Satiricus knew he was headed for dangerous waters. But he had his answers all ready for the onslaught he knew would come down on him, once he got to the Back Street Bar. His better half, Caustic, had already given him more than his fair share that made him speed up his exit from his house and hearth. He wasn’t disappointed.
“Suh wha’ mek Rum Jhaat na just resign?” Bungi demanded even before he could get comfortable, much less begin on his beer. “’E a wan real waste!”
“What are you talking about?” said Satiricus with a straight face, hoping to buy some time.
“You didn’t read the paper today?” asked Hari, as Satiricus shook his head affirmatively.
“If Rum Jhaat in charge a de police,” Bungi wanted to know. “How come he a complain de Kranik know ‘bout all dem police big bais guh get knack aff befo’ he?”
“Well, it was a leak, you know,” said Hari in Satiricus’s defence.
“Me know a wan leak,” said Bungi heatedly. “But dem na suppose fuh gyam wan hint befo’ de res’ a de Cabinet?
“He’s a very busy man,” said Satiricus weakly.
“Suh ‘e police jab a only fuh fix-up police stay-shan?” Bungi wanted to know. “An’ wuk pan ‘e alcohol prablem?”
“But tell me something,” said Hari, still trying to rescue Satiricus. “Isn’t Nagga Man in charge of the Chronic? Couldn’t he plug the leak?”
“Budday! Da jus’ show me bin right all de time,” said Bungi, slapping the table. “Rum Jhaat and Nagga Man jus’ like C’rismuss blow-blow in dis guvment!”
“He’s right, Sato,” conceded Hari. “Especially since Feel-Licks took half his job.”
“I suspected this would happen,” said Satiricus, shaking his head. “Moon ah run till daylight ketch am.”
Bungi and Hari laughed in surprise as they clinked beer bottles.
