The collateral tongue

There Patricia was, in her cream, floral couch, when upon her gate there was a knock. Lazily, she removed her full body to find out who was disturbing her joy, her soap opera.

It was her mischievous neighbour, Peggy. And the look on her face said she was up to no good.

So, slowly, Patricia walked to her gate, but Peggy could not wait. Mid-way, she asked in an alarming tone, loudly, "Yuh no know say Government have yuh business expose ponline?"

"Like wah so?" a startled Patricia asked.

"Like the cream floral settee that yuh use to borrow money wid!"

Patricia's jaws dropped with a thud on to her ample bosom.

That was over a week ago, but it wasn't only Patricia who was stunned by the news of the existence of an online government platform where collateral is registered and where its details could be accessed by all and sundry.

uneasy moment

And that's how Peggy learned that Patricia had used everything in her house, including her breakfront with a piece of glass missing, and her cream, floral settee, as collateral for a small loan.

When the news got out, it was a very uneasy moment for many, not for me though. I, Oxy Moron, do not borrow. I only lend.

People were now entering the names of their enemies, detractors, supervisors, politicians, entertainers, the Pope, notorious gunmen, etc, but whom they all forgot to search were their cheating spouses.

I, Oxy Moron, not a lover of people's business, was livid that such a platform existed, but the more the searches continued, the more my interest was piqued. So, I slowly removed myself from the excitement and went to do my own research.

There is this ageing, pot-belly man, who couldn't get enough of the details of people's loans. So I decided to research him. And there his name was on my laptop screen, but when I saw his collateral, my eyes fell from their socket on to the keyboard.

When they were back in, I looked long and hard at the word tongue. He had used his tongue as collateral! Then, my heart stood still for a second when I read the description of his tongue: "pointed, pinkish white from overuse, very long, rough and scaly like a crocodile's skin, of great sensual value, in great demand, covered by insurance".

So I called him discreetly, and showed him his business. He exclaimed, "But that was long ago!"

"As long as your tongue," I joked. He was mad. Then he called a certain newspaper, which ran with the story the following day. And in less than 24 hours access to his and other people's business was denied.

But, I, Oxy Moron, do not believe that is the end of the story. That scaly-scaly, pointed tongue might just be at the centre of a legal battle. For many reasons Mr Nosy Parker cannot live without it.