Satiricus was in a good mood. Since his in-laws lived “across the river”, he was forced to schlep weekly across the decrepit “floating bridge”. This always tested his fortitude. Satiricus swore the bridge was kept going by a combination of welds and spit, since there was not an occasion he’d crossed when there weren’t always workmen blocking his path. They were always bent over, welding and spitting. But now there was going to be a new concrete bridge!
“Halleluiah!!” he exclaimed to his buddies at the Back Street Bar. “I’ll now be able to visit the old nags across the river and get back in a couple of hours!”
“Who seh dah?” demanded Bungi. “Dem guh spen’ mo’ money dan fuh buil’ de Skelden facktry and de bridge gat fuh still open fuh ship pass!”
“I’m always confused when they say the bridge ‘open’ or ‘close’,” ventured Hari. “They mean for the ships, or the vehicles?”
“They mean for ships,” said Satiricus, the newspaperman. “Which I never understand, because it’s only motorists who read the newspapers.”
“That’s why I’m always confused,” said Hari. “So the bridge ‘open’ really means the bridge ‘closed to traffic!”
“You got it!” said Satiricus, clicking his beer with Hari.
“Dah all ayuh a t’ink ‘bout?” demanded Bungi. “When ayuh guvment a waste all da money and yuh still gat fuh wait?”
“Budday!” grinned Satiricus. “It’ll be safer than those floating punts!”
“How yuh know da?” said Bungi. “Yuh hear ‘bout de Ming Swing?”
“OK…OK…” said Satiricus sheepishly. “We never denied that we accept ‘political investment’, you know!”
“Hold it!” interrupted Hari. “I know Ming was a big financier of the government, but what is this Ming Swing?”
“Yuh na hear?” smirked Bungi. “All bridge suppose fuh buil’ straight, but des waan guh swing fuh lan’ pan Ming land.”
“So how much the government has to bring for the swing?” Hari asked.
“Mo’ dan dem a spen’ pan cane-cutta,” said Bungi sourly.
