Sunday, October 11, 2009

14. Tings Nov 14

(7:30 am Nov 14, 2005)


Sassy. Fresh. Brisk. Wise. Impertinent. Impudent. Backtalk. Saucy.

Sass. Long sass. Short sass. No, no. This is not what we mean. For what we mean, see above.

Don't give me none a your sass chile.

Ya too sassy.

Dat gal is way too sassy.

Mocha had heard a lot of that growing up. And the frustrating thing about it was that she was nowhere near as sassy as her sister who never seemed to hear it.

As Mocha remembered it, it was her first introduction to the unfairness of life.

Someone, somewhere must have figured that she needed extra instruction in this principle as it had been pounded into her over and over since then. Not that she complained about the lessons mind you, they had stood her in good stead.

Life might not be fair, but Mocha looked around and found that at least there were a few areas where things had fallen to her liking and advantage and she determined to get all the mileage she could from those things.

True, she used to complain some as a child, whine some even. She looked back now and smiled at her innocence. She smiled too at how sassy she had been. Really, she had deserved what she had gotten, it is just that her sister had deserved more and gotten way less.

(7:44 am Nov 14, 2005)

On the whole, Mocha thought life was good. She wasn't one of the rich and famous, but she had friends that she really liked and that she always enjoyed being around. They made her happy. She had a job that wasn't high paying but that she enjoyed and where she felt she made a difference to her community and to her country really. That made her happy too. Not too shabby in her estimation for a girl that had sass problems early.

(7:48 am Nov 14, 2005)

(8:11 am Nov 14, 2005)

If sassyness and getting called on it had been one of her disadvantages, her strength had been one of her advantages. Or at lease one of her attributes that she had learned how to turn to advantage early.

As she grew, she learned how to tone down her level of sass to the point where people no longer thought her sassy. She never lost the inner sass or the quick wit that often worked hand in glove with it.

As she grew, she also never lost her strength and she grew solid to go with strong. She wasn't the kind of girl most people thought of a beautiful, but she got by. In the islands, solid helped.

She was getting ready for work now, just finishing up a bowl of cereal and milk and a banana. Last night had been fun. Melody had won the rounds of Tonk and she had been leading in Pluck right up until the end when her sister nipped her. The competitiveness in her didn't like the outcomes, especially being nipped by her sister like that, but the process and the easy camaraderie of the night had been great.

(8:23 am Nov 14, 2005)

(4:08 pm Nov 14, 2005)


Sister. Hermana. Soeur. Sorella. Schwester. Irmã.

Sister. Brother.

Sistah. Bruddah. Fahdah. Muddah.

Sistren. Bredren.

Sister, sister. Sister, mister. Mister, sister.


Missed her? Sister? Missed her, mister? Missed yer sister.


Mocha and her sister got along fine these days. It had not always been so. Now, while Mocha was solid, Essmerelda was a little slip of a girl. A little slip of a woman these days. Always had been. She was two years older than Mocha but, from the time Mocha could remember, she had always been bigger and stronger than Essie.

Essie was beautiful though. She was the one who turned all the men's heads, even the stiff necked set.

As children, they had not gotten along all that well, but these days they got along fine and enjoyed each other's company. They still generally ran in different circles though. Essie tended to run with a sophisticated set and Mocha hung more with a more outdoor, action oriented crowd.


Rocky, Cinnamon, and Bruno were just docking Cay Dreams. They had been out searching for Jelli most of the day. Bruno had woken up early and begun writing. About an hour in, he was feeling vibrations and had the feeling that what he was writing was somehow related to Jelli's circumstances. He had called the Rolles and gotten Mr. Rolle to get Cay Dreams released from police custody and talked Rocky and Cinnamon into going out cruising for contact with him. He had asked Melody to go but she wasn't able to make it.

(4:26 pm Nov 14, 2005)

(4:42 pm Nov 14, 2005)

Oops, sorry about that - looking for info on google again. That temporal black hole strikes again. Or is it more like a temporal vacuum cleaner? Whatever it is, time just seems to get sucked up by it, that is for sure.

They had ranged east from the Nassau Harbour. The problem is that Bruno picked up confusing vibrations. From Nassau, Bruno could tell he needed to head east. As they proceeded, the source of the vibrations seemed to split. One branch seemed to come from Rose Island, and another branch from still further on and south.

They had followed the Rose Island branch first, but, although they seemed strongest near a thin, rocky area of the island, they could find nothing to indicate any evidence of Jelli, other than the vibrations that is. They tramped over the area for an hour or so but came up dry.

Rocky suggested they try the other branch. Back in Cay Dreams, they took up the trail. They ended up floating over a blue hole. Bruno wasn't sure, but it seemed the vibrations were coming from below the surface.

There were two sets of skin diving gear in the boat so Bruno and Cinnamon went over and down. They were unable to find anything of interest within skin diving range and finally they got back in Cay Dreams.

Bruno tried following a line between the blue hole and where he thought the spot on Rose was. At places, the vibrations almost seemed to cancel each other out. In other places, they seemed amplified.

Back at Rose, they had one last look around before heading back for the day.

(4:56 pm Nov 14, 2005)

(7:32 pm Nov 14, 2005)



We got boat slip.

We got slip disk in old granny.

We got slip slidin.

We got pink slip.

We got lacy slip.

You already know about a slip of a girl.

We got a slip of the tongue.

We got slippin away in the night.

We got slip down and break he hip.

We got slippin grades.

We got he slip me a mickey.

We got it slip my mind.

We got a black slip with lace.

Truth is, we got even more slips but we are gonna stop there.

(7:40 pm Nov 14, 2005)

Bruno was back at his place and sitting in front of Lobo writing, speaking of which, I must warn you that it is only two days to the full moon.

Melody was on her way over to spend the evening with him. She was picking up Chinese and a bottle of cheap wine for them to share.

Bruno was trying to write a poem for one of his characters and was having a hard time of it. Again with the block. A nano block.


Mizmocha and Essie were on their way out to dinner at a new supper club that had opened up on the Cable Beach strip called Escudo Golds.

No problem, the smartest man in the world just jumped out with my knapsack. (Cue laughter.)

Bruddah Bing and Bruddah Boom (You like how I did that?) were back in the tunnels meeting with Big Sal and Uncle Albert.

"Boys, boys, you don't need to tell me how sorry you are another time. Give it up already. Don't you agree Big Sal?"

"Uncle Albert's right boys, for one thing, we've heard it enough already, for another, sorry is not gonna cut it in this situation we find ourselves in. What we need is results. You catch my drift?"

"We're so sorry Big Sal!"

"Boys! What did I just get through telling you?"

"Oh, yeah, right Sal. Sorr - Never mind. We'll get some results."

(8:22 pm Nov 14, 2005)

(8:35 pm Nov 14, 2005)

When Melody walked in with the Chinese, Bruno was asleep at his desk. She eased the door closed quietly and smiled. Bruno had bee keeping much too hectic a schedule as far as she was concerned. She shut Lobo and turned down the lights. Then she put on some soft night music and put Bruno's food in the kitchen before taking hers out on the porch to enjoy the cool night air, the fantastic moon and Red's singing.

She really hoped he would be able to catch up with his writing and win nano again this year. When Bruno had told her what he was doing, it was the first time she had heard about it. She thought she might try and write that book she had been planning for so many years. By next November, she could have all of her notes and plotting done and then she could be a prize winning author as well. How cool was that?

(8:42 pm Nov 14, 2005)


Smooth. Smooth as silk.

Sophisticated. Suave. Fluid.

That gal have a smooth walk.

Placid. Sailing on smooth waters.

Smooth sailing.

He smooth erryting out.

Das one smooth riddim now.


Cang and XXIII were back in their hammocks. They were just back from listening to their opponents for an hour or so after a day of exploring and planning.

If it wasn't so serious, they would be laughing at their problem. They had more than enough assets to mount a serious campaign against their opposition. Perhaps even too much money. Their problem, and they had grown tired of repeating it constantly to each other already, was how to get the wealth into usable form without being discovered. They had grown weary of the discussing, but had not found a solution that they were happy with.

The best idea so far had been Ezza's. He said he knew a local jeweler who he trusted. The problem he saw was that his jeweler was, as far as he knew, honest to the T. Perhaps too honest for their present needs. Ezza did feel, that if they did not come up with a better plan, that the jeweler would go along if they took him into their complete confidence and explained the situation and the stakes.

Cang and XXIII said they thought they could come up with a better plan if they had a little more time.

(8:56 pm Nov 14, 2005)

Red had his new song down pack (for you who wanted me to write pat instead, desist, Red used a local variation of the idiom) and he was singing it to his lady friend.

Now I know you quick ones who like to get ahead of your authors will be wondering what is wrong with me since a mocking bird is not yellow. Not in colour and not in courage. And colour would be the relevant dimension anyway.

Yes, verily, I know, however, this is fiction and I assert poetic license. I even assert poetic license in asserting poetic license in a novel which is not a poem and which is not to scale. Ho, ho!

Flat man and Ribbon. (Cue laughter.)


Bulla was in pain but he was feeling more alive than he had in a long, long time. He was happy. Happy to be alive. Plus, the game was on. Bulla had tried out for the ..., well, can we say that? Anyway, he had tried out for them a few years back but he had been judged too small. He had made his plays, covered better than anyone else on the field, but still been judged too small. After he got back from tryouts, he hadn't watched a game for over a year but then had gradually fallen back into the swing of things.

The first drive was just underway when Bulla got a case of the No Voltage Blues.

Orange you glad I didn't say banana? (Cue laughter.)

(9:13 pm Nov 14, 2005)

There goes her sassy sister slipping smoothly out to sea...

(9:14 pm Nov 14, 2005)

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