Excerpt #7 – “Bastard Pickney: The Jamaican Journal”

In yesterday’s episode, Anita arrived home soaking wet and told Puncie about her altercation with Regina.  Puncie goes berserk, brandishes her knife, grabs Anita by the hand and rushes off for Mona Estate with murderous intentions.

Read on…



The little boy and the little girl are climbing into the back seat of the spanking new black E36 BMW when Puncie and Anita walk up to the open gate.  Barrington is coming down the driveway when he spots them.  He stops mid-stride.  His mouth and his attaché case drop simultaneously.

Puncie does not stop at the gateway.  She walks right into the yard.  “Oyyy, Missa Barrington! A wha kinda almshouse yuh really a gwaan wid, ehhh?” she explodes as both his eyes and hers make four.

Her angry words seem to revive him and Barrington stoops to pick up his bag before moving towards her.  “Don’t come here with any excitement, Puncie,” he says in a gruff tone.  “Is not Hope Town dis enuh.  Lower yuh voice, man!”

Puncie walks right up to his face.  “But, is who yuh really a talk to soh? Mi look like yuh pickney? Eh?”

Her bosom is brushing his chest; she is too close.  This makes him uncomfortable.    Barrington takes one step back before speaking again.  “What yuh want, Puncie?”

“How yuh mean what mi want?” Puncie is incensed.  Her eyes shoot daggers at him.  “Mi come up here to have words wid dat likkle dutty Jezebel gyal dat yuh married to! Whey shi deh?”

“Ah don’t have a clue who or what yuh talking about, Puncie –”

She cuts him off before he finishes the lie.  “A fool y’a try teck mi fa, Barrington? Whey yuh woman deh? A she mi come fi argue wid!”

Barrington scowls at her before tossing the attaché through the car window and onto the passenger seat.  “Yuh need to calm down,” he says, turning back to her.

“Calm dung, yuh raas!” Puncie spits.  She points to the still damp child standing awkwardly at the entrance to the yard.  “Look pon yuh dawta! Imagine mi sen har come up here fi talk to yuh, an yuh likkle dutty crobait wife dash wata pon har! Um? Me an har likkle red raas dis mawnin! Shi waan wet up smaddy? Tell har fi come out ya come wet up Ivette Maureen Raasclaat Black! Whey shi deh? Eh? Whey di bloodclaat shi deh? How shi nuh reach out ya yet?”

“Shi not here!” Barrington mumbles.  “Lower yuh voice!”

Puncie shuts her eyes tight and bites down hard on her bottom lip.  “Barrington Raymond Parker, don’t mek mi lose mi temper pon yuh enuh! Don’t tell mi fi bloodclaat lower mi voice! Yuh tink a library dis? A try y’a try show off pon mi?  Eh? A yuh pickney rights mi a defend! Mi send har come up yah fi collect what is rightfully hers and all shi end up get is abuse! Imagine! Like mi pickney a some kinda slave or beggar…Eh? Like mi pickney a some kinda ol’ tief! Eh?”

Barrington is acutely aware that her voice is getting louder and louder with every word.  Some of the neighbourhood dogs are barking now and each yap or woof seems to punctuate each furious sentence that escapes her irate lips.  He looks over her head to the house across the road.  Mrs. Bridgemahon is out in her garden pretending to tend to her hedges but he can see that she is preoccupied with peering over them trying to see what is going on in his yard.  Next door to her, Dr. and Mrs. Chapman are standing on their porch, heads turned toward the ruction.  The last thing Barrington needs is to become the topic of his neighbours’ gossip.

He thrusts one finger into Puncie’s forehead.  “Shhhh!” he hisses through his teeth.

Puncie blinks as his spit sprays her face.

Barrington catches the murderous glint in her eye a fraction of a second before she snaps.  She dips into her skirt waist.  He dives for the car door.  One of the kids screams.

Puncie grabs the back of Barrington’s shirt as he hops into the driver’s seat.  He spins around to face her; flashes off the offending hand.  His eyes widen as he sees the gleam of the blade.  He loses his balance and falls across the seat.  Puncie collars him.  “A wha di raas yuh jus duh, Barrington!” she growls, knife poised above them.

The kids in the back of the car are hysterical.

“A kill yuh waan mi kill yuh bloodclaat!”

Barrington seizes the arm that grips the weapon; eases her off him.  “Wha’pen to yuh, Puncie? Yuh mad? A prison yuh waan goh?” he pleads as they wrestle.

“Mummy, no!”

Anita’s panicked voice filters through the haze of her mother’s rage.  Puncie freezes.

“Stop, Mummy! Stop!”

Puncie feels Anita’s small hands pulling her off Barrington.  She allows herself to be risen.

Barrington glares at Puncie as Anita pulls down her clothes and tries to take the weapon.  Puncie slaps away the child’s hand and slips the knife back into the folds of her skirt.  “A dead yuh waah dead, Missa Barrington! A come put yuh hand inna mi face…Ah will discipline yuh enuh! Bright!

Barrington fights to catch his breath.  “Just cool nuh, Puncie!”

Puncie stands outside the vehicle, holding onto the door.  She is huffing and puffing.  She cuts her eye at him.  “Yuh is a wutlis piece o’ shit, Barrington Parker.  Yuh nuh shame?”

He begins to climb across the gear stick.  “Shame fi what, Puncie?” he asks as he lowers his substantial frame into the driver’s seat.

Puncie sucks her teeth loudly.  “Barrington, nuh mek mi get bringle in ya dis mawnin.  Y’a play fool fi ketch wise nuh?”

Barrington moves slowly, deliberately.  He reaches across and inserts the key into the ignition.  Puncie realizes what he is about to do.  She jumps into the passenger seat and swipes the key.  “A wha di blouse an skirt y’a try?” She drops it into her bosom.

Barrington reacts instantaneously.  He plunges one hand into his baby-mother’s cleavage.  Puncie is momentarily stunned.  A fraction of a second later she recovers and slaps him hard.  They begin to tussle.  He is digging around under her t-shirt.  She thumps him around his ear temple.  He grabs her throat.  She flails her legs and head-butts him.  He curses.

“Gimme mi cyar key nuh!”

“Leggo offa mi!”

“Puncie, y’a get mad?”

“A waan kill yuh bloodclaat! Mi seh fi leggo offa mi!”

Barrington’s knee ends up in Puncie’s stomach.  Puncie locates his family jewels and tugs.


His tortured screams add to the cacophony the three children are raising.

Nobody sees Regina coming.

“Barrington, a kill yuh waan mi kill yuh?”

“Leggo mi balls, Puncie! Jezas Chris, woman! Leggo mi balls nuh man!”

“Yuh nuh know a who y’a deal wid? Yuh waan mi pop out yuh hood root, bwoy?”



Barrington and Puncie freeze.

Regina seizes Puncie by the waist and drags her out of the BMW.  Regina is bigger but Puncie’s rage makes her stronger.  She flips around in mid-air and snatches a fistful of Regina’s light-brown hair.

Dutty gyal! A you mi out ya a wait pon long time!” she bellows. “How yuh soh bumboclaat bright, eh? Dash water pon my pickney? A kill mi a goh kill yuh likkle red raas today!”

Regina is squealing like a cornered piglet; Puncie has a firm grip on her tresses.  She tries in vain to get free as her husband’s one-time woman starts reigning blow after blow upon her.  “Help! Murrr-der! Help mi, Barrington!

WHAP! Puncie slaps her across the left cheek.

BAP! Another box reddens the right cheek.

WHAP! “Yuh nuh get nutten yet, dutty gyal! A kill mi come fi kill yuh nasty raas!”  The back of Regina’s jacket rends as she tries to escape the beating.  She kicks out at Puncie’s leg but Puncie is small and frisky.  Regina misses the target and doubles over as Puncie answers with a blow to the stomach.  Puncie is cussing like a sailor as she pummels her enemy.  She loses control and all her senses go numb.  She doesn’t see the radio car.  She doesn’t hear the approaching footsteps.  She doesn’t feel the hands that close around her as she fires one final kick and misses Regina’s bowed head.

Dirty bitch!” Regina straightens.  She laughs like a maniac as she points to the two uniformed policemen who are holding Puncie now.  “I called the police! Bet yuh didn’t know.  Now dem going to lock yuh up! Fight them now, nuh! Since yuh soh bad!”


3 thoughts on “Excerpt #7 – “Bastard Pickney: The Jamaican Journal”

  1. WHOOOOIIIEEE!!!! Regina almost got knocked the HELL out! Keep writing Mandisa, and I shall keep reading ’cause I need to see how this ends. I have to backtrack though ’cause I haven’t read the first couple of excerpts yet. But loving it so far. Barrington’s spinelessness is irritating.

    • Your reaction is priceless, Allison! LOL! Barrington is reminiscent of all the deadbeat Dads that so many of us had to/have to grow up with. And, yes, their “spinelessness” is what makes them such poor excuses for men.

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