‘Hello Obby,’ Cyril greeted, ‘You marching today ?’
‘Marching?’ Obby frowned.
‘Yes, calling for Zooma to fall?’
‘To fall, that doesn’t sound very nice. He might hurt himself.’Obby said.
‘I don’t think he will hurt himself,’ said Cyril.
‘Why?’ asked Obby.
‘Because I’m sure he wears knee pads,like the Indian cricket team.’ Cyril replied.
‘So are you going to march?’ Cyril asked his friend again.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Obby, ‘What happens after he falls? Shouldn’t we at least pick him up?’ Obby sounded concerned.
‘No I don’t think we need to do that because he has friends that will do that for him I’m sure,’ Cyril said convincingly.
‘Will they be marching as well? asked Obby.
‘Yes I think they will.’
‘They don’t sound like nice friends.’ Obby said.’I wouldn’t march to have you fall Cyril.And then pick you up when you fall.’
‘Maybe they are spies,’ Cyril said.’To see who is marching and who pushes him so he falls.’
‘You mean like Russian spies?’
‘Yes,’ said Cyril.
‘Maybe we have Russian spies living here.’ Obby said in a quite tone.
‘Now that you mention it I do see a lady at the butchery buying lots of Russian sausages.’ Cyril replied.
‘I think we are on to something,’ Obby said,‘I think we should follow her.’
‘Maybe we should dress up in disguise?’ Cyril suggested.
‘Why?’ asked Obby.
‘In case she tells Zooma that she saw us marching.’
‘Do you really think he will believe a dassie was the cause of his fall?’ asked Obby.
‘You never know,’ said Cyril.’So are we going to follow the Russian sausage lady?’
Cyril and Obby kept a safe distance while following the Russian Sausage lady.( code name-RSL).
Cyril was in disguise. He was wearing his sister’s sun glasses. His sister had threatened him that if he broke her sun glasses she would throttle him because she couldn’t afford another pair because of the junk status caused by Zooma. Both him and Cyril agreed that there was lots of junk lying around so maybe Zooma was not big on cleaning up. But did he deserve to fall because of it they wondered.
‘It’s sounds a bit mean to want him to fall because of all the junk,’ Obby said to Cyril.
‘Maybe they want him to fall in his own mess,’ Cyril replied.
‘Yes that could be it.’
‘Maybe we shouldn’t talk so much and rather concentrate on RSL who is about to go into the butchery.’ Obby said.
Obby and Cyril waited and waited outside the butchery.
‘Why she’s taking so long?’ Cyril asked Obby.
‘Maybe the butcher is Russian too and he is putting messages in the sausages.’
Finally Mrs RSL came out with a big bag.
Again they followed her at a distance.
The RSL stopped to speak to a young boy. They couldn’t see who it was because they were too far behind because as Cyril was hopping the sunglasses kept on sliding down his nose so he had to stop and slide them back up.
The young boy quickly ran back towards the butchery and got something for her and she slipped it into the bag.
” She has infiltrated the youth too?’ Obby said in a shocked voice.
‘That’s a big word Obby, what does it mean?’
‘It means she is working with the youth and supplying them with Russians,’Obby told Cyril, who was now looking over his sun-glasses.
Obby and Cyril quickly picked up their pace.
‘Hello boys,’ they heard someone call from behind. They turned around to see Ma Miliswa.
Oh no just as they were on a mission they had to stop and be polite, Obby thought to himself.
‘Hello Ma Miliswa they greeted her.’
She seemed concerned that Cyril was wearing sun glasses and enquired if his eyes were sensitive to the light.
‘No,’ he said,’It’s a disguise.’
‘Disguise?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We are following that lady because we think she is a Russian spy.’
‘Russian spy,’ Ma Miliswa repeated.
‘Yes,’ said Cyril.
‘You think Mrs Forgarini is a Russian spy?’ asked Ma Miliswa.
‘Yes,’ said Obby,lowering his voice and hoping Ma Miliswa would do the same.
‘And what makes you think that?’ she asked.
‘She wants to see who pushes Zooma so he falls and then she is going to tell him who pushed him and they are all going to be in big big trouble and will be sent to Incunlalaland where they will have to clean the cattle kraal which they paid for with their taxes,’ they told her in great detail.
Ma Miliswa was trying not to smile as they spoke in their serious hushed voices.
‘So you think Mrs Forgarini is a Russian spy?, she asked again.
‘Yes,’ we do they said in one voice.
‘And what proof do you have?’ she asked them.
‘She buys lots of Russian sausages and they have messages in them for the other Russians and she had also infiltrated the youth and we saw her talking to a young boy who went and got something for her from the butchery,’ Cyril told her.
Just as they were telling her all of this Thabo came up to greet his mother.
‘Hello ma,’ said Thabo.
‘Hello Thabo where have you been?’ his mother asked him.
‘Mrs Forgarini had forgotten her salami at the butchery and I went to get it for her,’ he told his mother.
Oh no thought Obby. Their friend was a Russian spy too.
‘That was kind of you Thabo helping Mrs Forgarini, The Italian Lady who goes to the butchery once a week to get chorizo sausages to cook for her big Italian family.
Thabo couldn’t understand why his mother was talking funny and emphasising certain words and looking at Obby and Cyril while speaking. He must get his mother out of the sun he thought to himself.
‘We must go Ma Miliswa,’ Obby said hurriedly.
‘Aren’t we following RSL anymore?’ asked Cyril.
‘No she is Italian.’
‘What difference does it make?’ asked Cyril.’A spy is a spy.’
‘I think we have the wrong end of the sausage,’ Obby replied.
Cyril looked confused.
‘Maybe it’s best we just clear up all the junk,’ Obby said.’Litter bugs that’s what I say!’ as he bent down to pick up the chips packets blowing in the wind.