Satiricus was all agog about Prince Harry and couldn’t hide his excitement from the fellas around the table at the Back Street Bar. He’d switched seats with Hari so he could keep up with the goings-on on the TV behind the bar. Satiricus was about the only patron who showed any interest in the royal visitor.
“So how does it feel to have the same name as a Prince,” said Satiricus enthusiastically to Hari.
“Sato ole friend,” said Hari, “I know you mean that as a compliment, but the fella’s real name is Henry which they shorten to “Harry” for reasons I’ll never know!”
“But Sato, me gat fuh aks yuh somet’ing,” started out Bungi hesitantly. After all, Satiricus was paying for the beers.
“Go ahead, Budday!!” burst out Satiricus extravagantly. “Ask anything you want on this special day!”
“Ah wha’ mek yuh suh happy da bai Harry visit Guyana?” Bungi asked.
“Bai? Bai?” asked Satiricus incredulously. “The fella is a Prince!! His family used to rule us!”
“Me know da,” said Bungi dourly. “Da wha’ mek me aks.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” replied Satiricus in puzzlement. He glanced at Hari, who was smiling broadly.
“Well…Bungi works in the cane fields, you know,” explained Hari. “And he wants to know if Harry’s family used to rule us and make us slave in the cane fields, why are you happy to see him?”
“But Harry had nothing to do with that?” protested Satiricus. “He’s the son of that beautiful Princess Di and Prince Charles!”
“Me Daady and Mumma beautiful too,” objected Bungi. “How yuh know dem na coulda bin Prince an’ Princess in India?”
“Yes…but Harry didn’t take away their Kingdom,” insisted Satiricus, with a weak smile.
“But ‘e fambly get rich pan abee fambly sweat,” said Bungi firmly. “Dem get fuh live in palace an’ abee get fuh live in logee.”
“Sato, you think Prezzie and Nagga Man and Rupie would skin their teeth and bow to Bungi, who still works in the cane fields,” asked Hari. “Yet they’re doing exactly that to a son of the family that got us into this mess?”
Satiricus said, “I never thought of it that way.”
