rs3ex

The sun, an orange ball of mystical proportions was falling, a leaking balloon that quizzically swelled instead of shrinking as gravity pulled it down towards the surface of the ocean in the west. Cirtron and I sat on the beach with a pair of sand covered dogs, one each reclined at my left and Cirtron’s right, us in the middle. The hounds were the bookends for the two of us. I pulled a lighter out of a pocket to reintroduce flame to the tobacco in my pipe and Cirtron held his own vice between the tips of two fingers. I looked down at the little sand rat beside me and scratched her ear. Belle only yawned. Cirtron spoke.
“So mon, how d’you tink de work for de inn, mon? Good?”
Belle kept yawning while I kept scratching. “Cirtron, I don’t know. Maybe it isn’t so good. I mean we just got started, and man, the work to do and the materials we are going to need are both staggering. It’s a lot.”
“Yes, mon. De work not be much fun alone, but together, ah, we have de smiles ‘pon us!
I sighed and answered. “Cirtron, it isn’t the work that gets me. That’s just time. But the money for materials is going to be a lot. I know you and Sheila have money in the bank, but I haven’t seen the accounts and everywhere I look in the place, I see dollar signs.”
“Jays, mon. You call de money here jays. Don’t have de worries mon, de money she come.”
I wanted to say, “Oh, yeah, right. Like the stuff is growing on the trees around here. All I can see is coconuts.” But I stayed quiet and looked out at the sun balloon over the water.
Cirtron must have sensed my concern and he stood up. “Yes, mon. She come. Lemme show some ting for you. Wait, mon.” He took a few steps away from where he’d been seated and peered down at the darkening sand. After a moment, he reached down and plucked a bit of some sort of trash and came back to me, held it out for me to take and said, “Look, mon. Tell what you see dere.”
I was getting annoyed. I looked at the piece of beach refuse and then said, “Cirtron, it’s a cigarette butt. So what?”
“No, mon. You look not so close. In Weescoonseen and in New Yark, d’mon finds such on de street. But day be very different. Y’see, dis one, she be smoked all de way. In your country, de cigarettes on de ground have not been smoked down smoked so low.”
I looked at the butt once more. Sure enough, not only was there no paper left with tobacco at the end of the filter, the end of the filter which would have been opposite the absent and littering smoker’s lips was burned.
“See mon, de Jamaican people do not waste any ting,” Cirtron said, “We be find de tings and money, mon.” Cirtron turned away and headed back to the tottering inn leaving me with his island wisdom, the two sand covered dachshunds and the sun balloon which was still sinking, and likely nearly out of air.
The sun and conversation left little impression on the hounds. Their only concern, as always, was food. Shouldn’t we be going back in about now while Carson is cleaning up? We don’t want Paris to hog all the floor snacks! No, no no!
I rose, turned away from the water and sinking sun and motioned to the dogs to follow me.
About time, yes it is don’t you know! Time for snacks. Yup, yup yup.