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BC’S BARBADOS: Demonstrable


B.C. Pires

BC’S BARBADOS: Demonstrable

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In my wing mirror, there was still a good half-metre to the BMW in the next parking space but, mysteriously, I heard a crunch.
Yes, the demon that forces me do insane things like hit BMWs instead of Toyotas, talk to my children instead of beating them, and face life’s challenges using reason, trust and love instead of blind faith, prayer and a holy book, had possessed me again; or at least my right foot, which had bizzarely refused to mash brakes. Like any man possessed, I started to pray aloud.
“Heavenly Father,” I said, arms raised and spread, “release me from this evil spirit that has possessed me and wants to make me pay 500 bucks at the body shop.”
The BMW driver rolled his window down. “Gor Blimey!” he shouted. “Look how you mash in my door!” I joined my hands in prayer. “O Lord, my God,” I said, frowning at the Bima guy, “protect your faithful servant from this sinner!” He jumped out of the BMW. “I going protect your short arse,” he shouted, “with a jack handle.”
Suddenly it struck me: the Bima driver was also possessed; and his demon looked plenty more bad than mine. I contemplated letting our demons fight it out but discretion seemed the better part of possession.
I got out of my car and felt better: I was ten years younger and ten kilos heavier than the fella trembling with rage in front of me. “Let me,” I said, “see your insurance.” The BMW guy peered at me. “I thought you were possessed,” he said.
“No,” I replied, “I was merely saying that to avoid liability. But I’m not worried now because I feel I could beat you to a pulp. And then beat the pulp.”
The old fella started to scream for help. I started to scream louder.
“O Lord, my God,” I bellowed, “free me of this evil spirit. I suspecting is Beelzebub his-self, O God, don’t make me cuff down this old . . . .”
The BMW guy looked at me puzzled again. “I thought you weren’t possessed,” he said.
“I am not,” I said, “I was merely trying to provoke a national discussion about culpability and liability: do we take responsibility for our own good or evil acts, or do we hide behind God or the devil?”
The other man stared at me. “You weird,” he said. “Claiming demonic possession to explain bouncing my car and then pretending one minute you didn’t say it, next minute you didn’t mean it.
“You think you could talk that kind of bare . . . and get away with it?”
“Get away with it?” I said. “I could become a Cabinet Minister because of it!
“And if anyone questioned how safe Barbados could be in the hands of a man who believes in evil spirits causing road traffic accidents, a downturn in the economy or misbehaviour in ZR bus stands, I would have no choice but pray for them.”
The BMW driver backed away. “You’re firetrucking crazy!” he said.
“No,” I said, smiling beatifically. “I’m blessed!”

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