Elections Jumbie

Satiricus slowly sauntered into the Back Street Bar. The usual steady drone of voices, occasionally punctuated by raucous laughter, was much more animated than normal. After the doldrums of Diwali, Prezzie’s audacious appointment had loosened up tongues even more effectively than the regular flow of spirituous substances.
“Suh, Sato me fr’en, tell abee wha guh laang, na?” said Bungi as Satiricus started on his first beer.
“Don’t you fellas read the papers?” Satiricus replied a bit gruffly.
“But we want the inside scoop, man,” said Hari. “From your newspaper sources and your fearless leaders Rum Jhaat and Nagga Man.”
“Don’t tell me about Rum Jhaat and Nagga Man,” said Satiricus gruffly. “Those are two real scamps.”
“Hol’ it, Sato,” blurted out Cappo finally, as the table fell silent. “Da you a talk? Nah…jumbie mus’ee hol’ yuh or somet’ing!!”
“I can’t believe the two of them would go along with Prezzie’s nonsense,” he complained with a faint whine.
“Budday!” exclaimed Bungi. “Me an Cappo bin tell yuh, w’en man done suck cane ‘e does dash peelin’ pan ground!”
“Nagga Man an’ Rum Jhaat always bin a cane peelin’,” said Cappo. “Dem cyaan do nuttin now?”
“But what they’re doing doesn’t make sense,” Satiricus continued. “Do they think we’re fools?”
“Yuh na wan fool, Sato,” said Cappo. “Yuh jus’ fall fuh dem sweet talk!”
“So why you fellas didn’t fall for the sweet talk?” Satiricus wanted to know. “Tell me.”
“For me,” started out Hari. “Was when Prezzie broke the Cummingsburg Accord, gave Nagga Man larwah and he didn’t do anything!”
“Nagga Man shou’da know: “Fish and cast-net nah friend,” said Cappo firmly. “Me nevah believe de Pee an’ See wou’da change dem stripe. Dem neva trus’ PeePeePee people.”
“Fuh me,” said Bungi, “Me nevah trus’ wan man who na look in me eye w’en ‘e a talk to me!!”
Their laughter broke Satiricus’ tension and they all clinked beer bottles.