I know about pretend in order to frighten someone. Keith and Jenny once used that tactic to scare Uncle Compton. You see, Uncle Compton loved to frighten other people. One evening, when everybody was sitting on the stairs talking about old times, out of nowhere suddenly, there was chaos.

“Whooooooaaah!”
The horrible sound was coming from the dark backyard. Everybody scattered screaming for ‘Jumbie’. It was only when he started to laugh uncontrollably that everyone realised that Compton was up to his usual pranks.
Well, Jenny and Keith decided to get some revenge. They hid in the back of the school yard late one night knowing that Compton must cross that yard and make his way into his own yard. They were both armed with white sheets and had practiced weird frightening noises all day. Late that night Compton came sauntering into the yard. He had a few beers under his belt but was far from drunk. As he headed for the house, two white objects floated toward him from the back of the yard.
“Yeeooow!”
“Bhoooooaah!”

Compton dropped the grocery, his transistor radio and his shoes and sped away bawling like a child. He forgot home and exited the front via a high jump over the locked front gate. He disappeared down the dark street waking the neighbourhood as he went.
I once heard about pretend Baccoo, just to get revenge on a nosy neighbour. This was a classic. Neighbour Beryl was a gossip. She was always minding other people’s business. Once she snitched on Balram when the boy stole a chicken to make a bush cook with his friends. His father rained fire on his butt with a whip cut from a tamarind tree. Ever since then poor Beryl had problems with Baccoo. A few broken windows, bricks on her roof at night, garbage spilled all over the front of her yard and even hit her as well; these were some of the trials she faced. She never saw anyone and came to the conclusion that the neighbourhood was being attacked by a baccoo. She spread this gossip thickly. This saved Balram because no one really looked into the source of her distress.

A man once tried to pretend to be Old Higue. That was a big mistake. He ended up with second-degree burns to a large portion of his body.
But in all my life I have never heard of anything about pretend Moon Gazer. As far as I am concerned that would be the most stupid, totally dotish thing anybody would attempt.
But what is stupid for everybody else made plenty of sense to Markie. Markie is a specialist. He specialises in doing absolutely nothing and being good at just that. He was an average student in school and never bothered to further his education after departing high school. As a matter of fact, he was eager for the days of school to end. Both his parents worked at the senior executive level so money was no problem. He made little effort to find a job. When his parents found jobs for him he would work until the first or second payday then quit. He became an alcoholic and wasted his life away.

This is how Markie got himself into a pickle. Late Friday night after a long drinking session he decided to go home. He staggered this way and that, nearly doubling the distance it normally takes him to reach home.
Some nights in similar states of inebriation, he made it home. Other nights he made do with wherever he laid his drunken head. Early mornings would often find him sleeping it off in the most unusual places; the cemetery, trench corner, road corner, under people’s bridge and even halfway up a ‘plimpla’ (thorn) tree. One of his most memorable feats was when he was found hanging by both armpits on neighbour Beryl’s clotheslines. That time he made the news. The paper’s headline read “Markie’s Hangout”. The picture in the papers showed him sound asleep and drooling.

On that memorable night, Markie wobbled and stumbled trying to stay on the shifting road. It was a full moon night and the street was shimmering in silver splendor. Shadows came to life and nocturnal creatures were in their true element. Markie negotiated the corner near the Silk Cotton Tree and walked right into trouble.
Like a Titan of long long ago, a gigantic creature was standing there. Its gaze was fixed on the moon and its legs straddled the road. A large cow walked leisurely home. It passed between the feet of the monster.

“Crunch!”
The cow became instant cow paste as the legs of the giant came together like continental plates.
Markie was too drunk to attempt an escape. He decided to be creative. With the aid of fear and doltishness, his solution to the problem was to pretend to be a moon gazer. The truth was that his body froze in terror so he had little choice in the matter.
The terror-stricken drunk knew that his only chance of survival lay in being patient. He must wait until the moon goes down or a cloud cover the moonlight before making his move. Unfortunately for him, it was a night of few clouds so there was still a lot of time to kill. Markie stood shakily still. He looked like a miniature Moon Gazer under the influence. He gazed upwards and his heart sank. There was not a cloud to be seen. This was when Markie was sure that he might not make it home tonight.
He wished that he could be pretend Dry Bones. At least someone would rescue him and take him home with them.
“Hick!”
“Burp!”
Sway!
Blam!
Markie fell flat on his face. He took instant knock-out, and guess what happened next?
Well, that is another story. He! He! He! He!