A Bounty of Blunders

Good evening my Curious Clienteles,

Has a person ever told you that they want to be a part of something larger than themselves? Then – hypocritically – turned their back as soon as you started stitching their arms to yours? Such experiences can make you feel bitter, but fret not my champions: you really are capable of more than you believe. And you don’t need someone else to validate you for it. Nor their appendages.

On this particularly fresh afternoon – cooler than we’ve seen in a long time – I was on my way to the lovely oak gazebo for my afternoon parlay with the ethereal phantoms that plague my dreams when something struck me. A brick. Directly in the small of my back. And not one of the enchanted ones we use to bludgeon each other at parties either.

“What tainted meat piles!” came to mind immediately. But I quickly suppressed the thought before I accidentally eviscerated the surrounding neighborhood. No, I couldn’t place where the brick had come from. So, with my back still aching, I made my way over to the lovely oak gazebo.

Such a magnificent gazebo I must say. Fine craftsmanship. The smell of the wood permeates the air around you. Along with some of the finest knife carvings of ascension homilies I have ever seen. That oaky aura just fills you with the finest-

And then another brick! Now you know me dearest reader, I would never hurt anyone. Unless that’s what they wanted.

This brick-broadsiding brat! Even the phantoms were antsy. After burning the requisite number of rose petals, I asked them if they had any indication as to the origin of the brick thrower. As my skin tinged and flared with their response, I once more surveyed the area. No sign of the perpetrator.

The phantoms had scorched me with an overturned dove with tentacles for wings, which we all know is the way of saying:

“My apologies good sir, but after dutiful deliberation, we were unable to answer your inquiry. We will endeavor to be of more help in the coming days. Peace be with you, my friend.”

More than slightly frazzled, I thanked my caped – and masked – crusaders. After the conventional harvesting of thirteen freckles, they returned to my inner consciousness, ready to force me awake in a cold sweat at any hour of the night. For what it’s worth my favored followers, I was at least looking forward to that.

Another blasted brick! This time squarely in the back of the head! I tell you, I nearly razed that gazebo to the ground! And yes, I know, it would have been such a rich and alluring smell. But as we always say at our Brunch & Blood: ascension homily carvings are not to be disturbed. Ever.

Distraught. Disgruntled. Damnation! Were they toying with me? Why did they want to upset me? Who would want to interrupt such a pleasant a refreshing afternoon?

Playing detective, I went back to the initial location where the first brick had caused my spine to grieve. Picking it from the ground, my mood went from irate to intrigued. Why, there are inner circle etchings on these! But, why throw them? Why not enchant them first and bludgeon me with them like we always do?

Over to the second brick. More etchings. And the third, more…

But wait! These aren’t mere kids attempting to cause minor solar coronas! They were the blood marks of friendship. And now they had my blood on them too. It was hard to clean up from the impact, but it seemed like destiny now.

A soft chuckle put me right at ease. With the delightful sound of an overgrown grove sprouting roots taller than you in mere seconds and a gentle gust of wind enriched with earthy flavors, the carvings on the gazebo rearranged into a toothy smile.

I always knew the gazebo was magnificent. But now, we were friends. Dearest reader, I was overjoyed.

So, let those fast and phony friends fly. After all, you can summon the remnants of the wings of Icarus to send you star bound if you wanted to anyway.

So too, never let first looks deceive you. The bricks that you are pelted with today might someday lay the foundation for a friendship you never thought possible. Even if you are mildly concussed.

In my case, I knew I was fortunate. The phantoms even came early to greet me during the harsh grip of my deepest sleep. They just had to hear all about it!

Better late than never; unless never is an acceptable option,



2 thoughts on “A Bounty of Blunders

  1. Pingback: Pink Potions and Pretty People | RICHARD BERKSHIRE

  2. Pingback: The Convergence of the Pain | RICHARD BERKSHIRE

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