‘The Dragon Cyah Prance’

For only the second time, a newspaper will serialise a book written by a local author. It will be done in two parts. So without further delay, we present to our readers, the extremely brief novel: ‘The Dragon Cyah Prance.’

CHAPTER FIRST

ONCE upon a time in the Kingdom of Trinitaria, there lived a dragon named Pattricke. Now although of a fierce countenance, dragon Pattricke viewed himself as a pious one, anointed by Yahweh and designated by the Almighty as the Father and Patron Saint of this fair land. Of course dragon Pattricke, with blessings from above and a celestial light shining down on him, would have no one challenge his authority in any way. Indeed, even the local holy man Archbishop Edgar Wilbert-Ramdeen was forced to humbly apologise and bow low in supplication when one of his disciples dared to speak out on the sad state of Trinitaria.

This happened after a bacchanal in which Pattricke dared to take on his Chief of National Justice, Sattia Sherma — himself an Anointed One.
One day, while Pattricke was pacing back and froth in a garden at the back of Whitecave — where his office is located — he spotted his beloved WEPEP sons clearing away weeds and bushes from a nearby piece of land and then painting the bare earth with white paint. Pattricke decided to give the WEPEP sons of the Father a little pep talk and walked towards them. As he approached, the halo around Pattricke’s head alerted the sons who immediately bowed low and chanted reverently, “All Hail The Chief!” “Good work boys, nice paint job. Remember to use the primer on the earth first before putting the second coat. That way the brown of mother earth will be hidden properly. Doh fuhget to paint the stones and tree trunks as well. This will be part of our journey to Vision 2020,” dragon Pattricke ordered.

“Aye Master!” was the reply from the WEPEP workers. As he walked back towards Whitecave, Pattricke thought long and hard on how to alleviate the crime issue, which had cast its grim, dark pallor over society and was the bane of his current incarnation as Lord High Priest of the political landscape. It seemed no matter how hard his minion Martin P Joecliff tried, the damn Trinis could not stop shooting, robbing, raping or kidnapping each other. Minion Joecliff, he being of the equus asinus species (in Trini parlance the damn jackass), had tried everything short of obeah to control the crime splurge and make dragon Pattricke look good. But he had failed.

And as Pattricke sat in Whitecave and pondered on crime, an idea hit him in his head. Waddap. “I know what I will do, I go hold a big fete. Call it the People’s Next Macarena fete and we go have a ball and people go forget to commit crime. Yes that is what I will do,” dragon Pattricke thought darkly. So said. So done. The fete was a great success except for one thing — there was so much pickpocketing, stabbings, fights, cussing and general lawlessness, that the police had to move in swiftly and mash up the fete, thereby the purpose of the grand fete was defeated. However, in the eyes of dragon Pattricke — He Who Was Anointed By Yahweh — the fete was a “smashing success” and he planned to take to the Royal Round Table (otherwise known as Cabinet) a proposal that the fete should be held every week.

And while he danced, pranced and wined merrily, dragon Pattricke slipped on a teacup that a Rottweiler had carelessly pelted and fell off the stage where Pattricke’s appointed minions had gathered to watch the mad masses below. Letting out a terrified yelp, Pattricke the grand dragon fell into the crowd. The music stopped abruptly as dragon Pattricke’s shook his head to clear away the pain. “Woe be onto us!” dragon Pattricke cried as the Heavens darkened and a strong gust of wind blew across the land. A youthman who was gyrating near the stage and was almost struck by the falling dragon, turned to his friends and steupsed. He then quipped: “That damn dragon cyah prance. He cyah prance to save he life.”

But as people in the crowd laughed derisively, dragon Pattricke flew back to the podium and assured all that he had survived. “Doh worry ladies and gentlemen, I assure you the Prime Dragonminister is alive and well. In fact my heart is strong, the pacemaker was not dislodged and I am well,” Pattricke said. And with that everyone went home rejoicing and praising Yahweh. Their Chief was alive and well.

To be concluded next week
(Chapter Last: Pasdeo Banday’s prance macabre with dragon Pattricke)