Back at the cop shop they rip my blazer off my back and strip search me. ‘Where is it?’ they scream.
I’m standing butt naked and all they’ve found are eleven zols full of cow crap. Zols that I scored off some snot-faced, rip-off artist kid outside the Jah House.
Two hours later my ouledi and seven sisters arrive. Mama says Beautiful Babs, the principal’s daughter, saw me getting bust by cops and sounded the alarm. That’s why they’re here. My ouledi is tearing at her hair and my seven sisters look at me with mean eyes.
The cops say there’s no charge – I can go. They smirk at me like I’m some jakalas that got bust with a blazer pocket full of cow crap instead of prime Swazi.
Mama says there’s no smoke without fire and she knows I’ve been up to rubbish. She says this even when I tell her that just like Paris Hilton at the World Cup, I’ve been falsely accused.
But I know I’m guilty of failing the second test. The message from my buddies on my phone says I screwed up big time. And if I don’t pass the third test I’m finished.
Image: Roger Casas, CC-BY-2.0
WHAT DO YOU THINK? If Frank had been found with drugs in his possession, what could have happened to him?