Satiricus was ecstatic as he hurried over to the Back Street Bar. This was a special time of the year – IT WAS WARRIORS’ TIME!! The fellas’ favourite team – bar none – would be arriving this week for four games, and today was the planning session for the four days they’d be going to the ball game. This was like a campaign, like in that movie on the Dunkirk landing that ended WWII!!
“Well chaps, ‘e all come dong pan abee, yuh know,” said Bungi. “Dem bais play all dem game outside, and yuh see how dem lose all t’ree?”
“Yep!” agreed Satiricus fervently. “But weren’t most of those fans in Florida from Guyana?”
“Not because they were wearing Warriors T-shirts mean they were REAL Guyanese,” said Hari darkly. “They’ve been living outside too long.”
“Yes!” said Bungi. “An’ dem na gat nobaddy fuh play obeah pan de adda team.”
“Well, that’s why we’re taking you to all four games in Guyana Bungi, ole buddy!” said Satiricus enthusiastically as he ordered another round of beer. “You have to wuk pon dem right here in Guyana!”
“Yeah,” agreed Hari. “It’s clear those islanders were able to play their obeah on our boys with nobody to counter them.”
“Me guh gat fuh get me real strang stuff,” said Bungi as he looked to Satiricus. “Put dong t’ree baatle high wine.”
“OK,” said Satiricus. “What else?”
“An bunjal two fowl cack fuh me eat,” continued Bungi, this time to Hari. “But save de four foot fuh me wuk de obeah a’ de groun’.”
“OK,” said Hari. “My wife wondered why you need so much chicken to eat.”
“Budday, tell yuh wife fuh na ques-chan wan obeah man,” answered Bungi. “She duz aks she dacta wha’ mek ‘e does put mass pan ‘e face when he aparate pan she?”
