Black blood is a futuristic story Jamaican depicting the life and times of a fictitious Jamaican police commissioner named - Watkins, Commissioner "Shaky" Watkins, and his many encounters with the count - count Lasco: a trans-continental drug lord and wanna-be Jamaican narcotics king-pin. The world was on a comeback trail after "the conflict" had passed and of the countries and peoples that were affected by it was starting to reinvent themselves. While many of those Nation's stars were still falling in the aftermath, others were rising at meteoric speed. One such fast-rising country at the time was the tiny island of Jamaica in the Caribbean. Commissioner Watkins, was the top cop of the Jamaica constabulary force then, and was nearing the end point of his illustrious career when a series of never-before-seen types of crimes started flaring up on the then rapidly developing Jamaican landscape, the commissioner wanted nothing more than to crack the case before he demits office, would he? Come along with me, and see. There's a lot of what you want here, we spared none of the gory details. Lots of blood, thrills, spills, dark humor, and anecdotes. So, grab some comfort food, pull your feet up, let's go #backtothefutureagain
Here's an excerpt.
It was dinner time at the commissioner's house, the entire family plus his mother was seated at the table. While they were there at the table eating fried chicken and potato chips among other things. Grandma, she was commissioner Watkin's mom, but everyone else called her grandma.) So, grandma was sitting there at the table. She was the only one with the bucket of potato chips, she just loved fried potato chips. And very little else. Billy was sitting on the right of his grandmother who was the commissioner's wife. And who was sitting to the right of grandma, (her mother-in-law and the commissioner's mother)
So little Billy was two chairs away from grandma who was there with the bucket of chips. Tucked under her hampered load of beads, we'll just call em that for the sake of making this point with a degree, of subtlety that is. While grandma sat there stuffing herself full of potato chips. She managed to pull the bucket out from under the bouncing beads. The container tilted slightly forward, and to the left of the center, she pushed it at Ferrari speed across the mother sitting next to her at the right. Going all the way to the far end of the seats.
Then she pulled it back quickly, then back and forth again. With the finishing point, point straight at Billy the kid's nose. As if to say: "This is your one and only chance at even so much as touching one of them. Let alone tasting one slice of these potato chips in here tonight." So, Billy Joe, the kid would have dipped a nimble right hand into the bucket very fast. He settled for the first thing, or the number of things, he was to find that he had in his fist. Because he knew from experience that whatever he happened to have in there when he pulled it out. That was likely to be what he was going to inherit from the potato chips eating contest there that night.
From Grandma's perspective, however, that was a very clever trick on her part. So designed to serve several purposes, in her mind. She really wanted to let the kid in on some of the chips. But for him, and only him.
"Don't you get too smart though kiddo," she was thinking. You're not going to deprive me of the lion's share of my comfort food here this evening. So, whenever you dip in, make sure that you get something! Because I'll be making damn sure that it won't be much. Another aspect of grandma's plan was to make sure no one would be able to accuse her later, of eating all of the chips and not even offering a bite to anybody. Not even to the little baby boy.