Mister Landlord was aware of the brouhaha going on in his compound but had refused to reprimand anyone, instead he sat on his favourite spot at the front of the yard and sucked profusely a sachet of Chelsea liqueur. Everyday had one fight or two. Squabbles and troubles among the humans that paid him rents. Every morning was pregnant with gossip and it must involve no other than Aunty Caro.

Aunty Caro had a bitter spirit that stems from her soul, rapidly influencing everyone in the yard even her funny teenage son nicknamed Cabin Biscuit. On one of such kerfuffles, Cabin Biscuit blurted close to his home. ‘Another quarrel today? I know say she must follow. What kind of a mother is this?’

Inside the yard, everybody was....
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