"Everything start wit once upon a time."
Once upon a fine saturday, a man decide fo improve de looks of he yard. (Tings bin runnin lil raggedy fo some time now, ever since he start de new job at the wharf). So he wake up befo bird wife--like it was weekday.
He eat he bake and saltfish, drink he cup o' hot, cungapump tea, and set out wit a big enamel cup o' wata in case tirst brakes he up. De plan was fo mek he yard look suh good, it boun' fo get badeye.
He haul out he tools from de shed under de house an' he proceed to move tings around. He move dis baby long mango tree from ova hey, an he plant it ova deh. He move de new mornin glory bush from near the gutter, and he bring it not too far from de walkway. On an' on like dat dis man wuk whole mornin' long. De missus call he, meh soon done, he tell she. De lil paggaly son, Boyo call he, meh soon come, he tell de boy. An' he jus' won't budge.
He keep sippin de now-lukewarm watta. Meantime, sun start fo stan up like it grow from boy to man. It din' even slow dung fo pubaty. Suddenly, de heat leggo one slap pon he back. He taut de devil own horse kick he.
Only den he start fo really hustle. He move de bran' new plantain sucker from behin' de kitchen (t'ings was way too crowded back deh anyhow). He stick it in de new hole by de papaya tree.
By now, yuh cyan imagine how good he feelin'--like he was a small god or someting. After all, he mek beauty an' order all by heself.
Anyway, he straiten up, swallow the last drops o' wata, wipe he forehead wid de back of he han', den tek he fus step to de house. Out o' noway, he hear a strange sound--like leaves rustlin' quick quick quick. Before he could even turn 'round, dis plantain sucka dish out one jumbee lash. It ketch he pun de exact same spot weh de sun slap he.
In de middle of a man-size groan, he hear a funny voice comin' from de plantain sucka. It seh, how you like it if i dig a hole an' drop you in it. Eh?
To dis day de men at de wharf want fo know if de voice was male or female, an' if he hear any mo' voices lately.
