Butty’s Wish
- Fiction By SCOTT WILLIAMS –
The boys Uranus ‘Butty’ Johnson and Sirius Lee Johnson called themselves The Wonder Twins as they were raised together and dressed alike, as brothers in the same house in Georgetown, Guyana.
Differing paths in life found the brothers. Teenaged Butty was a lucky thug while adult Butty, now Sergeant in the Royal Bahamas Police Force, remains a thug at heart. His brother Sirius became a shaman-healer.
It was a surprise when Butty called upon Sirius at his very modest one room shed for the first time in a decade. At Sirius’s front door there was no greeting, just a pronouncement by Butty, “Sirius, brother, know that if you do not see me again, Bisrat is the reason.”
“Bisrat, the Indian horror! You dunda-head! Him, the mafia torturers! Bisrat, who removes digits for each week a debt naw paid, the eleventh digit make you a eunuch.” Shouted the magician Sirius, “Bisrat boys done in all the rest of gangs in Georgetown, the Phantom Death Squads killers of 400. He behind the Diwali massacre too. He broke out dat Fineman and he gang of five former cops from Georgetown prison jus’ because his sister done hook up with Fineman. Him the master of the Blackie Shootout? Whyda’ell you duh cross dat path?”
“Brother, I didn’t cross he. I gambling owe him 80,000 USD. I lost money on a sure retirement thing. He will start taking digits next week.”
“Butty, no sure thing loses. You scammed. You a policeman and your Police Special Squad lost in that Blackie shootout. Now you going be retired for sure. Whatcha goin do?”
“I don’t know Sirius, but I need magic. It was you, right, who got that Black Caiman to return alive a child that it took last Winter?”
Butty nervously fidgeted during Sirius sudden lengthy silence. broken Sirius said, “You know Butty, I’m just a healer, but that Caiman thing needed more than healing power. Besides you know Bisrat got too many soldiers.”
Butty pulled the big card, “Sirius, this is me, life or death. Mothers will be devastated.”
“Brother, as if you haven’t already hurt them… Still there’s a small chance you can beat he-at-him own game.”
Butty replied, “Sirius? Steal from Bisrat! Dats dunda-head crazy man. For dat he’d make slaves of alla we women and children.”
“Butty, even for you this should be fool proof, if ya lissen. Watch! De bes’ bad magic I know is in a bottle containing the Baccoo demon I used to get that child. I know the demon’s real name and I can’t use it no more. You can have it. Jus’ open the bottle and call out ‘Abiku Nazrudin come’ three times. Open it at night, Nazrudin will work at night. Open it at day, he work then.”
“Abu Nasseruddin? Sirius! That’s the name of the Chief.”
Sighing, Sirius said, “No Butty, its Abiku Nazrudin, not Abu Nasseruddin your boss. You must take care. A Baccoo can get nasty and turn at smallest slight. This Abiku be angry if you call him Nasseruddin. Get it right and he will be your servant for twenty-four hours. Careful, after a day of work the Baccoo turns. That’s how the negative stories you’ve heard occur. Tell it to return into the bottle before a day has passed. I have known surly Baccoo to require a death, somebody you kill in its name or it takes your life.”
That night, Butty sat at the table in his darkened shed. After setting out a bowl of mashed bananas in milk, he began to blow special lit incense Sirius gave him. When the incense was finished, he removed the stopper on the bottle. Softly cooing, “Abiku Nazrudin come, Abiku Nazrudin come, Abiku Nazrudin come.”
As if smoke oozing from a cigarette deposited in a bottle, the Baccoo flowed out. It appeared like a purple stuffed bear-like creature. It smelled like feces. It stood under two feet in height. It had no knees, its nails resembled claws. Its giant oblong head had lidless eyes, two holes for a nose, and mouth with numerous little sharp teeth. The creature jumped on to Butty’s shoulder, and pulled his dreads. After awhile it leaped feet first into the bowl of mashed bananas in milk, bent far over and began slurping.
“Abiku Nazrudin,” said Butty, “Bring me Bisrat treasure.”
The demon finished the bowl and left so quickly there was a breeze. Butty refilled the bowl and opened a beer. Before the beer was down to the label, the demon returned again to his shoulder, rubbing damp smelly hands on Butty’s mustache and beard. After licking the bowl, Abiku pooped two hundred fifty large thick engraved ancient gold coins on the table. Given their thickness and the price of gold, Butty was certain a quarter of a million USD sat in front of him.
Near morning, Butty, feeling lucky, said, “Abiku Nazrudin, bring me more Bisrat treasure.”
The Baccoo returned with a box of cigars. So Butty yelled, “No Abu Nasserudin, treasure you fool.”
This time Abiku Nazrudin drenched Butty in manure.
After washing, Butty decided Bisrat’s men would be looking for the gold. He took his boat a mile out, dropped and anchored a box with the gold and recorded its coordinates. After recording the coordinates, Butty began sailing up the river, the Baccoo showed up with his box of gold and with irresistible strength it pushed Butty in the water where his leg was only the first limb removed by a Caiman. Butty’s last thought was the third time he invoked Abiku Nazrudin, he violated the rules.
A longer version of this story appears in the book A Flash of Dark vol2, Writers Den 2018.
Dr. Scott W. Williams, Professor Emeritus University of Buffalo, SUNY; Member of The Rochester Folk Art Guild in Middlesex and part time resident of Canandaigua.