Satiricus was astounded. He’d heard – mostly when listening to the priest in his Church – that “money was dirty”. He’s always had his doubts about that proposition – but now here was living proof.“Cappo! Imagine this garbageman getting 1 MILLION a year to haul garbage to this landfill!!” Satiricus exclaimed to his friend who hadn’t even taken his first swig of his beer at the Back Street Bar. “Why did my father insist I “bust” my head in school?”“Sato, me fr’en’,” intoned Cappo, “me always know garbage gat big money!”“How the arse YOU know that?” demanded Satiricus belligerently.“Well, remember Potoo?” Cappo replied after a short pause during which he took a loooong pull at his beer.“Of course I remember Potoo,” replied Satiricus. “The fella from front street who used to catch rats in the cane fields. He went to America when his mother sponsored him. What does he have to do with what we talking about?”“Budday!! Lis’en, na!” Cappo was smiling. “Potoo bin wuss dan me in school. He cyaan even read an’ write.” He paused to take another gulp of his beer.“And?” interjected Satiricus impatiently.“And suh when ‘he reach New Yark, garbageman bin a de only jaab he cou’d get.” Cappo paused for effect. “But in only five year time he wuk suh much money ‘e now gat five house in New Yaark! Garbage gat biiiiiig money, Sato!”“But that was in New York…they have the big bucks there,” pointed out Satiricus indignantly. “They spend millions of dollars for paintings that look like garbage to me! But this is Guyana!”“Progress, Sato…Progress!” Cappo smirked. “If abee can spen’ billian fuh salute wan big flag, jus’ like ‘Merica pan dem Independence Day, wha mek abee cyaan spen’ 1 millian pan garage?”“Maybe you have a point there, Cappo,” conceded Satiricus. “And at our flag raising, I thought the show was garbage, anyway!” “Leh abee drink to garbage!” said Cappo, as the two old friends clinked their beer bottles.