The Jamaican Ninja Bert!!

by Richie Drenz

  Everton knew Bert was mighty frisky on his fine thread legs and that he didn’t hitch when it comes to using them, so he flew the door open fast.

  “A wha now Bert?”

  Everton glanced behind himself to make sure him fridge which was crammed with fishes was covered up properly. Then peeped outside to see if any thieves were in his ackee tree, raiding it and picking some of the young ackee that weren’t even open and throwing them back in the yard. Nothing he hated so much like when he’s gone on duty, people pick off his young ackee when dem a try raid him tree and him come see the young ackee them on the ground. It made him cry. Bert asked Everton one question.

  “A weh you a do inna Sponge Bob underpants? You a big man or big pappy-show?”

  Everton looked at Bert good, from head to toe. Bert was in his favourite tights already, no blouse to cover the gut, just Marj green tights. The green tights was Marj’s favourite tights but from Bert wore it one time and stretched it out, she told him to keep it.

  Everton was still looking at him good and not saying anything to defend his Sponge Bob underpants. He pushed out his big head a little investigating if anybody was out there with Bert.

  “How in yah one smell like fish market suh?”

  “Mi nuh know enuh, because a so-so chicken mi have inna mi fridge.”

  Then he looked straight at Bert and got straight to the point.

  “Weh you seh well important so early now? ‘Cause ‘member mi nuh have nuh fish.”

  “Mi want borrow you machete.”

  Everton realized that Bert’s head was wearing the mad cap, he thought he should have used his brilliant detective skills and realized that from Bert was in his green tights and bare-bellied.

  “Mi naaw lend you nuh machete fi go do nobody nothing.”

  “Mi have sense. You think mi want your cutlass fi thief?”

  “No, worse. Fi go chop somebody. Your matey or suh.”

  Everton made a pause, as if he knew Bert’s matey and could imagine Bert doing something murderous to him.

  “Just lend mi the cutlass and nuh bother mek mi come tek it.”

  Bert stretched out his hand right up Everton’s eyes without a blink of his eyelid. It almost look as if Bert stretched out him eyeballs a little too.

  “No Bert.”

  Bert started to shake one of his flexible legs. He was ready to kick Everton in his throat and Everton didn’t even realize the danger.

  “Lend mi di lass Eva!”

  “Fi wha?”

  “Lend mi!”

  “Fi wha?”

  Bert fly a kick on the half open door, kicking it wide open and almost level it off to the floor. Then said,

  “Eva?!”

  Everton was in shock, he didn’t answer. Bert repeated louder,

  “Eva?!!”

  “Yes.”

  “You see how your head big and your ears hard? A could a your face this mi a do so enuh. Like deh door yah. You see how mi slim and flexible.”

  “Tell mi weh you ago do wid it nuh.”

  “Mi affi tell you that? You fi lucky seh mi lef’ mi non-chucks over the yard or else mi woulda gi you two cross you back right now.”

  “Bert you nuh own nuh non-chucks.”

  “You chat too enveigle. Weh you know 'bout me?”

  “Inveigle?” The detective asked, “You use it wrong.”

  “Inveigle, inveigle, inveigle . . . anyway mi want use it, mi use it, Hsst.”

  “Weh you ago do wid mi cutlass?”

  “Mi still affi tell you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mi ago use it right dehso inna mi back yard. You can stand up weh you deh and see mi.”

  Bert was pointing close to the front where Everton’s ackee tree was at his and Bert’s fence and some of the tree even hung over Bert’s side. Everton replied,

  “As long as you nuh touch mi ackee tree.”

  “Mi nah touch you ackee tree. Mi wouldn’t do you that Eva, and mi know how you love your ackee dem. Mi woulda wicked fi go limb off piece.”

  The detective assessed the current situation, he contemplated it a little, he thought about damage prevention and damage control. He concluded that, well he could keep an eye on Bert through his back window and pree if Bert was going anywhere near his ackee tree.

  “Alright, mi ago cut you a likkle slack. But mek sure you behave sensible wid the cutlass. Nuh go do nuh madness.”

  “Naah Man. Everything criss, Everton Blender.”

  As Everton gave Bert the lass, Bert walked off fast, no hitch, no stutter, no thanks and the well agile Bert scaled the fence and climbed go straight up into the ackee tree from over his yard with the sharp cutlass in his hand and started working a limb fast with the cutlass, quick time Bert chopped down a limb and gone on another one.

  ‘Whop! Whop! Whop! Whop!’ With the sharp cutlass. The limb he was working on was well-loaded with a variety of ackee, ripe, open and young.

  Everton flew out his house with tears in his eyes, vex nuh backside. He knew his and Bert’s friendship was about to end. He ran under the tree and looked up, only to see Bert cock-up in style like he was taking breeze, still walking some chops through the loaded limb.

  CHAPTER 17

  ACKEE TREE & CUTLASS PASSA-PASSA

  Everton searched the ground for some stone to bust Bert’s head.

  Bert split his feet wide, wide apart, a very flexible pose in the tree top. He was well busy, chopping away at a limb and every time he swung the cutlass he sang a line from Bob Marley’s song.

  “One Love”. And when the cutlass steel blade dropped in the already half-way chopped limb he sang a next line

  “One Heart”.

  Everton shout out,

  “Weh you a do mad boy?”

  Bert didn’t answer, still singing and chopping a deeper and deeper ‘V’ through the off-white inner bark of the limb. Splinters of the inner bark flew as he chopped through. He was about to mix a Kartel tune in it.

  “Come out a mi ackee tree mad boy! Before mi call the police.”

  Everton searched the ground for some stone to bust Bert’s head. Bert didn’t even fart on him. Bert was chopping like wow and singing the Kartel tune now,

  “Kartel Come Breed Me…. Kartel Come Breed Me . . . Mi seh mi love you baby.”

  The tune sweet Bert and he started to put down some breed of bubble in the tree with his legs still spread out wide apart. Bert wine and go down and wine come back up and a chop same way. And in the middle of singing Bert said. “A pure things Bert a gwaan wid inna di people dem ackee tree enuh. And morning not even light out good yet.”

  Everton bawled out,

  “Hey, stop wine up inna mi tree inna no shirt!” Everton bit his lips and started search amongst the ripe ackee leaves on the ground for a big stone to lodge in Bert’s hip.

  Everton’s loud voice frightened Bert and one of his mawga foot he had cocked up on a slim limb, slipped off a little bit jerking him off balance,

  “Hey! Hey! Hey!” Everton shouted again when he couldn’t find a nice stone, “Don’t wine up ‘gainst none a the open ackee dem enuh. Watch mi and you inna the early morning yah! A gone whop up you!”

  Bert was full of agility. He caught back his balance and skin-up his mouth to the side and start making the scratch sound as he a mixed in the new tune.

  “Scriwi…scri…scri.” Then the new tune dropped in, “Vote for Labour.”

  Rocking his hip side to side then dipped and came back up. “Vote for Labour . . . Vote for Labour…”

  Bert didn’t like a bone in Portia Simpson, since she put tax on beef patty and it mad him. Bert still not even fart on Everton down on the ground and Everton’s blood was boiling down there. God helped Everton to find a nice size stone, finally.

  “Bert mi ago fling deh smooth stone yah an bruck you hip enuh! Mi serious. Come outta mi fruit tree now!”

  Bert was just still in the treetop swinging his hips side to side with his fat belly, no shirt.<
br />
  “Vote for Labour . . . Kartel come breed me . . . One love . . .”

  Bert chipped in a comment about himself in the mix.

  “What a big belly man frisky. Mi belly big like a Ferris wheel but watch deh! Watch deh, Coo pon Bert. Hey! Hey!”

  Bert started to concentrate on more wining than chopping and sang out loud.

  “Wine up mi body, mi a wine up mi body . . . Wine up mi body, mi a wine up mi body.”

  Bert still wasn’t paying Everton with the smooth stone any mind. He cocked up one foot in the air and was rocking and rocking and rocking out hell. He started to put down some breed of wine, wow! He rocked his hips and the skill Bert was still flinging chops in the limb.

  Bert said aloud from all the way up in the tree top, “No man Bert really a one ninja fi true. ‘Cause all when him a slip little him naaw drop. Watch how mi skill Man.” Bert called out, “Everton! Eva! Eva! Look! Look yah! Watch yah. You a watch? You see how mi skill? A wine and a chop same time. A gone limb off deh big piece a limb yah watch! A naaw stop.”

  Nothing hurt Everton so much, he wanted to arrest Bert same time. He drew back his hand to sail the smooth black stone in Bert’s side. Clivey was running from out of nowhere in the early morning, his Miami vice shirt half-open as usual and blowing behind him, his binoculars bumping up and down around his neck, two hands dangling over his head, his freckled face terrified, mouth shouting,

  “Noooo! Nuh bust him head. A mi friend.”

  Bert saw his friend running to his rescue and told him.

  “Him caan bust mi head! Stop fret!” Bert hauled his tights up higher “Mi have afro and mi head tough.”

  Everton got madder. He knew his hand was straight and he wouldn’t miss Bert. Bert was a nice size target. He sailed the stone with all the power he had up in the tree at Bert’s side before Bert could try and chop down a next one of his fat ackee limbs.

  Bert didn’t even look on the stone that Everton flung. He dodged the stone easily. Just swung his hips out of the way and still was moving on the rhythm he was singing to.

  Clivey’s iPhone rang in the top pocket of his colourful shirt. The Vybz Kartel ‘Cock it up on the dumper truck’ ringtone.

  Bert got frightened, that was his ringtone now he thought, and started looking for his phone because he knew he downloaded that ringtone yesterday, even though he can’t on his Nokia 3310, that didn’t matter. Searching his tights frantically for the phone before he missed the call, his foot slipped. Slipped right off, leg flew up in the air, flew up so high his tights crotch split. His body was falling through mid air. The breeze rushing pass his ears as he fell from the top of the tree. His back crashed into a couple of the ackee limbs on his way down, leafy branches slapped across his jaw, his eyes, across his mouth and a bigger branch lashed his entire face. He boofed into the ground. He crash-landed into the hard dirt on his face. His teeth nearly flew through his forehead. He dropped heavy like a whale falling from the sky.

  ‘DOOP!’

  Then rolled. He stopped rolling, laying on his back on the ground, his body sprawled and dizzy-ish. Bert couldn’t move. Tights crotches burst out and his white brief peeping out. Bert couldn’t believe he almost popped him neck over Clivey’s ring tone. He called out,

  “Help! Help! Clivey help! Mi spine bruck.”

  “Eva you wicked eeh!” Clivey said filled with anger, “and you know the man mad!”

  As the good friend he was, Clivey did not answer his phone call, though he knew it maybe his overseas relative in England calling this early about collecting money at Western Union, that’s how Clivey paid his bills, his Uncle Mikey. He ran to Bert and knelt beside him.

  “Which part a hurt you?”

  Bert shot a box off Clivey’s face. Clivey ducked. Bert had sent on the box so hard that when he missed he spun right around like a ninja turtle on the ground.

  “Weh you a try box mi fa?” Clivey asked with shocked eyes.

  “Stop duck and tek the box first, then mi tell you.”

  Bert fired off a next hard one at Clivey’s bony jaw. Clivey ducked again. He was gonna kick Bert’s skinny foot when he ducked down low but he didn’t bother.

  “Mi seh fi stop duck.”

  “Weh mi do?” Clivey asked.

  “Mi tell you, mi and you can’t have the same ring tone, that naaw go work. See mi nearly pop mi back when mi drop deh, just because you red yeye fi mi ringtone.” Bert said, “Change your ringtone from that. That a my song.”

  Clivey’s phone rang again, it was Bert’s song as his ringtone. Clivey looked down on his phone, it was Uncle Mikey’s long English number and by the time he looked back up, Bert fired the hottest box Clivey had ever felt across his straight nose.

  “Bert!!!” Clivey eyes shot wide open and shut back down tight. “Weh that fa?”

  “You just mek mi drop out a the tree and crick mi back. And mi warn you fi change your ringtone and watch deh. A it same one you still a use. You nuh love your friend back and him spine.”

  “A my ringtone.”

  “Change it. You never hear when seh a it mi have as mi ringtone now?”

  “But a mi first did have it.”

  “Change your ringtone, mi and you can’t have the same ringtone it a cause bay problem.”

  “What kind a problem?”

  “It a bruck people back.”

  Clivey got up from around Bert, holding onto his nose that Bert almost boxed off his face.

  Bert looked to Everton and asked,

  “You never see seh mi a drop? You couldn’t ketch mi?”

  Eva eyes were bubbling in anger, he didn’t reply.

  “A wha Eva? You couldn’t manage mi body weight?”

  CHAPTER 18

  WHY WAS BERT CHOPPING SO HARD THOUGH?

  “Eva, mi still hold on pon di cutlass enuh… so weh you a seh yah now?”

  “You shoulda bruck you two foot dem when you drop. A bet seh mi send you go prison?” Everton answered. “Look how long mi a tell you fi stop chop dung mi ackee tree, and you inna the tree top a bubble and a chop it down same way, like you deaf. Mi did ago bust up your head enuh.”

  Everton looked over to the ackee limb Bert just chopped down and was counting the ackee in his head.

  Pain start run through Bert’s body all over and you can see that it was paining him real bad from how he just suddenly started to ugly up his face and his mouth screwing. He stretched out his hand in the air to Everton. Everton didn’t touch it. With a sour face, Bert begged Everton.

  “Help mi up deh Eva.”

  Everton stood, staring at the man he wanted to war with and how he had no shame to be friendly asking him to help him up. He couldn’t be in his right mind. He began mentally counting the ackee on the ground again from one. Bert repeated,

  “Help mi up deh Eva. Mi feel like mi back pop or it ring out, sup’n do deh back yah.”

  Bert broke Everton’s concentration on counting the ackee. He lost count and had to start over again. Thirteen he reached and still some weren’t counted as yet. The more Everton count his ackee on the ground the more vex he was getting.

  “Help mi up nuh Eva Man.”

  Everton didn’t move, only hissed him teeth. Bert’s hand was still in the air begging his opponent a helping hand.

  Clivey bent to take up Bert.

  “Clivey nuh touch mi enuh. A Everton mi waan fi tek mi up.” He waved and dangled his outstretched hand at Everton,

  “Come nuh Man Everton, pick mi up, mi nuh heavy, Man.”

  He dangled his hand again waiting on Everton to help him up. He couldn’t believe his police neighbor was ignoring him so coldly just because he was chopping down two limbs out his ackee tree, compared to him nearly breaking his back awhile ago. Bert asked,

  “So hold on, you naaw help mi up mi neighbour?”

  Everton stopped counting at nine this time, blowing hot steam through his ears.

  “Help you up!? Help you up? A stone mi want fling after your two
knee dem and bruck your shin bone fi sports or frame you fi murder and send you go prison.”

  “Eva, mi still hold on pon di cutlass enuh… so weh you a seh yah now?”

  Everton silenced.

  “You know seh, mi can just push up and flick up right now, easy, easy. You think through mi belly big mi can’t dweet? See mi hand yah, help mi up.”

  Everton used his conscience. Grabbed his hand and helped him up, then asked still half-mad at Bert,

  “Weh you get up 4:30 and a come chop dung mi ackee tree fa and you know mi send people go a prison fi less than that, you think mi fraid fi frame you fi murder?”

  “Uh-uh. A lie that.” Bert replied, “A never nuh 4:30, you a add on extra minutes. A did 4:32 mi reach, you too ginal.” Something felt uncomfortable on Bert’s belly, he looked down and said, “And see one half-black ackee seed stuck inna mi navel deh. Who a go pick out the ackee seed from outta Bert navel? Watch deh.” Bert had a shiny smile on his face.

  “Whatever time.” Everton said, “Weh you a chop dung mi tree fa? And mi naaw tek nuh ackee seed outta your navel.”

  Bert plucked out the ackee seed out his navel. With a kind and giving heart, he stretched out his hand with the ackee seed towards Clivey in his Miami-Vice shirt, giving it to him, “Eh, you can tek this.”

  Clivey shook his head no. Bert’s face swelled. Then he hissed. He stretched his hand to Everton now instead,

  “Alright, you tek it then Eva.”

  Everton scrunched his face in scorn and nodded no.

  “None a uno nuh want it? It good enuh.” Both nodded no together. Bert got angry and blurted out at Everton,

  “From the ackee tree a bear, half a it over my yard and mi never get a open ackee off it yet. Every morning you budge from well early, before people wake up and pick off every single open ackee, all over my side. Suh mi nuh bother want my half a the tree then, since a just pure leaf mi a get fi sweep up a day time and you one a get all a di ripe ackee dem.”

  “A that mek you a go chop dung di tree?”

  “That can’t fair fi true Eva. The man must get too. Fair is fair. On Christ the solid rock I stand.”

  “Is either mi limb off my side, or mi chop you. Which one sweet you more? ‘Cause mi nuh know how one man siddung and nyam off one tree a ackee.” Bert began sitting up.

  “But mi nuh mean, you coulda ask mi fi three peg a ackee and mi woulda give you. That simple, after a nuh nothing that. Or mi coulda sell you some from outta mi room, under mi bed, fi a small price.”