Satiricus was grinning so widely, his pals feared he might just dislocate his jaw. His editor has wanted some human interest pieces from the protests against the parking meters in Georgetown, and Satiricus was regaling the fellas with his findings. As usual, the debriefing was being conducted at their usual spot at the back of the Back Street Bar, where in his expansive mood, Satiricus was “standing” for the beer. His report was punctuated regularly with exclamations of “HE was there too?”
“I hope you fellas will stop giving me stick, now you see City Hall backing down on the parking fees!” Satiricus finally concluded.
“Wha’ mek abee gat fug gi’e you credit fuh da?” inquired Bungi, as he signalled for another round.
“Well, you all always criticising my leaders Nagga man and Rum Jhaat,” said Satiricus with a smirk. “And look how they solved the problem!”
“Solved the problem?!” Hari almost shrieked. “What the arse did they do? They weren’t even at the protest!”
“They didn’t HAVE to be at the protest,” said Satiricus. “They already did what they had to do!”
“Look Sato! Na play abna-babna wid abee,” Bungi said firmly, even though he knew he was threatening his uninterrupted supply of free beer, “how Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat stap de protes’?”
“Same thing I said: you never give them credit,” said Satiricus. “Didn’t you read the moment KFC said they don’t support the meters, the Government and City Hall buckled.”
“What??!!” Hari, did shriek this time. “Yuh run mad, Sato,” said Bungi soberly.
“Your KFC leaders only trying to make up with their youths who voted them out,” said Hari. “You think the Pee-an-See care what they say?”
“Budday, Nagga Man and Rum Jhaat just like dat man, Kamoudi who bring in de meter,” concluded Bungi. “Nobady na respec’ dem!”
“How can you compare my leaders to that racist!?” demanded Satiricus indignantly.
“The man can’t possibly be a racist,” declared Hari. “He cuss both slaves and indentureds!”
