Somehow, I have to stop Attie from telling his joke. My brain is going round and round like a washing machine, trying to find a way. Just as well I only had one beer.

I jump up and I lie, “Hang on, Attie. I’m just going to the kitchen for another beer. Wait till I get back, OK.”

That seems to work. Attie stays silent.

I’m not going for a beer, really. No – I’m going to get the lights back on – right now while everything is still warm and friendly between Attie and Jos. Right now before Attie can do anything to screw this up.

So I rush to the kitchen, knocking the damned coffee table right over on my way.

But I’m already thinking about the last part of my bullet-plan.

  • Attie will get a surprise to see this great fun guy is a black guy.
  • Attie will say, “Now I understand, Dennis! You have taught me a lesson. I will never be a bigot again. I won’t be prejudiced against people just because they are different from me. Thank you, Dennis.”
  • Boom! Mission accomplished.

    • “Please let it happen this way,” I’m whispering, begging the dark cosmic universe.

    I take a deep breath. I open the electricity box and switch the power back on.

    Light floods through the whole flat. It’s like that Bible story when Paul is on the road to Damascus and suddenly this bright light shines all around him. That picture was on the wall in my Gran’s house when I was a kid. It was called: ‘Paul on the Road to Damascus’.

    For a moment, there is silence. Total silence like the world just stopped turning.

    And then, then the world explodes into noise. Well, Attie explodes. He is screaming like a crazy wild man.

    “You bastard, Dennis! How could you do this to me? Do you think this is funny? Do you think this is a joke? You are sick in the head, you low-life bastard. I’m never speaking to you again. You hear me? You and me are over! I’ll never forgive you for tricking me like this!”

    I rush through to the lounge, tripping over my upside-down coffee table. But Attie is already at the front door. He glares at me. His face is this purplish colour, like he’s about to have a heart attack.

    “Wait, Attie! Let me explain,” I say. But he is gone, the front door slamming hard and loud behind him.

    And Jos sits huddled on the sofa. He looks suddenly so small, like a reed battered by a huge storm.

    “I’m so, so sorry, Jos!” I say.

    He shrugs, “Don’t stress, Dennis. I’m used to it. I can take it. I’ve had worse.”

    ***

    Tell us: What will happen now?