Satiricus was ecstatic. And why not? After months of taking a pounding from his buddies — good natured or otherwise — it was his turn to crow! His leader Rum Jhaat had deftly turned the tables on all those who’d thought the criticisms from within the KFC party meant he was in trouble.
“The essence of democracy is to allow free debate among the rank and file!” Satiricus suddenly announced to his buddies, who’d been focusing on the cricket on the big screen at the Back Street Bar.
“Wha’ yuh a talk ‘bout?” asked Cappo, as he finished his beer.
“Didn’t you fellas listen to Rum Jhaat?” Satiricus asked impatiently. “He was explaining the e-mails between those leaders in our KFC party.”
“I thought it exposed what a set of dictators Rum Jhaat and Trot Man turned out to be!” said Hari with a snicker.
“That’s the problem with you fellas,” complained Satiricus, “You all only looking at the substance of what was said; you got to look at the form.”
“Me na know wha’de rass yuh a guh-aan wid,” said Bungi. “Me t’ink yuh shoulda shame fuh bring up da e-mail business.”
“Budday, don’t we quarrel and use harsh words with each other?” asked Satiricus. “But we remain friends. That’s democracy….and THAT’s the KFC!!”
“Suh lemme aks you,” said Cappo. “When Rum Jhaat lie dat he na advise Prezzie, da Demacracy?”
“You see?” asked Satiricus. “You talking about the substance again. But even there, Rum Jhaat didn’t advise. Was a gyaaf over coffee.”
“An’ when Rum Jhaat na consult nobady in KFC when he seh KFC agree wid Prezzie, da democracy?” demanded Bungi heatedly.
“But the man said he was sorry,” Satiricus said. “What more you want with him?”
“Me want Rum Jhaat fuh grow some balls,” said Cappo. “An’ na jus’ worry ‘bout when rum shap fuh close!”
“Haul yuh ass!” said Satiricus with a broad smile.
