Thursday, 1 August 2013



All characters and events depicted herein are obviously fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
My obeah is stronger than your obeah
The wolves howled in the windless afternoon. Skinny laughed out loud like a crazy person. They thought they could scare him. They didn’t understand how little he had to lose and how much everyone stood to gain. They thought he was like everyone else. Scared. Coward. Indignified by poverty and near slavery. Protecting their little mortgages and car loans and jobs that diverted them from any great and true destiny. Fuck them. He had clothes to wash and a landlady to avoid until Dodz came in with the money for the rent, next week.
“Thank God for Dodz,” he said aloud. “Otherwise, I’d be sleeping under the CDC for months. Wifi there sucks.

“And also the bad boys, Jah. Bless them and keep them and thank you for guiding their hearts,” he added to the prayer. “Give them lots and lots of good fucking ganja to make up for the losses they will incur for not whacking my stupid, crazy ass.”

The cops were a different story. The wolves. The leaked cables were right. The wolves were collaborating with the Creature. At least that’s what Cocaine Chris told him. The bad boys, apparently, were reluctant to waste bullets on Skinny. Conscience. You’ll be surprised where it thrives, sometimes. But the economy was bad, so you never know when one man’s hunger became another man’s murder.

He walked into the church where the old celibates and ancient virgins were already praying for him.

“You’re not the only one who works in supernatural forces,” Skinny smirked to himself. “And my old ladies are stronger than your old ladies. Their prayers are like precision guided missiles, where yours are just shields for protection.”

In the church, he looked over the notes and papers again. No matter how many times he read it, he was surprised at the depth of corruption and the audacity of the dopers. They had duped the island, doped the island and bought the island. But money was tight these days. The noose was tightening.

That $5 million in Cayman was frozen. Accounts, property, real estate, everything was on ice. Even the National Bank of Commerce and Second Caribbean Bank were co-operating. Creature couldn’t even write a cheque these days. Other money that was not frozen was just radioactive. That must have sent Creature’s Big Sister Lila D Elle Face through the roof. Creature himself was a bit of a shinya. He criedd about it when he was alone. True fact. Creature cried a lot when he was alone. And when he did, only Sis could console him. Or slap him out of it. She was the real killer. She did all the transactions. Even the letter served on Skinny came from her.

NEXT: State of Drugs and Trust

1 comment:

  1. How can one little story cause so much ruckus?