ADAM was 30 and unemployed. He had dropped out of school in Second Form (Grade Eight) because he could not cope with the work nor was he so inclined. As a matter of fact, he could not cope with work at the level of Grade Three. He lived all his life with his parents. After many attempts to encourage him to find a job in the large city of Cross Convent or the neighbouring villages, they gave up in exasperation.

Not wanting to allow him to become a bum, they asked him how they could help him to start a small business. He jumped at the offer and asked them to purchase a music set. They agreed, not realising the kind of problems they were taking on. A cheque was written and Adam went out to purchase the set.
When the young man returned and began off-loading the equipment both his elderly parents groaned to themselves. There were several speakers of various sizes as well as the deck, mixer and mic system.

Adam was happy. He worked all day and finally had it all set up. Then he played his first tune. The neighbourhood he was living in was a noisy and rowdy place, but even they had never heard such noise. People rushed from their houses thinking that a natural disaster was about to occur. His first session lasted two hours. By the time he was finished his parents were both half deaf and were reeling from threats issued by irate neighbours and friends. There were warnings of serious action and even bodily harm if the commotion did not cease. The two old parents racked their brains for a solution. With no other solution readily coming to mind, they decided to relocate Adam.

They owned a small property in the Oceanside community of Sandy Shore. Mr Caesar’s father had died a year earlier and left the property to his son. He decided to give it to Adam. The young man reluctantly agreed. Two weeks later he arrived at his new home.
As soon as he had unpacked, he assembled the music set. The small village he was living in was a direct contrast to the city from where he came. It was a quiet, laid-back community where everybody knew everybody, and treated each other with respect. Adam soon tore that asunder.

That evening he plugged in the set and began his usual stunt.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
The enormity of the sound sent lazy birds and animals into a frenzy. Birds flew far, far away, abandoning their nests. Many animals too fled the village. Cats, dogs, sheep, goats, cows and donkeys suffered unspeakable torment and barked, bleated and brayed in protest.

The once peaceful community went into serious sonic shock.
A delegation came knocking on his door. They asked that he respect their village and stop the racket. He chased them away and paid no attention to their complaints, pleas and appeals. Old Mother Gardener shuffled slowly up to his door. Tapping loudly with her walking stick, she waited for the man to appear. Adam flung the door open and glared angrily at the old woman.

“What you want?” he shouted.
He was not shouting intentionally but was acting out of necessity. It was the only way she could hear what he was saying over the din he was producing.
“Turn off that damn noise!” Her voice quivered in anger.
He threw his head back and laughed in her face.
“Yo better catch you house before yo fall down in de dark!”
“Stop dis or I gon fix you!” Her eyes examined him coldly.
“Bun out granny fit!”

Adam slammed the door in her face and returned to his DJ activities. Many people buried their throbbing heads beneath their pillows and prayed for a miracle
Mrs. Gardener went to her room, lit a candle and two sticks of incense and began a slow chant. As she increased her tempo the flame on the candle danced to the same beat. When she hit a crescendo it went out. A cold breeze whipped through the room and out of her open front door.

Knock!
Knock!
Adam was becoming more and more annoyed by what he decided was a blatant disrespect for his privacy. He stormed to the door and threw it open. There was another delegation there. These were dressed a lot weirder than the first.
“Wat de hell you want?” he demanded rudely.

A young man addressed Adam. He was about six feet tall and built like a Sherman Tank.
“I name Bam Bam. Dis is me crew!”
“Who cares?!”
Adam pushed the door closed, but it flew open violently. It now hung from only one hinge.
“Who de hell bruk me door?” he screamed in rage.
“Not only yo door gon bruk tonight! Yo disturb everybody in dis village. Yo even wake we till down in de cemetery!”

The youth stood looking at them with his mouth and eyes wide with shock. Then he went into aggressive mode.
“Look Bam Bam or whatever yo call yo self, tek yo motley crew and leave!”
“Yo know why dey does call me Bam Bam?”
The voice was low but held an ominous warning.
“Why?”

Bam! Bam!
Adam was flat on his back. Both his eyes were swelling swiftly and he was seeing movement in galaxies uncharted.
Crack!
Pow!
Bang!
Wap!
By now he was rolling all over the floor bawling. Blows rained down on him in a merciless torrent.
Crash!
Smash!
Bram!

His precious music set was smashed beyond recognition. He managed to escape the house and ran to the yard of his nearest neighbour, Mother Gardener. The thrashing continued.
Pow!
Ply!
Wax!
“Help! Neighbour Help!”
Doors remained closed but drapes had subtle cracks in them.
“Ow! Sarry Mr Bam Bam! Ah gon stop!”

“Yo better. De next time we come back hey we gon walk wid a friend called Bruk Neck!”
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
They were all laughing as they made a menacing circle around him.
Adam’s knees collapsed and he passed out.