A devil

Upbeat music emanated from the bungalow. Inside, noises of all forms competing for the centre stage. The sounds of people chattering, the guffaw of drunken men, the loud sound coming from the jukebox and the clinking of bottles. The men, all in their twenties chatted heartily. Some form of excitement going on.

“We gon' paint the streets red. Blue, black whatever colour we can think of,” One of the men a gingerhead, said. The others laughed as he said that. For every man in the room, his statement was funny. Well, with all his mannerisms , he could hands down make anyone laugh. Especially the sandy blond sitting across the room at the dining. He would have been guffawing, while throwing playful shades at his clown of a friend. But he was beyond distraught. Beside himself and appearing to have something eating him up.

While the jester was still at it, one of the guys stood up. His face full of smiles. He was about to cross the room when his eyes landed on the moo