Sunday Sauce - Story of the year
Oxy Moron, Contributor
My reflection on the biggest story of 2010. Much of it, coloured by my own sordid imagination.
Saturday morning. Coronation Market. High-grade 'Mari Juana' on sale, but there are no takers. No one wanted pungent vegetable matters. They were only interested in Coke. Every nook and cranny was uprooted and searched but it couldn't be found. Though it was the source of recent upheavals and bangarangs, it was still in high demand, an insatiable frenzy of sort. But the mass hysteria and anxiety suddenly crescendoed into shock.
The car of a popular pastor was intercepted and Coke was found therein. What an unholy moment! He, who was filled with the spirit on Sunday, was transporting Coke, all $5 million worth of it, hidden in a curly pink wig, on a Tuesday afternoon. "Too Greedy!" he was called when accosted, for having the Coke all month long without sharing it. "Not at all!" he retorted in an incoherent way, saying he was taking it to the embassy for safekeeping, since he didn't trust the local authorities, who would finish it off in one night. But he was promptly relieved of the bounty and sent on his merry way.
But a certain commish was not amused. And the Rev was now suddenly the one in great demand. Tuesday night. The man of the cloth abandoned his flock. Cowering in bed, the goodly reverend prayed: "Lord, you know I'm always a man of truth, but this one time let me not tell it, for if I should, the tabernacle shall come tumbling down and the weekly church parties and fellowships shall be no more.
"Lord, I'm only human and I have always walked the straight and narrow. My addiction to Coke is my only vice and I was only protecting it from licky-licky, low-bite men in stripes and camouflage. Now, the Philistines have taken it away from me. Lord, give me strength to endure, for I suspect joy won't be coming in the morning."
Wednesday, with Coke now heavily guarded, the Rev was the new addiction. About 2 p.m. he arrived at the 'Office of the Criminal Investigation of Dudus' (OCID). After almost four hours of grilling the Rev emerged crestfallen,but defiant. And as vultures upon a moribund jackass, the media descended. A few impenitent utterances and he was off. But, it wasn't over. OCID couldn't get enough of him. Return he must.
Wednesday night, on his knee, the Rev whispered, 'Lord, this is when I need you most, for, you see, they didn't believe me, and now I don't know where all of this is leading to. Yes, I love the media spotlight, but not this kind. Is this how a man is treated for protecting the Coke, masking it in wig and all? I seek your divine intervention in these very troubled times, and when tomorrow comes, let them simply give me a slap on the wrist and call me naïve, anything else would be unacceptable. While I lay me down to sleep, I pray my Coke you will keep. Amen!'
Thursday, high drama. The Coke, under heavy security, was jetted away by US Marshalls to the Big Apple. And the Rev? Yes, he was slapped, but not on the wrist as was expected.
Have a happy New Year!