by Richie Drenz
“You want to be an auto-type then?”
“No.”
“You ever see a auto-type a wear binoculars and cowboy hat?”
Clivey was too ashamed to answer, he just nodded no. Bert continued to lash him.
“Then why you just annoy mi wid di heap a correction?”
Clivey gritted his teeth and said,
“Bert you nuh like correction!” then hissed his teeth.
“Then if as a bredrin you know mi nuh like correction, then why you keep on a do it? Nuh must provoke you a dweet fi provoke mi and a try embarrass people inna crowd.”
“Weh di crowd deh weh you a talk 'bout?”
Bert looked around, nobody was around. Bert stared at Clivey, almost burning Clivey with his eyes to how hard he was staring at him. Clivey didn’t say a word, he just stared back at Bert waiting for his reply, because he knew no one was there. Bert said, “Well dem gone now, dem mussi did late fi work.”
“Nobody never deh yah Bert.”
“You chat too much. Mi and you deh yahso a talk, weh you a bring up people inna it fa? You love mix-up and love call up Ms. Karen name?”
“Jesus Christ! How you lie suh Man?! A dat mi can’t tek bout you enuh, you hear mi call …”
“Mi seh you chat too much. Furthermore that’s beside the point, mi seh like how you know seh mi nuh like it and like Jesus, mi never wrong yet, why you keep on a insist fi correct mi?”
He waited for Clivey to give him an answer, Clivey couldn’t. He was silent.
Bert never felt sorry for him. He whipped him again with another argument,
“You nuh feel seh as a bredrin, every time you annoy Bert wid this correction thing, mi fi just use mi foot and fist you inna your mouth, every time? All three onetime back a one another before Bert foot land back a ground?”
Clivey knew Bert was quite flexible. He looked down at Bert’s “No. Don’t do mi mouth suh, don’t kick mi in deh, mi lip dem easy fi bust.”
“Mi ago wait and see if you ago correct mi again.”
CHAPTER 8
BLACK SHREK & MS. HULK HOGAN
“Whatever, hsst. A weh you coulda want go home go ketch your husband a do suh?”
Marjorie picked out some grocery at the supermarket. The first items she picked up were six boxes of milk because Bert loved milk and a made sure she got a brand new nail clip to clip Bert’s nails that she just kept forgetting to pick up every time she came. She was in a major rush to reach home. She didn’t like being away from Bert for too long knowing his condition. She searched for the shortest line and waited in queue.
It was better if she had joined the other one beside her because if she had joined it she would be cashing now, she thought. Her line was crawling slow. She looked at her watch and peeped at why the cashier was taking so long. She had never seen this Syrian cashier before, she must be new. She had slim straight face and her hair in a ponytail. She was neatly attired with her blouse tucked in her uniform skirt. Her mouth was tiny and seemed too small for her long slender face. She looked timid but serious. Marjorie grunted,
“Just my luck.” Thinking, new and slow.
She took out her cell and called Bert but his phone went straight to voicemail thrice. She wondered what the hell he was doing, only God knows. She almost reached the front and a guy holding a hand held basket with only a few stuff asked her for a skip. She explained she would love to but she was in haste just as he was. The man hissed at her and made up his face in refute.
“Just beg you a skip nuh sexy, a just dem yah mi a cash enuh. You hard eeh.”
He showed her his basket with fab, bath soap, tea bag, Guinness, matches, rum and roll-on.
“I told you I would love to but my husband is alone and he . . .he’s . . . he… well just say I’m in a haste.”
“Whatever, hsst. A weh you coulda want go home go ketch your husband a do suh.”
“My husband won’t . . .Listen I don’t need to . . .Hsst.”
She didn’t waste her breath arguing. It wasn’t worth it. She turned her back to him tipped her trolley forward with her body and began unpacking her grocery from it on to the counter top. The man snapped at her.
“Lady you hard enuh. See how you tough like hammer head.”
Marjorie tried blocking him out, unpacking her goods faster with more force as she put them down in frustration.
“You two calf dem big and tough like. Dry head gal.”
Marjorie bit her tongue.
“Not even Hulk Hogan pressure cooker woulda waan deh wid you, how you tough.”
Marjorie had it up to her neck. Replied loudly,
“Mi exercise. I’m toned. What’s your excuse fi so ugly?”
Everyone looked at him. He was indeed a ugly man. Some people began to chuckle at his ugliness and the shame that Marjorie gave him. Others burst out in a big laugh.
“Hey you know who you a feisty wid?”
Marjorie looked around
“Yes.” Marjorie replied, “The black Shrek.”
Those who were chuckling began to laugh out heartily. He was the splitting image of Shrek for real; narrow forehead, broad cheeks and tiny ears. The difference was that his eyes weren’t green. He didn’t make another comment.
Marjorie looked at her groceries in the push trolley as she wondered what to put in the trolley next, she would save the meat for last, it dawned on her that she had barely taken up anything for herself, more than half the stuff in the trolley was for Bert. She didn’t have any cash and would be paying for it using her bankcard.
She tipped at least five hundred dollars when she shopped every month so two of the baggers were eyeballing her to pack her bag. She smiled when she saw the friendly scuffle between them, both guys time-pedaling her for her to reach up to the cashier so they could be the one to pack the groceries and receive the heavy tip. The taller one, a slim Indian won the race by moving from his station, hiding in the sanitary isle peeping out every minute to see if it was Marjorie’s time to cash.
As soon as it was going to be Marjorie’s time for cashing he dashed out from the aisle. Sweet pepper nose Craig saw and left the customer bag that he had started packing and start bolting to Marjorie’s checkout counter too. They were not neck and neck but anyone could reach her first, well that was until Craig tripped and nearly popped his foot in two. He was under pain, smiling over the friendly race but wincing all the same over the pain. They did it all the time. Craig never won Indian yet. The Indian was swifter than he was. Some goods had tumbled, fell and broke of the third row shelf in the aisle when Craig fell and bounced into it. Some of the broken cleaning stuff wet the floor. Craig’s short and wicked supervisor saw everything. Craig knew she would not hesitate to deduct everything he broke from his pay.
The Indian was smiling at him on the ground grabbing onto him bottom as the pain start get serious and sweet pepper nose face start get uglier and uglier. What Craig never knew was that today was his lucky day. The mood the supervisor was in, she wouldn’t bother to deduct his pay. It was too funny. She fired him. She was in a total no nonsense mood.
Every minute he broke something and she was tired of him. Marjorie or the Indian didn’t know that was what the supervisor had in store for him. Marjorie searched her purse for her bankcard and the Indian was packing the goods swiftly into white scandal bags. The card wasn’t where Marjorie normally kept it. Strange.
Where was it? She got a little flustered searching. Oh God, no embarrassment, she thought and wondered if Bert took out her card last night to run any experiment or anything. Anything was possible with Bert. She began searching faster. Fingers shaking. She couldn’t smile back at the Indian bagger anymore. She dug through her purse sections over and over. Searching every slot but didn’t find it.
Without realizing she muttered out
“Where the hell is the . . .”
When her ears recognized her own voice, she folded her lips inward against each other and tried to act calm, not worried. Still no s
ign of her card. She pressed her lips harder together knitting her brows, then sighed. She continued looking. What had Bert done with the card?
She dialed Bert one last time hoping and praying that she’ll get through to him this time. The cashier picked up one of the can of sweet corn and scanned it and slid the other two on the counter to the cashed heap amongst the other groceries she already scanned. She had only the Listerine and bottle water to cash. The phone was on the third ring and Bert had not picked up. Marjorie’s heart rate had now rocketed and she couldn’t hide her fret anymore. Inside her belly turned and she wanted to go to the toilet. She hated embarrassment in front of people. This would kill her if she was unable to pay. Answer please, just answer, Marjorie was chanting in her head, with the cell phone by her ears.
The Indian bagger had already packed up all of Bert’s milk in a white scandal bag that he doubled with another white scandal inside and was fitting the three cans of sweet corn inside the same bag. Bert’s nail clip was in the bag with the bottle of Cod Liver Oil. The call went unanswered. The cashier already scanned the bottle water and Listerine and stretched out her hand and said while staring at the figure on the computer.
“That’s thirty two thousand, four hundred and twenty-five.”
“Wait. One sec. I can’t seem to find my card.”
The cashier stared at her purse then looked over to the hard supervisor who had just fired pepper nose Craig. The supervisor watched as she saw the new cashier’s line unmoving and Marj sweating, stumbling through her purse. The Shrek behind Marj shouted,
“You tek up half a the supermarket and can’t pay fi it.” The supervisor flew up from her seat.
“Come outta the flipping line Man and stop hold up people time.” Shrek said.
Everyone stared at Marjorie. She felt so embarrassed that it felt like she had no knees. She could barely stand and inside her felt as if it was trembling. The short stocky supervisor with short hands walked briskly over to the customer who couldn’t pay, Marj. She stood at the end of the cashier counter beside the Indian bagger and asked,
“Is there a problem ma’am?”
“Ahhh…”
Marj looked up from her purse, she recognized it was a supervisor from her jacket and she knew the supervisor wasn’t there to help her search her purse. She was there to get rid of her from jamming up the line from the bitter and impatient look on her round brown face. Anxiety caused Marjorie to fluster and stutter.
“Aahhh, well it seems like . . .” She wiped the tip of her nose. “can’t find . . . ahh . . .”
Before Marjorie could explain in full. Shrek behind her said,
“Come outta the line if you can’t pay nuh Ms. Hulk Hogan.” Then laughed.
Marjorie was too embarrassed to look around at him. She felt as if she was having a body come down right there. Almost all the cashiers stopped cashing now and were craning their necks to stare at who it was. Most of them recognized her. They began sussing to each other. Marjorie heard the loud murmur of the sussing and she imagined the derogatory things they must be saying about her. She wanted to melt, wanted to die.
She prayed the card was somewhere in the purse. She continued to search. She tried to explain to the supervisor but she kept on losing her voice every time she cleared her throat and began speaking, somehow she kept losing her voice. It came out cracking up, dipping and just cutting off because her heart was beating at her throat and sounded so deafening in her own ears.
“Ahem . . . Mhm . . . I . . . Ahem—ahem, I . . . I . . . shop here all the time . . . and . . .”
The supervisor shut her teeth tight together before speaking, then squinted her eyes harshly as she asked without a care for how often Marjorie shopped there.
“Can you pay now ma’am?”
CHAPTER 9
YES, GOOD QUESTION, CAN YOU PAY NOW?
“Two million, seven hundred thousand dollars.”
"Hey tough gal, see how you did full a mouth, you can’t talk now?"
"Jus . . . Just . . . Just gimmi a sec . . . I know I have . . ."
She dug and dug and dug. Nothing. Her heart fluttered in her chest. What the hell did Bert do with her card. It must have been him. With shaking hands she dug through again. Found it. It was forced all the way down in the wrong slot, That meant for sure Bert had troubled the card. But for what? Not worrying about that right now Marj gasped with relief and gave out,
"Ahh . . . Here it is. Found it!"
She touched her forehead and closed her eyes with a faint smile on her face.
"Thank God! I knew I had it."
Why Bert had pushed it down so far in the slot though? Shrek behind her grunted,
"Hmmph. Hsst." And crumpled his brows at her.
He wasn’t happy that she found the card. He wished bad for her. He wished she wouldn’t find the card so she could be embarrassed in front everyone at the supermarket because she didn’t give him a skip. It almost burned him that she found it. Marj on the other hand, she wasn't so embarrassed anymore. She had redeemed her pride. The supervisor smiled and nodded and padded back to her station.
Her whatsapp alert went off. She checked it, strangely it was from Dr. Arnold. She quickly read it,
‘You should throw in the towel on Bert, give up, he’s not coming back. Save yourself the pain, the hurt and the loss. He’ll drive you over the cliff. He’s going to wreck your life. You are a lovely lady and deserve much more. Plus that fat loser needs to join the gym. He’s gonna destroy your life, I’m telling you. I’m saying this for your own good.’
Marj took a deep sigh. Look at what Bert almost put her through. She was thinking way out of the box, but what if one day Bert made her lose all her money? She felt a crack running through her heart. She sulked. What if Dr. Arnold was right and Bert will never come back to his senses? She would be putting up with all this stress and headache from Bert in vain. She should institutionalize him and move on like her mother and her sister had said. Her two thumbs danced swiftly on her touch screen as she replied to the message.
‘I vowed for better or for worse.’
‘Don’t be a fool Marj, leave now while you can save bits of your life. I’m a psychiatrist, I’m telling you the chances of Bert ever recovering is 1.3 percent out of a hundred. He’ll never make it. Save yourself.’
The cashier lifted the swipe machine and placed it on the counter punching in her user code. Marj breathed out loud and the cashier looked up at her, Marj replied to the whatsapp message again,
‘I vowed for better or for worse.’
As the cashier swiped the card, Marjorie wondered again, what in the world Bert had used her card to do or to purchase. The Indian was ready to take her goods out to the car. She punched in her pin number to pay, took out her car keys and waited for her receipt, she began fishing in her handbag for a pen but realized the cashier had one tied to a string and had laid on her counter for the customers. She didn’t bother to fetch her own pen. She zipped back her bag closed and waited to sign the receipt. The cashier looked at the supervisor. The supervisor was on the phone while eyeing another line. Marj began shifting her feet antsily when the payment took forever to process. What was the problem? She froze her gaze on the machine waiting to see the outcome. For some reason it felt like waiting on the results of an Aids test. Her heart pumped faster the longer she waited. She opened her handbag and went in it for no reason at all, than to not look at anyone.
Marj’s card was giving problems. The payment didn’t go through. Feeling sorry for Marj, the cashier did not look at her and in an almost embarrassed tone, as if it was because of her the card payment didn’t go through, the cashier reluctantly said,
“I'm sorry. But this card isn’t going through. Do you want to try a next card?”
Marj’s heart filled itself with too much blood and it felt like her heart was being choked. She wanted to examine the machine, she wanted to explain, she wanted to collapse. She tried to stop the words from shaking as they came ou
t her mouth. She looked at her other card, her credit card, and let it stay in her purse and said,
“That's the only card I have. Try it again. It has money on it, I'm sure.”
She would not use the credit card unless it was an emergency, that was the only use for her credit card, emergency situations. As an accountant she grew to hate debts, especially credit card debts. She dragged her memory. The last cheque she lodged in her account brought their balance to two million seven hundred thousand. No way the card can have less than thirty two thousand to pay for the groceries. Knowing this fact, Marj’s heart eased. She regained some confidence. The cashier tried again. Declined.
“It's not going through.”
Marj’s heart kicked hard. Her pulse fluttered as she spoke.
“Try . . . Try again please.”
Tried again. Declined. Embarrassment. Tears were clouding Marj’s eyes.
“Just try one last time please.”
She begged. Two million, seven hundred thousand? The new cashier who wasn’t that fast at cashing, didn’t want to seem to be too slow. She felt horrible for Marj but she needed the job. She was a single parent with two kids at home, a three year old boy and a eleven months old girl. Having the long line to deal with, and frustrated of trying, the cashier looked over at the hard-hearted supervisor. The supervisor was looking the other direction. The cashier shouted to get her attention.
“Sup!”
The supervisor looked over and the cashier said,
“Cancel please!”
The instance the supervisor spotted it was Marj she was bringle. It was the same lady that hold up the line forever that now wanted a cancel. The supervisor was storming over. The Indian bagger could feel the embarrassment for Marj. He avoided looking at her. He was so uncomfortable he didn't know how to act. All he did was fidget with the bags of groceries squeezing the air out the tied scandal bags.
“A wha do deh crosses bruck pocket lady yah Man!”
Shrek broadcasted so everyone could hear him publicizing Marj’s humiliating plight.
“Go puddung back the people dem things if you can’t pay fi it and come out a di damn line. People have things fi do.”