Sing that me bruddas and sistas.
One of the funniest incidents happened one hot summer day. I had become good friends with one of the ball players because when I first saw him, I thought he was from Africa. He had that purple-black complexion that glittered in the sun and always had a ready smile. He was about five feet ten inches tall, from Hoosier City, and was a really good person. We were sitting on a wall just up from the main street that ran through the campus. Around 4pm every day, truckloads of coal miners would drive through on their way home. My friend got off the wall he was sitting on and started doing the Pee Wee Herman dance. I did not think anything of it until I saw one of the trucks stop and back up. I turned to say something to him, but all I saw was the back of his head because he was halfway to the dorm, running like a mad man. I had never seen anyone run so fast, not even when we were running from the soldiers during the invasion or from the secret police during the riots. Let’s just say that Carl Lewis had nothing on this brother. We laughed about it later and he explained to me that for some reason, the rednecks would get really upset when a brother did that dance. That’s when I got an understanding of the impact that popular culture had on society.
The Exterminator peered into the darkness, slowly this tall lanky black man materialized into the light and stood in front of him, it was the African he had tried to kill.
“What the hell do you want?” he said, trying to stay calm, the man just stood over him not speaking,
“Well say something monkey, can’t you talk jigger boo?” He insisted, the man in the suit leaned forward,
“Do you think you should be antagonizing me?” the African asked, his think African accent echoing in the space.
“Screw you!” The Exterminator said smiling,
“Seems like you have a limited grasp of the English language, let me introduce myself, my name is Nelson and you know why you are here, now we can do this the easy way, you can tell me what I need to know, or we can do this the hard way, and believe me, I have lots of ways to make you talk,” Nelson said, his white teeth a stark contrast to his midnight dark skin. The Exterminator glared at him,
“I should have put a bullet in your head when I had the chance,” he said nonchalantly, Nelson leaned in, The Exterminator spat at him; Nelson wiped the saliva from his face,
“Nooo not you, you look like the type that love to torture people before you kill them, I knew men like you in my country, it was not the kill that drove them, it was watching someone suffer, humiliated, reduced to animals, I saw the disappointment in their eyes when their prisoner finally died, that is the only thing you understand, it is the only thing that will work on you because you are immune to physical pain, but how is your mind, how is that, I have learned that those who inflect pain on others are always fighting their own fears, what are you afraid of?” Nelson said as he leaned in. The Exterminator fought with the restraints growling and frothing at the mouth.
“You hate this don’t you, you have no control.” Nelson chuckled “Anyway, let’s get down to business, who sent you to kill me, was it the rebels, they were quite angry when I testified in the international courts and sent some of their leaders to jail, well” He asked, and waited for a response, and for a second The Exterminator looked puzzled,
“What the hell are you talking about?” he growled, Nelson shook his head,
“So I see we are going to have to do this the hard way huh?” Nelson asked, and then chuckled again, The Exterminator fought with the restraints cursing,
“Typical murderer just can’t realize when you are overpowered, so be It, I will get the truth from you, and you have no idea what you are in for.” He said, then turned and melted into the darkness. A couple of seconds passed and the florescent light went off, and The Exterminator was plunged into total darkness. He hated the dark, his father used to lock him in a dark basement as punishment. He remembered sitting there, watching the rats scurry around him, until they were brave enough to crawl up on him, He would scream for hours, banging on the basement door. For a man who had killed so many, who seemed void of fear, he was petrified of the dark; he was prettified of rats even more. He fought the restraints until he felt blood running down his wrists, he gave up and sat listening to his own breathing, a trick he had learned during those many nights locked in his parents basement.
This is a character from the carnival, traditional and always a main stay. Jab Jabs are evil spirits originated from the African roots. They always scared me when I was a kid on the island.