The Heart of Revenge (17 page)

“Fuck, that felt like twelve cums in
one.”

A high-pitched voice yelled,

“Who that?” I wasn’t sure if the voice was a
man or a woman. Sound more feminine to me than a man though. Must
be one of her girlfriends that works around the front of the
wholesale. I dashed behind the carton . She yelled back.

“Is me.”

“Me who?”

The figure swayed closer. It was a straight
shaping girl in skin tight jeans with her hair canerow to the
back.

"Is Portia, Marlon, you a informer or
something? Mi soon come ’round. Mi head a hurt mi man and mi a take
a little rest. Mi soon come ’round. You hear?”

“Mr. Yee looking for you from ’bout three
thirty till now.”

Kiss mi rawtid! I had to look closer. You
know is really a man though. Jah know star, the high-pitch and slur
in his voice could’ve pass for a girl still.

“Tell him mi did in the bathroom. Go on. Mi
coming now.”

“Alright ... Is you alone round here Portia?
Mi never hear a whole heap a noise like you a fuck again round
here?”

"You can't stop watch under mi now? Stop
watch mi man.”

"Is what do pop-down you? Eeh? No bother come
try take mi on yaah, mi not able for you mi dear. Mi ask if you a
fuck ’round here again? Talk, talk. Talk up the things them.”

“How you chat so much?” She looked at my
expression, my expression was stoic. She got more angry at what he
just disclosed, she curses “Mi wonder is what you have underneath
you? ... Hsst ... You must a pussy-watchman to rawtid.”

"Mi watching your sour rae-rae front? Hsst.”
He braced his chest forward and rocked his head while tracing her.
His facial expression over-gesticulated and his mouth formed into
many different shapes as he articulately pronounced his words like
Shebada would when acting in a play on stage. “Everybody know your
clitoris already Portia, don’t make mi talk up the things them and
do you up bad in here, ooh. ’Cause we all know your first name is
Portia and your lastname is Too-Fucky-Fucky. Go on and leave mi
yaah.”

Is what this man? It look like Portia running
her thing red a daytime round here, round the back. Jah know star!
Never again, I swear. Marlon dismissed Portia by simply fanning her
off with his right hand and as he disappeared from the dark
warehouse in the direction he came from he pulled on the end of one
of his canerow that hung at the side of his neck. Portia said,

“Come. Give mi a quickie before mi go
’round.” Mercy man, Portia could get the lead role in the movie,
‘Lord of the Fuck’. How she one love it so?

“You want see that mi don’t too feel the
vibes again enuh Portia.” I began buckling my belt. Portia stared
at my hand buckling, she looked somewhat lost.

"Why?”

“Nothing.”

“Is Marlon don’t? Him can act like a gal you
see.”

"Not really enuh. This thing has a perplexity
to it and it don’t look nice. I don't want get in any predicament,
better we just call it quits.”

“You going to talk to Finaral ’bout the thing
for me? ... You must can do that like how mi giving you mi
pussy.”

“Relax P, meditate. Is not like we fucked,
just oral reciprocation. I kissed your pussy and you kissed my
cock, that’s it, feel mi?”

"Is still fuck that.”

"That's foreplay, not sexual intercourse, mi
never penetrated you. If mi did penetrate you, you would be on the
floor, spread out and in pain.”

“Well mi still give you mi pussy.”

"Mi give your pussy a favour.”

“So what you saying?”

“Mi can’t do it P. Pinky is mi friend too, mi
can’t do her that.”

“You put Pinky over me then?” Everything
Portia lead to a diatribe on Pinky. She has such a vendetta against
the girl and she can’t walk in Pinky’s shoe.

“Definitely ... Is a real girl that. Mi
chargie that. You feel mi?”

"She giving you her renking front?” This gal
bright and feisty, I thought. A couple seconds passed and mi don’t
answer her, she feel as if she can style mi friend under guise, she
better dig out her two eyes and use them watch her mouth.
Impatient, she kept hammering for an answer,

“Answer mi nuh, she giving you nothing?”

"No. And don’t pass you place with Pinky if
you know what good for you. ’Bout the gal front smell renk, fucking
bright you bright.” I let go my belt, hands formed fists. “And
don't even try come with no choose side thing, ’bout choose between
you and she, like you think mi is one of you big crotches friend
that sit down at street side and chat and lambast and malice
people.”

“So you really not doing it then?” She
insisted on asking again. I released my fist, cooled off my
irritation, finished buckling my belt.

“Hear what, better you cease with your
persistent inquiry because mi not doing it. You feel mi?”

“Alright. Bet mi catch you and your stinking
crotches gal?”

My anger flamed. I shot her a loud as church
bell box. ‘BOW!’ A proper loud up earzass.

The skin of her face twist and her head
almost spun right around.

"Don't diss Pinky! You a idiot?”

Her hand flew to her jaw, eyes red with
shock, no tears in her eyes, she shouted,

“Bloodclawt Vybz, you really box mi for big
hole Pinky?”

Anger blazed higher. I shot her an even
louder box that echoed loudly in the warehouse. Still no water in
her eyes, she screamed at mi,

" How you so hurt? Eeh?”

"Mi tell you don’t pass your place enuh
gal.”

“ Little liar! You fucking Pinky! Don't?”

by: Pinky

Everybody in the church hung their mouth wide
almost touching the floor. They screamed, faces dismantled, nobody
moved. Everybody froze; their eyes big and open, two pools of
alertness. They were petrified to see what will happen next. Some
covered their eyes.

When mi look at it, it look like it’s just
the people that Qwan bring that covering up their eyes, or were
looking away in disgust, like they were all virgins to these
things, first time they witnessing these hooligan-ish behaviour up
close and personal, but my friends different. All of them shuffled
up to the front and at the edge of the aisle, closer to the action,
don't want miss a thing. If a pin drop they wanted to see. Munchy
was the closest, almost in the middle, despite the deathly danger
approaching she wanted to be the referee, right in the middle.

Mi did hear the footsteps bolting behind me,
but mi never expect this, mi never prepare for this calamity. He
wasn’t slowing down, he came closer and closer and the crowd got
even more frightened crying out,

“Jesus Christ! No! She dead!”

“Murder! Murder!”

Mi want run but mi can’t move. My belly
moved, griped, a fart slipped out, loud. His tie was blowing over
his shoulder and in less than a second, the coward Nathan reached
mi with a broad sharp machete in his hand above his head. A next
fart went off. Bad gas. From mi look into Nathan’s eyes mi know
something wrong with the man, Leelia would describe Nathan’s eyes
as inoculated with manic dement. I say they looked like a mad man
on the loose.

Mi foot couldn’t even budge, right or left,
none of them could move the way I was frightened stiff. My eyes
went wider as he swung the machete down to chop me. I wanted to run
like a thieving rat for my life, but somehow, I just couldn’t move.
My feet ceased up and were glued down to the tile. So too was the
rest of my body perfectly unmoving. I saw Mr. Death grinning at the
tip of the machete and my heart galloped straight through my nose,
but my feet still wouldn’t gallop, it would not move an inch.
Doomed.

The machete swinging to my face. Helpless. My
hands empty, no flowers pot, the blade looked sharp enough to slice
hair. I do the only thing I could do. Fart. Mi Shut my eyes and
wait on the chop as the blade is about to chop my face. Then I
heard a,

‘DOOP! DOOP!’

Ms. Merl collapsed and hit the benches at
both sides of her before hitting the floor. My heart start shit up
itself when I opened my eyes and saw the machete was almost into my
flesh. Memories of my sons flashed infront my eyes as the blade was
getting bigger and bigger in my eyes. Who would take care of my
sons? I wanted to piss in the church when I felt the chop, before
it even reach mi, landing right into the center of my forehead. A
fart broke loose. The ice cream working mi belly mercilessly. I
heard a deafening outburst,

“Call the police! Murder Oooo! MURDAHH!”

This was it. I shut my eyes tight and I heard
some noise but I didn’t feel the chop. It sounded like a collision
of some sort. A crash. Pieces of something falling to the tile.
Then came another loud,

‘DOOP!’ and from that solid sound, it hit
into the floor real hard.

Mi hear the machete dropped from Nathan’s
hand. Its metal blade clinking and skittering on the tile ‘Cling.
Cling. Cling’ as it tumbled. What happened? Then another sound,
loud, bashing,

“SPLA-SHY!” It sounded brutal. I opened my
eyes. Some old women were fanning Ms. Merl with the wedding
program, desperately trying to revive her. The holy spirit touched
a granny that was over Ms. Merl and she jumped and twirled and
bounced up into the other elders standing close by her, causing one
hell of a commotion. She was shouting some ancient language or one
she just made up, and kept getting louder and louder

“Alla-ma-shalla. Alla -mama-sha.
ALLA-MA-SHA!”

I felt a sharp stinging pain in my leg. My
skin was open, my flesh too. Where was the chop I was suppose to
get? Why didn’t I get the chop? The falling machete blade had
caught my leg and cut it open. The slice looked deep, wide and
exposed my flesh as it bled.

Vance had totally shelled out the flowers pot
in Nathan’s face. Nathan fell to the floor and Munchy had given him
another flowers pot right after. Nathan was flat on the floor in
front of me. I felt my blood flowing faster down my leg, it was a
warm trickling feeling. The cut was right in my tattoo on my leg,
where I already had a horrible scar and fucked up my tattoo on my
leg. Water wouldn’t come to my eyes, only a raging fire that only
Capleton, the fireman, could understand. Nathan almost chopped off
my head clean. The cut was stinging with a burning sensation, but
my anger was burning much more. Mi head get hot. Hothead. Head
ablaze.

Mi grab up the machete off the floor, looked
at Nathan’s neck, head, neck, aimed and swung the machete above my
head. Swung it back down at his head, with every might in mi body,
shutting my eyes tight for the blood spill.

You can hear the angry winds outside, a
turmoil, hear the tense vibration in the air. The windows slammed
with the sound of a judgement day drum, echoing through the church.
The wooden cross on the wall swung, slanting out of place. It was
almost upside down on the wall. Mi feel one hundred hands holding
back my arm. The machete would not swing down. Looked who they
were. In my rage of a temper I thought what’s wrong with these
idiots? I saw who it was. It was Daddy and Vance both holding on to
my arm. Munchy snapped a picture of the three of us.

Mi wrestle in their hands, fighting to free
up myself, so I could chop Nathan in him short rass. I was wild,
wheeling the machete aimlessly between Vance and Dad knowing very
well the sharp machete could swing and accidentally chop anyone of
them, anywhere but more than likely in their face, since the
machete was being wrestled at face level. The wild tussle between
the three of us fiascoed all over the church, the blade dangerously
swinging all over as I wildly buffaloed to get the machete for
myself. I knew one of us would get a decent chop from the machete
and I was certain it wasn’t me, the best thing for them to do, was
let go the machete and leave me with it. They wouldn’t let me go
instead they wrestled harder and wilder, I wrestled back wilder and
harder and determined. The wheeling machete brushed the pastor
glasses off his face. He sprang backward and chanted with fright
but with greater anger,

“The dev—-vil is in this child. The dev-vil!”
Everybody heard him already and he still went on to holding up his
Bible high in the air maybe to get everyone’s attention and hear
him chanting again, like the people were deaf,

“The DEV-VILLL!! ... I say the DEV. VILLL, is
in this CHILDDD!”

Mi step on his glasses. Crush it out. Good.
Like crushing out weed and grabba.

Vance’s grip loosened. Both his hands freed
up from around mi. I wrestled with Dad as Nathan tried to get back
to his feet. I kicked him back down. Stomped in his face. Wrung my
heel in his jaw pretending I was still crushing the pastor’s
glasses, crushing his face.

He whacked my foot off his face. I lost my
balance, farted, fumbled to stand straight and Daddy held me firm.
The fart smell bad this time. I heard something fall to the ground.
Or maybe it was someone as the ‘DOOP!’ sound was loud. I walloped
another loud kick in Nathan’s soft throat, ‘WHOOP!’. He grabbed
around his neck with both hands. I snatched another flowers pot
with my free hand that Vance had let go, bashed his head good with
it. It made a loud thwack sound. He wasn’t moving anymore. I looked
around to see what or who had made the loud dooping sound
before.

I saw who it was. I tried to control my
fart-ish feelings. I got stiff with shock. No. No. No. It was my
brother on the floor, both hands squeezing his chest trying to grab
hold of his heart. His knees curled up to his chest as if he were
trying his hardest to curl small enough to fit into an oyster’s
shell, or trying to fit back into his mother’s womb, a fetal
position. He kicked with small surges of epileptic-like shocks,
eyes looking beyond the ceiling. I remembered Dr. Reid saying that
the next heart attack he got he would die. Vance lips trembled out
his last dying words,