Mangohead and the Zaboca Thief S01E04

EPISODE 1

EPISODE 2

EPISODE 3

***

As Mangohead ran full pelt to his house another loud scream tore into his eardrum. He sped up; a casual onlooker would have compared his speed to that of Usain Bolt, except Bolt didn’t have to deal with holes in a lawn that would lead to a broken ankle if misjudged. Mangohead's lawn was a lush splendor of meadow, although the variety of grass wasn't lawn grass, rather an assortment of wild grass that populated lawns across the Caribbean. If it grew long enough it could slice skin with its sharpness. Luckily Mangohead pruned his lawn at regular intervals. The area beyond his chain-link fence, however, was a different story.

Mangohead and the Zaboca Thief S01E03

EPISODE 01

EPISODE 02

"Look fellers," Mangohead said to the two as they blocked his path and his escape. "What on allyuh minds?"

"We just want to find out if yuh playing cricket this season," the boy in front answered as the one blocking him from behind came up and threw an arm around him. "We looking to make a side before the rainy season start so we could practice nah."

The two boys were schoolmates of his. The younger one, nicknamed Two, was in his class whereas the older one, nicknamed Four (since he was older than Two by two years) was a couple classes ahead of them. Both boys had the same dark complexion. Four was a head taller than Two and had a huge, shaggy mop of hair that looked like the tangled mane of a lion. Four had a neatly shaved head, and was always properly groomed and well clothed. Two made a habit of being untidy whereas Four was the complete opposite.

"I not sure if I playing this season," Mangohead said to the boys. "I get tasked with a important job."

"Serious?" Two enquired eagerly. "How much they paying yuh?"

"I ain't getting pay for it," Mangohead said and the interest in Two's eyes faded.

"What yuh doing it for then, if not for money?" Fours asked. "Most times I have a job to do I does ask for money." He pronounced it 'arks'.

"It have a girl involved nah?" Two interrogated. "Somebody girl-child you sweet on?"

Mangohead and the Zaboca Thief S01E02

In case you're just getting caught up, constant reader, Episode 1 is available here. Now on to episode 2!

***

Walking past the sprawling garden, Mangohead entered the porch via the small swinging waist-high gate. The hinges complained vociferously as he edged his way into the verandah. A small waist-high wooden balustrade ran along the porch which was raised a single step height above the bare ground. The porch itself was made of varnished wood which creaked under Mangohead's wary steps.

He rested his hand on the door handle, turning it deftly as he pushed the huge wooden door inwards. In San Marco, it was unheard of to have one's door locked. It was a very friendly village where people would greet one another with smiles and usually everyone knew everyone else's business. The older heads of the village still acted like that although the younger generations knew that the encroachment of wealth brought with it the encroachment of crime. Although there had been no issues of housebreaking in San Marcos for some time, younger people were ever wary of the danger. Ma Procop had once told Mangohead that if people locked their doors it was because they had something to hide, not something to protect. She lived by those words, Mangohead mused as he let the door close behind him with a dull thud.

Mangohead and the Zaboca Thief S01E01

"Mangohead!" Ma Ramsawak called from outside the house. "Come downstairs, people here to see you!"

Mangohead groaned and rolled over onto his side. What time was it? Casting an eye on the large, green digits of the digital clock that sat atop his wardrobe, he noted that the time was around a quarter past seven; far too early to be stirring on a Saturday morning. Still, if he decided not to respond to his mother, there would be hell to pay later. If there was one thing every single village child knew, it was not to cross Ma Ramsawak, and Mangohead being her son, knew that far better than any other.

He heaved himself out of bed with a concerted effort and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as his feet unconsciously shuffled for his flip-flops. Having more or less got the elusive rubber-and-plastic accoutrements on, he half walked, half stumbled out the front door and down the stairs.