Monday, November 27, 2006
Toilet musings 1
And it's actually quite funny as I think during late night TV time, who would be the one lying on the other's shoulder crying softly at the arthouse flick and who would be the one who rolls their eyes and wants to switch to soccer. Wow. My life is so weird. Ah well.
Here's something i came up with in the toilet. All of the work, and the following idea are solely the property of Paul Victor,2006. Thank you. Enjoy!
They call me the teller. Of course, in your world, it would make you think of, most probably, a bank teller. One of those yuppies who act like they’re so highly paid, who wear their branded suits which so much pride and say, they work in “finances”. And yet, who sit, oblivious, behind a counter and a sign which says, “Hi, I’m Donald, happy to serve you.” Oh, How I hate their remarks, and that look they give me when I say I would like to deposit twenty five dollars. Give a working man some credit! It’s an honest amount. Well, so anyway, they call me the teller. The Teller of Tales. Did it create more of an effect, the capitalizing? I thought it would. Time and again, I ask myself why those bumpkins couldn’t have made it more, well, adventurous. Like, The Druid. Or the Oracle. Yes, the Oracle. No one messes with the oracle. The great Grand High all knowing Oracle. Yet, I guess, my role in this tale is far from grand or of great import. You see, I saw the world, that world, not the one you are sitting in, in your cozy armchairs, reading my ramblings with bad lighting on, that world, which I so briefly visited, through the eyes of a tea kettle.
Let us get one thing straight here, this is not your everyday, run of the mill fairy story where tea kettles talk(though I did) and wizards have long flowy beards(The one in my story had one, but that was by pure coincidence) and where unicorns play all day with pixies and forest nymphs. Unicorns, my friend, contrary to popular young female belief, are enormously stupid creatures. Their horns, for example, are an evolutionary wonder that enables them to stop walking into trees. Pixies are sly little buggers that would try to sell you leprechaun gold(which vanishes at the in the moonlight)at a profit. And forest nymphs can hardly be mentioned on the off chance this book in misplaced in the children’s section of the library. Let me just say I tend to whistle whenever I see one.
By now you will probably either be so captivated as to carry on reading, or be thinking that I’m some kind of crackpot(no pun intended). Well, to the latter, let me allow you the promise that the forest nymphs, or one at least, is an integral part of the main plot. And to the ladies, a dashing young hero is also in presence, alongside a Bard who singeth songs of romance and gaiety. Did I mention the bard always wore a tunic so that you could always see his washboard stomach? Got your attention? Good. Let’s move on.
There.Hopefully the start of an epic fantasy of magic, romance and...humour.Well.
