There comes a time in one’s life when one has to take stock. To reflect. Jaguda was having one of those rare moments. A moment in which this bone headed tyrant thought to himself, “maybe I should just pack it all in and call it a day. Perhaps move into the deep country side and tend to sheep…”. The thought disgusted him. He immediately snapped out of his unwelcome reverie and returned to the task at hand. He was going to eat well today.

Some people might call his business shady but Jaguda took no small offence at such an undignified affront to his many years of hard labour in building what had now become a thriving conglomerate of like minded individuals. Maybe if the naysayers stopped to consider his very humble beginnings, they would reevaluate their snobbish and prejudiced view of this otherwise amiable fellow with a growing potbelly for a friend. “There are no saints in this world” was always Jaguda’s mantra. A steady excuse for the dark arts of his trade and an ever reliable sleeping pill for those troublesome nights where his conscience, for whatever reason, decided to rear its ugly head.

To be continued…