin' a blue shirt and pointin' wid he finger, he say "mus' be de black man far far, over so.""
The spruced up dead body - hair brush', teeth shine' up nice nice - was taken to the Wake where mourners dutifully imbibed copious bottles of rum, ate all the local favourites, played dominos and recalled in slurs of the tongue their fondest memories of Nubert.
At the Church, on the day of the funeral, weeping well-wishers filed past the body and all would have gone well but for Nubert's five-year old grandson. "Buh wait", he shouted in surprise, "Gran'daddy din have nuh teet! An' is wha' 'appen tuh Gran'daddy hair? How it pokin' out he head, straight straight like cow grass?"
Two miles down river and around the same o'clock, Ol' Man Nubert was buried under his new, and rather grand name of Hercules Frederick Carraway.
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