Monday, November 12, 2007

I was one of them, I was and I stand by that.

I was one of them, I was and I stand by that. But they left me here, and so here I have remained. Now you are here; what should I name you? Seeker? Lost One? Fool? Ask of me what you will, and I will endeavor to answer.

I’m sorry sir; I don’t know what to say. You see, I’m from the lumber company, and we happen to have purchased this little strip of jungle and, well we had no idea you were here! Now, it’s come to my attention that you stubbornly refuse to move. But the trees must be cut! And so we must beg you to move! Please, sir, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.

Don’t you see! My legs have become part of this humble stone, my hands have not felt the rush of blood since before you father’s father was born, I feed off only those insects who wander down my throat, and you suppose I can just get up and go! Why not just harvest me along with the wood? My body will burn just as well.

Sir! That would be murder! The firm I represent doesn’t tolerate such accusations! We humbly request that you, well, up root yourself I guess.

And if I refuse?

Well, perhaps we’ll cut down every tree around you. Watch out when they fall though! Is that what you’d like: if a whole city grew up around you and everybody just left you alone? You’d probably love it, so many “seekers” with whom to speak.

And you think I fear obscurity, after the life I have lived?

No, I think you fear society, human company!

No, I fear only night, and hence my simple purchase.

Is that some kind of allegory or something? I don’t understand.

Let me tell you a story: once upon a time there was a man, who, tired of having the sun in his face all day, held up his hand so as to block the light; and he was so absorbed in this that he fell down a well.

So the shadow from the hand is night, or the darkness in the well? And you sit here in order to avoid potholes?

No! The story is not yet finished: The man was lying at the bottom of the well on his back when his hand, empowered by the sun, began to leap about, like this! Like a fish flopping out of water! And do you know what his hand did then?

What?

He got a job, got married, invested in the stock market, had kids, the usual story.

Are you crazy?

Oh-no! Not me, it was the other hand that was crazy! Crazy from jealously. You see, this other hand: the fall down the well left it permanently disabled, ironically because it was kept out of the sun and left in the pocket!

OK, old man, so you’re gonna move or what?

And so the jealous hand murdered the successful, enlightened hand. But he didn’t stop there; he murdered his children and his wife as well! Finally, ashamed of his crime, he chopped himself off. And you know what?

What?

Just think how the penis felt!

1 comment:

radialrelish said...

It's a masturbation joke.