Back at the house Blue asked Bus’ Eye: “Y’all din miss me at duh fete?” “Nah”, Bus’ Eye says, “Is wha ‘appen?”. “Streups”, said Blue, “Y’all din miss mi? Y’all din miss mi? I closin’ mi mout’, story caarn jump out.”
Moments later he turns to me: “Gyurl, so hear wha’ ‘appen. I’z invited tuh a fete dun river, so mi polish up mi boots; shine shine til I seed mi face come up gud.” He had put on his black, wide brim hat, ironed his white suit, sprayed on some cologne and stepped out of his house; all the while “t’rowing back one, two , t’ree tupse” of Demerara rum.
Standing on the mangrove river bank he had tried to flag down a river taxi. Boatman had slowed down, come towards him; paused for about 2 seconds, seemingly about to let him on when suddenly “Vrrrooom”, he’d disappeared at full speed down river. It turns out that Blue had been swaying-swaying from the after-effects of the ‘lil tupse’ and because it was 10pm at night and dark, dark, dark, the taxi driver suddenly thought: “Wait! Is duh Blue or ah Jumbie? Ah Dead Dutch?!” Not waiting to find out, having forgotten his pointer broom, he sped off in fear of his life.
Blue was not happy. He had dress up so fine: “No Sagga Boy could’a had style like he. Streups.”
No comments:
Post a Comment