My New Friend October 13, 2005
Hello, how are you? I hope you are well today.
I wish I was some sort of tribal Chieftain. The sort that wears big feather hats and dances naked around fires singing to the god of rain or fire or plastics or chicken teryaki. It would make for interesting conversation down the pub of an evening.
“So, Chieftain”, the others would begin as I and my chums gather around the bar to sup upon finest ales, “how’s life treating you?”. To this I would reply, “Very well, I thank you. I spend my days mostly naked whilst dancing round a fire singing songs of yore and telling tales so tall they would make the sky seem close. As the sun nears the horizon, I retire to my teepee, or wigwam if you will - in reality, my fourth floor flat, but lets skip the technicalities - to smoke upon the pipe of truth and to mull over the lessons that the days dancing (naked or otherwise) has laid upon me.”
These simple utterances from the mouth of one who is held in such high regard are like rays of golden sunlight upon the face of a sleeping monkey. The pleasure which is emparted unto those who listen is something fine indeed. Like vintage Merlot, or the smell of cut grass on a warm Summer’s eve, the words fill the minds of those held captivated by the Chieftain’s tales and cause joy to blossom where before there was only a vague sense of longing.
Alas, I am not a strongly worded Chieftain. I am but a mild-mannered creature who toils by day and at night can be found loitering inside the local drinking establishment, shouting coarse words at any who fall within earshot and angering the patrons whenever a feather falls from my crudely fashioned Indian head-dress into their fiercley guarded pints.
