Satiricus’s eyes felt grainy as he walked over to the Back Street Bar. He and his brother-in-law had looked at the Warriors’ demolition of the Tallawahs the night before, and even though the game was over one hour earlier than scheduled, he’d gotten so pumped up he just couldn’t fall asleep almost till dayclean.
“Da bin a wan real game, eh Sato?” Bungi exclaimed before Satiricus could even sit down. There was no need to mention what game he was talking about.
“Well, I won again!” Satiricus smiled broadly, as the waitress dropped three cold ones on the table. “Beers on me!”
“So who you does bet against, Sato?” asked Hari. “I though all our friends backed the Warriors.”
“My brother-in-law,” said Satiricus as he grinned even wider. “The idiot says he was playing the law of averages.”
“And wha’ average he a play?” asked Bungi as he polished off his beer with one practised gurgle and signalled for another. He liked free beers.
“He figured after the Warriors won their last two games in Guyana,” Satiricus explained, “they couldn’t win their other two – especially against second place Tallawahs!”
“Well, I know Jamaicans boast about ‘me lickle but me talawa’,” sniggered Hari. “But last night while they were small they certainly weren’t ‘feisty’ enough!!”
“Me t’ink dat Tallawah bowla tek tuh much notes!” suggested Bungi. “An’ ‘e force abee bai Walton fuh mek ‘e own notes pan ‘e bat!”
“So how come you fellas didn’t compliment my fearless leader Rum Jhaat?” asked Satiricus as his pals settled back to savour “their” victory along with the free beer.
“Fuh wha’?” demanded Bungi; taken aback at the turn in the conversation.
“Well, the man showed he was a true Guyanese when he went to see Warriors cricket!” said Satiricus. “And pi55ed off those Toshaos!”
“Leh abee tek wan drink fuh de Jhaat!” said Bungi.
