Ali Bacher and the Forty Thieves.
Al Adams was sitting behind a rock in a park, overlooking a few large mansions in the northern suburbs. He was unemployed and just loafing around in the park, wondering where he was going to get money for his next meal. He was in dire straits, financially.
As he lay there pondering his predicament, he heard the roar of several motor-vehicles approaching. It was a long black Mercedes, followed by several white Citi Golfs. They pulled up in the drive way of Ali Bacher’s mansion, and Ali himself got out of the black Mercedes. His gang, called The Forty Thieves, got out of the Citi Golfs. (They were all players and officials of the cricketing fraternity in South Africa.)
Al Adams watched them from behind the rock, as they approached the large oak doors of the mansion. Then Ali Bacher spread out his arms and called out the magic password. “Open Sesame!” shouted Ali Bacher, and the security system of the mansion cut out, and the large oak doors opened wide.
Ali Bacher’s gang where carrying a few bags of loot from their latest match-fixing operation, and they carried these bags into the mansion. There was Hansie ‘Vat n Kansie’ Cronje, Herschelle ‘The Hitman’ Gibbs, Nicki Boje, and all the other thugs and cut-throats that made out The Forty Thieves. They stashed their loot, and left again. Once outside, Ali Bacher raised his hands again and shouted “Close Sesame!”, and the large double oaken doors closed with a loud thud.
“Fiddle Fi,
Fiddle Fum,
And bottle full of rum!!!
Ha-Ha-Ha!!!” sang Ali Bacher and the Forty Thieves, as they climbed back into their cars and drove off. The black Mercedes rode in front, and the Forty Thieves followed in their white Citi Golfs.
Al Adams waited until they were gone, and everything about the mansion had gone quite again, save for the song of the birds in the trees. Then he got out from behind his hiding place, and walked up to the large oak doors of the mansion.
He raised his arms and shouted, “Open Sesame!” And at first nothing happened, but then slowly, miraculously, the doors opened. Al stepped inside after climbing the large winding stairs, and then he saw the heaps of riches, jewels and gold that the gang had accumulated over the years with their match-fixing operations.
But what caught Al’s eye, was a beautiful golden oil lamp, which stood aside on a golden pedestal. He stepped over, and picked up the lamp. He shook it a bit, half in hope to hear something inside, and half, for the hell of it. Then he examined it closely. He saw instructions written underneath that said ‘Rub Me the Right Way.”
Al was quite sharp, so he rubbed the lamp with a right-hand circular motion, and suddenly, with a mighty roar and a puff of smoke, a genie appeared. The genie looked like Elvis Presley, and he shouted “Hey, I’m all a-shook up!!!”
“Sorry about that,” apologised Al Adams.
“That’s o.k.,” said the genie “Anyway, I am the genie of the lamp, and your wish is my command, therefore I grant you three wishes, etcetera, etcetera…”
So Al wished firstly that Ali Bacher and his gang would get caught and locked up, so that they wouldn’t bother him again. This happened as soon as he wished it. Then he wished to be a famous and wealthy writer, so that he would never have to work again. Again his wish was granted, and he became a wealthy successful writer overnight.
Lastly he wished for peace of earth, and instantly all the violence and hostility across the globe ceased. For Al, the world was now a perfect place.
Not so for Ali Bacher and the Forty Thieves. They were sitting in C-Max prison, because information had come the government’s attention, that they were all actually part of the Boere-Mag.
They sat and rotted their remaining days in prison, where they belonged. And Al Adams lived the life of royalty on the French Riviera.
The End.
Copyright – JP Brown – 25/04/2007.
