The Jamaican Ninja Bert!!

by Richie Drenz

  “After mi nuh have nobody else fi wake. Jesus loves you.”

  “Yes Clivey, Jesus loves you too, but you nuh have no more friend at all, just mi? Mi one? A suh you lame?”

  “Who else mi fi have?” Clivey used intelligent arguments to defend why he had no other friend, “From people see mi cowboy hat wid the peacock feather inna the side and mi binoculars wrap round mi neck inna style like a tie mi a wear or mi a try heng miself, the idiot dem feel seh mi a look fi Indians. So mi avoid them.” He kept a blank face staring directly into Bert’s eye, blinked, and blinked again. Bert said nothing. Clivey added, “Boy mi woulda tek two strong pill yah now. Mi head a tear off.”

  Bert tried to offer some help and console his lonely friend,

  “Mi need fi buy you one teddy-bear.”

  Ideas were coming to Bert as to what else he could buy for him to keep his company since he was so lonely, “Or one gun, one shine Beretta.”

  Bert pulled up the stretch out tights -waist higher around his belly, it was giving him a bit of a problem, he cut himself from talking and said “Hold on deh mek mi draw up mi tights likkle more.”

  He slanted his body right and hoisted the left leg up dragging the tights waist so the leg of the tights would come up more. He made a small horse kick as he pulled it up a little harder, he did the same thing on the right leg next, like a girl trying to fit her legs in a tight jeans, then continued with his suggestions.

  “Or mi can buy you one pet. One a dem pet crab deh or sup’n. Sup’n exciting. Sup’n weh can bite or crawb up people.”

  “Mi nuh want nuh pet, from mi have you as mi bredrin mi good man.”

  “You good man? You good man? You a go tek your time wid the early morning wake up thing. Every morning you affi a wait pon mi til mi done brush mi teeth. You a come too early a morning time, Man.”

  Bert spotted his neighbour, Everton, in the ackee tree picking some ackee. Bert looked at Clivey and said,

  “Since you love wake up Bert early, mi want you come wake mi up 'bout five o’clock a morning tomorrow. You hear wha time mi seh? Five o’clock. Mi have a mission.”

  “So early?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wha a the mission?” Clivey asked.

  “Just come wake mi up five o’clock a morning, you ago see. Mi ago need a machete too.”

  “Red-clawt!!” Bert head jerked in the direction of Clivey’s mouth, “A wha type a mission this now?” Clivey asked.

  “You know seh mi have a strong feeling seh you soon backslide, mi Pentecostal Christian friend.”

  “Wha mek you seh that?”

  “You can bawl out seh red-clawt round your pastor?”

  “My pastor? My pastor? My pastor nuh normal, mi did want you meet him. Him split pon the stage when him a preach. A him signature that.”

  “Mi waan meet your pastor, him sound intercising.”

  “Interesting Bert, not intercising.”

  “You hear how mi tell you seh mi nuh like when you correct mi and you still a dweet.”

  Clivey ignored him. It was in his blood to correct people’s grammar. Clivey continued,

  “Matter of fact him ago preach a Marj church the last Sunday night inna this month. You must go, mi ago deh deh.”

  “Yea Man. Mi waan see weh suh sweet bout your pastor.”

  “You know Gaza Slim?” Clivey asked.

  “The singer? Yeah.”

  “You like har?”

  “Yeah Man.”

  “Then you’ll like mi pastor then.”

  “Wha? How you know Gaza Slim and you a Christian?”

  “A Gaza mi thing deh enuh. Hear mi ringtone.”

  Bert’s big Christian friend went on his phone and played ‘Vybz Kartel, Cock it up pon the Dumper Truck’ as his ringtone. “You know deh song yah?” Clivey asked him bopping his head to the song.

  This was the first time ever Bert was hearing it. Bert put two gun fingers in the air and said,

  “Pow! Pow! Pow! Of course mi know it. A mi favourite tune that from long time.” Bert start test him body on the rhythm and said, “Mi can dance it good because mi flexible like that.” Bert start move his hips in circles to the beat, he pointed one finger to Clivey’s phone screen and said, “Send mi deh ring tone deh now! A my song this.”

  Clivey was going send it through email or whatsapp but remembered Bert’s phone didn’t have whatsapp or internet, he was going to Bluetooth it then and said,

  “Bert is a Nokia 3310 you have. It can’t send to that.”

  Bert took out his and start pressing up all the buttons hiding the screen from Clivey so he couldn’t see what he was doing and said, “Alright mi ago use mi phone and download it then.”

  “Your phone too old time, it can’t do dem sup’n deh.”

  Bert believed that Clivey always trying to diss his phone so he said,

  “Mi just member sup’n, mi ago busy today Clivey. Gwaan back a your yard.”

  Clivey stood firm at the door jamb and push his head inside the house peeping and asked, “Busy a do what?”

  “Something.”

  “Something like what?” Clivey asked.

  “Jus sup’n you deaf.” Bert pushed his door to close it, Clivey wouldn’t move. Half of his body was inside and half was outside. Bert started squeeze him up between the door til Clivey eyes start to pulp. Bert said,

  “So you naaw move?” Bert used his two hands and began pushing the door with all his strength for Clivey to come out.

  Dying between the door and the door jamb, Clive said “So just tell mi a wha nuh, mi waan dweet to.”

  “Waan dweet to and you nuh know a wha mi ago do in yah?”

  “Mi nuh waan go back a mi yard because a mi one up deh.”

  “Deh one yah bigger than you Clivey, mi need fi go plug een the curling iron fi start.”

  Blood stop circulate in half of Clivey’s body him start drag his body outside, Bert realised he was retreating and eased up the pressure on the push, Clivey asked,

  “Curling iron? Weh you ago do wid the curling iron.”

  “Gwaan a your yard now nuh. ‘Member fi come wake up fiv . . .”

  Clivey walked away and said,

  “Yeah-yeah-yeah, five o’clock early a morning tomorrow. Mek sure you come church the last Sunday.”

  Bert went inside to search for Marj’s curling iron immediately.

  CHAPTER 15

  BERT AND THE HOT CURLING IRON

  “Marj all great truth begin sounding ridiculous until you realize what you once believed at first was so ridiculous. Be curious not judgmental.”

  Bert searched top and bottom and could not find Marj’s curling iron. But Bert wasn’t the type to give up easy, he was an Aquarius. He went on YouTube and searched for his favourite tune ‘Cock it up on the Dumper–– Truck’. He found it, downloaded it and had it blasting in the house all day. He continued to search the house for the curling iron and danced. Finally he found it hidden behind some cotton balls and pill bottles on the top shelf on the medicine cabinet. When Bert found it he said,

  “Ohh-lala. A find you, you likkle bugger. ‘Bout you a hide.” He plugged it in the living room wall socket and said. “Oh-weeee party time.”

  Six and a half hours later, Marj came in the evening and was greeted by the Vybz Kartel, he was blasting in the house, ‘Cock it up pon the Dumper Truck’. Her ears hurt. But what was more alarming to her senses was a smell. She was smelling heat, stale heat like an iron left in fire. Something was burning. She charged into her living room. Bert still had the curling iron plugged in, until it was dangerously hot and red.

  “What are you doing Bert?!”

  Bert was reclined on his back in the sofa, he offhandedly answered,

  “Clearlyyyy,” he dragged on the word ‘clearly’ for emphasis, because she must have been blind not to recognize what he was doing, “what I’m trying to do here Marj. I’m trying to master level seven of Ninja’s Thermatology, where my eyes can absorb the direct heat from
the hot curling iron. Alsooo, . . . mi can absorb the heat wid the inside a mi bottom lip. Ain’t that obvious?”

  “No, it’s not obvious. And it doesn’t make sense! It’s ridiculous!”

  Bert’s voice became the voice of Dr. Kemp.

  “Marj all great truth begin sounding ridiculous until you realize what you once believed at first was so ridiculous. Be curious not judgmental.”

  That was the sign of schizophrenia Dr. Arnold had told her about today, the multiple personality, his low concentration, his ramblings, all the signs he educated her about on Bert’s mental illness were now obvious. Now she was beginning to trust whatever he says. He knows what he’s talking about, he’s an expert. At least she had someone in her corner who could guide her on how to treat Bert for recovery. She had to keep him close.

  “Bert mi sure you don’t have to be curious about this. Please to plug out the curling iron.”

  “Stop wasting time, come put the curling iron pon mi lip. When you see mi flex mi eye like suh, mi ready.”

  He flexed his eyeballs twice to demonstrate.

  “Mi ready fi you rest it pon mi lip or put it pon mi eye now. Anyone.”

  “What?!”

  This one beat Marj. It was new to her. Then again Bert was adventurous. He was always doing new things.

  “You nuh know weh thermatology mean? The heat Marj, the heat. Mi a practice fi soak up dangerous amounts of heat.”

  “How Bert?”

  “Just watch.”

  “Noooo.” Marj snapped out the plug. “How long you plug this in now?”

  “Approximately Six and a half hours without a break. Constant charge, no intermission, bay heat.”

  “Jesus Christ Bert you want to burn down the house?”

  “Bun dung it Red-clawt yes.” Bert body all of a sudden moved to the song playing in the background, he said, “Deh song yah sweet eeh Man. A my favourite song this enuh.”

  “What , I can’t hear you?” Marj asked.

  “Mi seh, bun dung this yes!” Bert’s voice was loud and clear to her over the music, “The last time mi did want light the gas pan inna the kitchen, you hide the matches dem.” Bert body moved to the beat again, “If you want mi can try flatten this tomorrow. But fi now just carry the curling iron come.”

  “No!”

  “Marj, carry di curling iron come!”

  “No Bert.”

  “Marj don't mek mi come over deh fi it enuh.”

  “You’re going to burn up yourself.”

  “It naaw go bun mi. And mi lip naaw go get black if a dat you a fret ‘bout. Just cooperate and do the likkle sup’n fi mi Man… Do.”

  Marj stepped away.

  “Marj, mi a beg you please, rest the curling iron cross mi lip. Do Baby, do.”

  He pulled his lower lip forward and turned out the soft pink flesh inside giving it to Marj.

  “See mi lip yah, come rest the curling iron pon it fi mi… Do.”

  “No Bert, it going to scorch up your lip bad! Turn down the music, I can barely hear myself.”

  “It naaw scorch mi unless you press it dung pon mi lip. Just rub the hot part pon mi lip likkle.” Bert didn’t budge to go and turn down the Vybz Kartel. “Mi a tell you Marj, just rest it pon mi lip. Rest it right yahso.” He neatly used the tip of his index finger and touched the centre of his lip.

  Marj marched with the curling iron to the bathroom and turned on the shower on the curling iron’s steel rod. Bert shouted.

  “You always a thief out the thunder out a people fun eeh Man.”

  Marj yelled without looking back as she climbed upstairs,

  “What’s fun in burning up your bottom lip with the hot curling iron, you tell me?”

  “ Lord God Marj” Bert fanned her off without looking at her,” you too boring Man, fi a middle age wife. If you ever boring one more time, mi woulda must mad in yah.”

  “And turn down that blasted song now, you just got that one song playing over and over, it annoying.”

  “Mi naaw turn it down, a mi favourite song so mi a study the lyrics.”

  Marj didn’t answer him. Bert crossed his leg on the sofa and said,

  “ Marj you know seh a mi a nineteen years old and a mi Michael Jackson thief the moon-walk from though?”

  “Shut up Bert!”

  “No, real thing Man. A mi invent it. Watch yah. Run come watch yah.”

  Bert flicked up out the sofa to bust a moonwalk and Marj walked away up the stairs with the length of the curling iron cord bumping up the steps of the stairs as she climbed. She made sure to hide the curling iron even further away from Bert now and changed the hiding spot for all the matches.

  Bert’s mind flashed on his mission in the early morning and decided to go to bed early.

  CHAPTER 16

  YES, EARLY MORNING MISSION NOW

  “Mad weh? You a follow people?” Bert asked, “Hsst. Open the door man, before mi kick it off clean.”

  Early morning cock crowed and Bert flicked out of his bed, literally. He was flexible like that even in the early morning as soon as his eyes were open. Marj was in her deep sleep dreaming that Bert was wanted by the polices.

  It was well early about 4:30 or so. He was excited about his new mission, he couldn’t wait until his walking alarm clock come and wake him at five. By 4:32 Bert was over his neighbor, Everton’s, yard banging on the front door. Toothpaste or toothbrush had not touch Bert’s teeth.

  ‘Blam! Bloi! Blam! Blam! Blam!’

  He wasn’t stopping, ‘Blam! Bloi! Blam! Blam! Blam! It was 4:33 am, all of the community, Shadville, was asleep, silent, ‘Blam! Blam! Blam!’ the beating got faster ‘Blam-Blam- Blam-Blam-Blam!’ The door could have break anytime now from the proper beating Bert was giving it, but now the beat get to Bert and he started knocking a rhythm on the door to sing out his favourite song ‘Back it up pon the dumper truck’, ‘Blam! Blam!” ‘Turn round fi the love start up, Blam! Blam!’. Bed lines were still in Bert’s face and matter in his eye, he started dancing knocking the beat and singing at the same time. ‘How you wine suh you just can’t stuck’ ‘Blam! Blam!’ “Who can’t jump up can’t duck’ ‘Blam! Blam!’ ‘Woooiieeee!’ Bert bust a dip.

  Stopped knocking, wiped the matter out his eyes and start beat down the door again. Just a bit of extra information here, Everton had the biggest head in Shadville. Amongst all age groups, he was the winner. The loud knocking frightened poor bighead Everton out his sleep, Everton nearly caught a heart attack. He wasn’t even thinking straight, he thought that it must be an unprofessional thief trying to break and enter to thief out his fridge loaded with snapper fishes or to raid his ackee tree. Everton calmed down and stopped fretting about his ackee tree when he heard Bert’s loud mouth called out,

  “Everton! Everton! Git up!”

  Everton flew out his bed in just his underpants. His mind ran on his fishes, using his police instincts, he covered his fridge with his blue sheet, just in case it’s really a set up for a robbery. He couldn’t afford for the thieves to see his fridge full of fishes. He loved fishes, so much so that his wife was worried about how obsessed he was with his ackee tree and his fishes. He took good care of his ackee tree always, watered, ploughed around the root, de-leafed the old leaves, manured, pesticized, he did it all.

  ‘Blam! Blam! Blam!

  A strike of genius hit Everton in the head and he stopped walking and turned back to his bedroom.

  ‘Blam-Blam! Blam-Blam!’

  Everton came up with the idea that it would be better if he covered the fridge with two sheets more than one, to make his fridge harder to be seen if it was a thief. He rooted off the fitted sheet, dragged it across the tiles to the kitchen and threw it over the fridge. Yes. The fridge hide proper now. If anything the thieves will think it’s a bed.

  ‘Blam-Blam!

  Bert get impatient outside and bawled out,

  “Everton! Open the door nuh Man, mi hear you a move up and dung inna di house enuh! A must hide y
ou a hide your fridge in deh.”

  Everton hurried now to the door,

  “Mi naaw hide mi fridge. Hide mi fridge fi wha and it empty? Mi can tell when last mi get nuh fish.” He spun around, ran into the bedroom, get another sheet and threw it over the fridge to hide the strong fish’s scent.

  ‘Blam-Blam!’

  Everton yelled from inside the house,

  “Coming …Coming . . .A weh you want Bert?”

  “Mi want you come open the door, a that mi want. Mi need fi talk to YOU-WHOOO.”

  Everton slid the curtain a little bit to peep through his window in the half-dark morning to firstly see if anyone was climbing his ackee tree that was bearing fruit in abundant. Everton calmed down when he realized his ackee tree was safe in the cool dim morning air. Bert was standing alone in no shirt, just his tights and his bulky abdomen. Everton pulled the first three locks on his door then ran to peep back through his window to see if it was really Bert alone who had come these disturbingly early hours of the morning. Bert alone was standing outside, no shirt on. He was rolling a knot at the side of his tights waist.

  “Coward Everton! Weh you gone? Fly the door and let in Bert.” Bert shouted as the last ounce of his patience drained out his body.

  Everton came back to the door and pulled the other three locks.

  “Hurry up and open the door nuh Man, Captain-head. This important enuh. You a behave like man a idlers?”

  “Mi a wonder a wha could a so important mek you affi come yah so early?”

  “Stop gwaan like you a nerd and open the door nuh Man. How you see coward fi police?”

  “A you one out deh?”

  “You nuh just peep a the window and see seh a mi one? Fly the door Man.”

  “Hsst. Nuh haste mi enuh, before mi nuh bother pull it. A hope a sup’n serious like Marj over deh a dead and you need mi help or something like that enuh and a nuh your mad head a tek you!”

  Bert was out of patience.

  “Mad weh? You a follow people?” Bert asked, “Hsst. Open the door Man, before mi kick it off clean.”