Narrated by Slippers
Di rain falling like it vex.
Mi ears wet. Mi tail heavier than mi pride.
And Lady Dee?
She standing in front di small roadside chapel, looking like she leading praise and rescue at the same time.
Mi look up.
Socks and Shoes circling di steeple like dem doing praise and worship pon a wire.
Lady Dee bawl:
“SOCKS! SHOES! Mi counting to ten… and mi nuh reach ten since primary school!”
But dem nah listen.
Shoes flap once like him doing choir choreography.
Socks perch pon di tip-top, feathers puff up like him feel righteous.
From behind we, Pastor Demus peek out di vestry, soaked to him collarbone, hands clasped like him cyaan believe dis really happening pon holy ground.
“Mi cyaan even pray…” he whisper, eyes to di sky.
Lady Dee grab one old ladder from beside di caretaker’s shed.
Rusty.
Wobbly.
Leaning like it already give up.
Mi bark once:
“No Queen. Mi beg yuh. Mi cyaan lose mi owner pon holy grounds.”
She strap her cap tight, step pon di first rung, and seh:
“If dem nah come dung, mi going UP.”
Trevor let out one “Maaay!” like him agree.
Bubbles bob to one side of him tank and hold a picket sign in marker:
“If she fall, mi suing everybody.”
Rain still falling.
Lady Dee climbing.
Choir people gather under umbrella like dem witnessing some biblical episode.
Socks: “Mi did just want freedom.”
Shoes: “Mi joined di choir. Sister Muzz Buzz seh mi high notes sweet like ripe naseberry.”
Lady Dee shout:
“Yuh high notes almost mek Deacon drop! Come offa di roof!”
Final step.
She reach.
Stretch out hand.
Shoes flutter down first — land pon her arm, all humble.
Socks hesitate.
Squawk once.
Flap hard.
Then descend slow like one fallen angel.
Lady Dee whisper:
“Yuh nearly cost mi salvation AND balance. But mi glad unnu safe.”
Di congregation clap.
Pastor Demus lift both hands to di heavens like altar call complete.
Trevor munch something sacred-looking by di banana tree.
Bubbles blink twice and float upside down — just for effect.
Mi curl up pon the wet step and whisper:
“Mi haffi retire after dis.”
Back at Home
Rain done.
Birds grounded.
Slippers finally dry.
Bubbles demanding rights.
Trevor… already chewing di tie-back from the curtain rod again.
Lady Dee drop her bag, fling off her soggy cap, and seh:
“Next time unnu want church trip — carry yuh own Bible and pack yuh own snacks.”
Mi peek from under di table and sigh:
“We still in Episode 6?”
Coming Up Next:
Episode 7 – Scene 1: Sunday Dinner… or Sunday Disaster?
Lady Dee seh she done wid drama.
She reach home, hang up her soaked clothes, and take out two packs of goat meat fi season —
because no matter how di week mash up,
Sunday dinner must go on.
She plan fi cook.
She plan fi sip a Ting.
She plan fi peace.
But wid feathers flying, Bubbles bubbling, and Trevor still chewing everything…
Peace did already book a flight.
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