Archive for the ‘Parables’ Category

I Don’t Have the Time & What Can One Person Do?

Posted: March 29, 2011 by TheWild Webster in Fiction, Parables

Two men lived in the forest.  They both farmed, kept livestock and hunted the land.  They were neighbors.

One day the first man noticed that the wolves were getting closer to their steads so he went to the second man.  “Come neighbor, we must go on patrol to fend off the wolves that are coming closer to our doorsteps!”

“I’m sorry,” said the second.  “I do not have the time.  I must tend to my crops.”

So the first man set out alone but found there was not much one man could do.  Without help to chase the wolves he could only get one or two and did little to pose a deterrent to discourage them from staying in the area.

Instead he went home and dedicated his time to building up deterrents on his own property to at least scare the wolves from his own animals.  He suggested his neighbor do the same, but the neighbor just waved and pointed to his plow.  “Busy!” was all he could hear across the distance.

A few weeks later the first man noticed that the deer seemed to be dropping a large number of fawns.  He went to his neighbor again.  “Come friend, we must cull the deer herd.  I fear they may grow in number and threaten our crops!”

“I don’t have the time friend,” said the second.  “I already plannned to go hunting fowl to get myself meat.”

Again he set out alone but found the deer quickly grew spooky of him and that by himself he could only manage to bag a couple of animals.  He decided to head home and begin building fencing to go around his crops to keep the deer out.  He again suggested his neighbor do the same, but the neighbor was busy plucking and skinning his ducks.

A month or two passed and the first man noticed the beaver were building damns upon the river that ran through both of their property.  He again went to his fellow backwoodsman.

“I don’t have the time to go tear out beaver damns!  I need to smoke meat of the birds from my hunting!”

So one more time the man set out alone but found that by himself he could only do enough to remove a few damns before getting exhausted. So he focused on those damns closest to his own property.  He went home while some of his strength remained and began building up water walls around his own land just in case.  His neighbor was still busy in the smokehouse.

A few more weeks passed and the waters began to overflow the banks of the new beaver pond.  The torrents started to flood his neighbor’s farmland, completely destroying the crops and scattering all his animals.

The neighbor pulled out his meats and some bags of his grain and headed for high ground.  As he fled he noticed the wolves were killing his scattered livestock and tried to stop them before his entire herd perished.  But excited by their fresh kills the wolves set upon him as well.  The man was quickly overcome by the pack and had to leave his smoked meats to distract them, barely escaping with his own skin intact.

He returned to his bags of grain to find that while he was fighting the wolves, a herd of deer came by and tore open his sacks, eating them dry.

Once the wolves and the deer finally left him be, the second man went back to his destroyed homestead.  He looked across to his neighbor’s, who’s water wall was keeping his land dry.  He yelled across the new ‘moat’ created between his now-submerged land and his neighbor’s.

“Neighbor, I need your help!   My land is flooded by the waters diverted from the beaver damns.  My crops are destroyed and my animals run off and killed by a pack of wolves.  I tried to fight them off but had to leave them my meats to spare my own life.  While I was fighting the wolves the deer ate all my remaining grain.”

“Sorry, neighbor,” came the reply.  “I was too busy hunting wolves and deer, building my waterwall, erecting my fences and tearing out the damns on this end of the river.  So busy I didn’t fully tend to my own crops or finish curing and smoking my own meats.  I am afraid I must tend to that now, so I regret to inform you – I do not have the time!”


Bored to all Heaven

Posted: February 20, 2011 by TheWild Webster in Based on a true story, Fiction, Parables

God is bored up in heaven after many many eternities passing. He’s bored because he knows everything, sees everything, can do everything, knows how everything even he does is going to turn out – major boring!

So one day he decides to makes another version of himself so he can have someone to talk.  He even goes so far as convincing himself to pretend it’s not himself so he doesn’t think he’s gone completely nuts.

Eventually (after a few more eternities pass) God finds that even with another version of himself around to talk to, that they always seem to agree on everything, both always know what the other is going to say anyway, and generally don’t really have a lot to talk about that the other hasn’t heard already.

Noticing the ‘other God’ is upset, the second God asks what’s wrong.

God1: “I’m just bored again!”
God2: “Oh!”

After playing over 368,494,372,289,597 games of chess his other-self gets an idea and creates a universe and puts these little man things in it and starts to fuck with them just for something to do.

God2: “hey, look at this. I put them in this garden and I put this tree in there and told them it was ‘very bad’ to eat from it. But I didn’t give them the knowledge of good and bad. I put that into the fruit! And now I’m gonna go down there and pretend to be a snake to get them to eat the fruit so I can boot them out!”
God1: “Why in the hell did you do that? That’s just twisted! And what in the fuck is a snake?”
God2: “Why? Because it’s boring as shit up here and it was something to do! And what the hell do you mean by ‘what is a snake?’ You made it remember? I’m you! And you know everything!”
God1: “Oh crap, you’re right – er, I’m right. This is so confusing! Why do I ask such stupid questions sometimes? So why a snake?”
God2: “Well nobody likes snakes, and I’m going to need something to demonize later anyway.”
God1: “OK, this is going to sound like another stupid question, but how do you know nobody likes snakes if you – er – I just made it?”
God2: “I’m God! If I say nobody likes snakes, then nobody likes snakes!”

The next thing you know, the poor little human creatures are out on their own to fend for themselves.  After eating the fruit they get all the knowledge that before eluded them including shame and lust, jealousy and vengeance.  But God(s) is still bored.

God1: “Now what the hell are you up to?”
God2: “Hell?  You keep saying that – I like it.  I might have to do something with that soon.  As far as what I’m up to, these little human things are starting to breed like rabbits.  So now I am going to play some tricks with their offspring.”
God1: “How’s that?”
God2: “Well you see, this one son here has brought me some of the plants from his crops.  The other brought me one of his livestock.  I’m going to really rant and rave over how much I like the one gift and tell the other one to piss off.”
God1: “Won’t that make the other one kinda mad?  Ya know, now that you got their mom to eat the magic fruit and all?”

A few moments pass.

God2: “HOLY CRAP!  The one kid just killed the other kid!  Wow!  I never saw that one coming.  Oh wait, I’m God, I know everything.  I guess I did kinda see that one coming.  Oh well, I guess I better get to work on that Hell thing.  I’m gonna need something to do with this other kid now.”
God1: *just shakes head*  — “Hey, where did all these other humans come from by the way?  I thought you just had the two there in the garden and now suddenly they’re hanging out with lots of other humans and where did the kids find their wives anyway?”
God2: “Shhhhhhh!  I’m requiring them to pass all these stories down, and that one is gonna really fuck with some of their better scholars way down the road!”

Many years pass and the humans continued to breed like rabbits, and began to spread across the surface of the little meteor known now as earth.

God2: “Hey watch this one.  You think the whole fruit and all that other stuff was twisted?  I’m gonna go to this guy down here and tell him that if he loves me he has to kill his own kid.”
God1: “That’s just wrong!”
God2: “Hey, we’re God!  We decide what’s wrong and what isn’t.  Besides, I’m just doing it to see if he’s stupid enough to actually follow through and at the very last second I’m going to go ‘PSYCH!!!’

Many more years pass and God continues to screw around at the poor human’s expense for his own amusement.  But eventually the humans are starting to get out of hand.  He even tries wiping out large portions of them in almighty fits of fire and brimstone, leveling entire towns and populations, flooding the entire place, getting some of them swallowed by fish, but the humans continue to act out in all sorts of strange ways.

God1: “What’s with this guy down here?”
God2: “He calls himself Moses.  I made sure he got kicked out of respectable society after his mom basically abandoned him.  Get this, she just stuffs the poor schmuck in this basket and sets him adrift down the river.  Well, I saw to it that some of the aristocracy picked him up but then made sure he gets all these principles and shit and the next thing you know, he gets himself booted out.  I told him he has to wander around through the desert now until I decide he’s had enough.”
God1: “Oh for our sake.  Give the poor guy a break!”
God2: “Oh I will I will.  I’m gonna make some really weird crap happen to those pharoah guys and tell Moses about it before it happens.  Everyone will think he has a direct line to us.”
God1: “If you’re telling him all this stuff in advance, doesn’t he kinda have a direct line to us?”
God2: “Now you’re getting it!!!”
God1: “But … uh, why do all this then?”
God2:” Oh, he was bound to become yet another one of those crazy old hermits that hangs out on street corners yelling that the sky is falling and the end is near.  I was just curious to see what would happen if one of them actually was right for a change.”

So God(s) set down all sorts of plagues on Egypt and gives Moses a heads up so he can act all godly and shit in front of the pharoahs.

God1: “Ok ok, I’ve seen enough of this.  All those people down there are treated like crap and you’re getting far too much twisted amusement out of messing with the guys doing it.  I’m going step in here and make sure the this pharoah guy sets them all free and I’m going to let this Moses guy you you’ve been screwing with get all the credit.”
God2: “Party pooper.  OK, tell you what.  You can do that, but if you do, they have to go wander around the desert for years too.”
God1:  “Huh??  Why????”
God2: “It’s what we do!”

So God(s) finish the plagues and part the seas and the people are freed by Moses and follow him off into the wilderness to wander the desert for years.

God1: “Hey, check this out.  That moses guy you were messing with?  He got his people to settle down here in this valley, so I set up an intercom up on the mountain in a burning bush where I’ve been giving him words of encouragement to guide his people.”
God2: “What kinds of things have you been telling him?”
God1: “Oh just basic stuff on how to run his society.  Do you want to help?”
God2: “Oh do I!  I have some great ideas for rules that will completely screw with their head.  How’s about this one – if you bring me meat for sacrifice, throw a little salt on it.  And no more raw grains, I want it ground to flour first.  And oh oh oh oh!  I got a doozey!  Don’t let your cows hang out with other types of cows and don’t plant different crops in the same field!”  *starts to laugh at himself*
God1: “OK, fine but I’m going to do the top-10 ok?”
God2: “OH alright you lame-o.  Er, me lame-o, I keep forgetting we are the same guy.  But just confuse the crap out of them by using lots of ‘Thou shall nots’ and doinked up words like ‘covet’ and stuff like that.  Hey, what you going to use for the first one?”
God1: “Well they seem to keep erecting these statues of cows and other stuff instead of paying attention to what I’m telling Moses.  So I think I’m going to tell them to only obey what I say.”
God2:  “Oh you’re talking to all of them now?”
God1: “No, I told you, I’m talking to Moses.”
God2:  “Well how do you know Moses isn’t going to fuck it all up while he’s walking down from the mountain.  When I found him he was wandering the desert bound to be one of those crazy street corner guys remember?  And we had the whole lot of them wandering the desert for years.  He’s getting a tad senile now.”
God1: “OK, fine, I’ll cut the words into a rock so Moses can’t possibly screw them up.”
God2: “And what if the people don’t believe Moses and would rather keep throwing things at these cow statues?”
God1: “Did you ever finish that Hell thing you were working on?”
God2: “Ooooo, I like how you – er I – think.”

So many more years pass and the people continue to breed like rabbits and act up and worship cows and follow the rules given to moses and tell stories.

God2:  “What are you doing now?”
God1: “Well for some time I’ve been whispering in the ears of folks to create a buzz to let them know that if they continue to screw up all the rules I gave them that I was gonna come back down there.”
God2: “Yeah and?”
God1: “Well I’m gonna go back down there.”
God2: “But we’re ‘God’, we can’t just ‘go down there’ – we wouldn’t fit!”
God1: “I’m gonna create another version of me.”
God2:  “Another one?????”
God1: “Just a human one, but he’s gonna be able to do God-like shit, ya know?  To get their attention so they will listen to him – er me – er us.”
God2: “Listen to him about what?”
God1: “Well we gave them all these strict rules and as usual, your little guys screwed it all up.  They’ve been killing each other left and right over various interpretations of the rules or because they are worshiping cows or not worshiping cows, worshiping us or not worshiping us.  It’s all got out of hand.  I’m gonna go down there as one of them and tell them it’s all cool as long as they love one another.”
God2: “OH I gotta see this!”

So God went down there as one of them to spread a message of peace, love and unity.

God2: “How’s that whole peace, love and unity thing working out for you?”
God1: “They nailed me to a stick.”
God1: “Oh shut up!”
God1: “I said shut up!”
God2: *rolling around on the floor* “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HA HA   …. Ha” – *catching his breath*  “Oh, that is too good.   –   hey, by the way, I meant to ask you… how’d you get down there anyway?”
God1: “I had a woman give birth to me.”
God2:  “What?!??”
God1: “I found a really sweet virgin from a good family and I impregnated her.”
God2: “A virgin?!?!  And you knocked her up????  Oh the Catholics are gonna have a field day with that!!!  You think that cow worship was a problem??  You just wait till you see what they do with her!”
God1: “What’s a catholic?”
God2: “Just an idea I have, you’ll see!  And just how did that whole ‘peace, love’ message thing work out for you by the way?  Have they stopped killing each other yet?”
God1: “Don’t ask!”

(to be continued ???)

The S.S. Administration

The S.S. Administration

The old fisherman stood by the docks as the master of ceremonies broke the champagne bottle across the bow and the blocks were released to launch the new pride of the government fleet, the S.S. Administration!

It was heralded as a great feat in the achievements of man.  A ship of a revolutionary design that was to be completely powered by man himself!  The design was further revolutionary because the hydrofoil design left a huge hole all the way down the middle of the ship.

The government planners said that this was intentional.  The idea was to show the power of the combined force of human cooperation.  “Small ribs cut diagonally on both the outer and inner hull surfaces made the excess buoyancy of a solid craft completely unnecessary,” boasted a government planner.  “The engines of the ship are powered by a series of interconnected treadmills, stair-stepping machines and stationary bicycles in the fitness center on board.  We plan to promote good health while showing that this revolutionary design will not only be completely powered by the brute force of combined manpower, but the ribbed hull will channel the water around it so that very forward momentum will also keep it afloat!”

There was a mild applause from the gathered crowd, but the old sailor just took a puff off his pipe and shook his head before heading back to his small day cruiser.

“But that is not all,” said the spokesman proudly, “I have the pleasure of announcing a great new deal! Since the ship is run completely on ‘human power‘, anyone who agrees to power the ship from their port of origin to the next, can remain on board and enjoy all the comforts of the remainder of the ship at their leisure until the next port of call for no charge what-so-ever!!”

The crowd cheered!  Many of the people in attendance had never been on board a luxury liner – they had never even considered it.  And the thought of doing so for free thrilled them, even if they did have to ride a treadmill or pedal a bike for the first leg of the trip.

The news of the ship’s launch had spread far and wide.  Many people from the crowd at the first launching lined up to volunteer for the free trip.  A couple hundred people were led on board and the ship went under way.  By the next port of call the word had spread across the telegraph wires of the free offer and many hundreds more were waiting to take the places of the first volunteers so they could go relax on the main deck.

At each port of call the numbers grew little by little.  At the third port the passengers from the first got off and were replaced by even more than had been picked up at the second and so on as the day went along.  And it continued until close to dark until the regimen of the ‘manpower’ numbered well above 1800 and the passengers from the previous leg numbered 1500.

The added weight of passengers and their luggage added to the requirement to keep the ship ‘buoyant’ by maintaining a reasonable speed, but the added manpower more than compensated.  The day’s trip had been a full circle and they had but one more leg to go before returning to the home port.  The captain pulled into the especially designed cradle birth that kept the loaded ship afloat when not under speed and settled in to pick up his last group of passengers for the evening.

“How many at this port?” asked the captain.

“It looks like just 600 this time,” said a crewmen.  “it is getting late, that is to be expected.  Especially since these have to wait until tomorrow for their pleasure cruise.”

The captain nodded and waited until the ship was fully unloaded and reloaded before getting under way.  As he pulled out of port, he quickly found that with the 1800 ‘passengers’ and only 600 human ‘motors’, it was no longer possible to maintain buoyancy of the ship as he started to head out to deeper water.

He made a quick announcment that additional volunteers would be necessary to help keep the ship at speed.  A couple hundred of the young men gladly volunteered with the understanding they would get an additional ticket for the following day.

But the captain quickly found that this too was not enough and the ship was still sinking ever deeper.  He put out another call for volunteers and another hundred came forward, but that too came up short.  There were still 1500 people up top and only 900 working below.

The captain had to think fast. He put out an order that any under the age of 30 ‘had’ to go help work.  Murmurs started to go through the crowd as only a few people stepped forward, most of the young had already volunteered.  The age was raised to 35 and a few more came forward then again to 40.  There were about 150 new conscripts and they were put to work propelling the ship.

There were now 1050 below and 1350 above but by this time, the extra demands on the first 600 under the added strain started to take it’s toll and they were running out of strength to go on.

The captain got desperate and raised his requirement to 50 years of age, then 55, then 60.  More than 3/4ths of the entire regimen of people on board were now on the treadmills, bicycles and stair climbers but the 1800 were already well tired and the 600 newcomers were made tired early on from the extra strain of their initial workload.  Soon everyone on board, including some of the crew, was set to work as the captain screamed out pleas mixed with demands to “Work harder, work harder!”

They were barely able to maintain speed and the speed was decreasing but the port was coming in site.  The captain screamed louder but it seemed to be no use.  The ship was sinking ever lower, and the added drag made it go still slower, increasing the work on all the passengers and wearing them out even further.

“Dammit,” cried the captain, “this ship is a miracle of man power – I will not be responsible for it’s sinking, everyone MUST work harder so we can complete our day’s journey!”

Just then he heard a voice shouting from the ship’s starboard side.  It was the old fisherman on his way back to port.

“I knew she wouldn’t be able to stay afloat mat-ee!  I’d suggest ya tell all yer passengers to grab on fast to anythang that floats and take tharr chances on swimmin’ ta shore!” he said in his thick sailor’s brogue.

“No, damn you!” cried the captain, “I will not be the one responsible for letting this ship sink! I’ll never work as a captain again!”

“Y’a will ne’er be a cap’n again if ya should drown tither laddy!  Consider one thang fine sir….
It twas a plain fool that designed a ship as thus,
it tis be a fool that climbs on board ‘er too!
And I’ll grant ya, tis be a fool cap’n who cain’t see she’s not a’seaworthy and let’s the lot of em on board…,”

He paused to puff his pipe.

“But it tis a far greater fool who doesn’t save the lot of em when it’s so obvious she’s a’goin down!  It t’would be a scads worse crime to not give yer wayfarers a chance to get off than t’would be to let the ship sink without em!”

SWWood Scott Webster Wood
TheWild Webster
Thoughts from the Wild
The ObjectOpus
Things You Ought to Know

Once upon a time, a missionary set forth into the jungle.  Hearing the tales of other heroic explorers, he had in mind to find a group of primitive tribesmen and to ‘civilize them’.  After venturing with his guides and a few scouts, they came upon such a tribe deep in the plush jungle highlands.

He observed the tribesmen for a few days before deciding where to begin.  More so than anything else, he was repulsed by the manner in which they ate.  Cooking food over a crude fire, the aboriginal men would eat with their fingers off of pieces of bark or leaves.  So he decided to teach them table manners.

Gathering some members of the tribe, he had one of his servants bring him one of his finest plates and some silverware.  He called over one of the scouts to interpret for him and offered the dish to the natives that were eating off of the leaves and bark and made hand motions to the plate then his mouth.

Offering 'civility' to the primatives

Offering 'civility' to the primatives

The natives moved back at sight of the colorful plate and looked confused at the gestures he was making.  The missionary asked his interpreter to tell them that he wished them to take the plate as a gift and to eat from it.

The interpreter spoke to them in their language of grunts and utterances. The old native spoke back to him and he translated.  “They are leery of the things the white man brings them.  He explained to me that this thing is of many colors like the poisonous frogs, and the colors are in patterns similar to the backs of the venomous snakes and it’s skin gleans like the sides of the ‘nibble fish’.  I think he means the piranha.”

“Explain to them that the colors are simply painted on by men,” he looked across their decorated faces.  “Like the colors they paint on their skin and their totems.  The patterns are chosen by men.  Chosen from sources like the backs of their snakes because we find them attractive.  And the shine is simply a polish like …”  He looked about their belongings when he noticed one man with an obsidian pointed spear. “Like the polish on the tips of their spears when they sharpen them!”

The missionary was quite proud of his thoughts and asked the interpreter to explain it to the natives. He did so, and many of them nodded or gestured in understanding but none got any closer to the plate.  Upon finishing, the old shaman spoke a few more words and the interpreter again explained.

“They understand now of the colors, patterns and the shimmer of the surface, but they still wish to know of what it is made.  They have never seen such a thing before.”

The missionary was somewhat put aback.  “Why tell them it is a dinner plate!” he said consternatiously.

“That might be a problem,” said the interpreter.  “That is why they pull back, they don’t know what it is.  They have no word for ‘plate’ or ‘dish’, for as you can see, they eat off of the bark of trees and the leaves of the plants.  They have been wary of us newcomers, and they consider their bodies as sacred like the jungles.  They will not eat off your plate unless they know what it is.”

The missionary thought a moment, but he was a ‘civilized’ man and knew very little of plates and dishes.  They were simply things that were to be eaten from.  He asked among his men if any had ever worked in an industry that involved making such things and found one conquistador who’s father had been a potter.

“Why yes,” said the young man.  “I can tell you what it is.  It is a piece of ceramic dish baked in an oven.  Tell them that it is made from clay.”

Looking to the interpreter, the missionary asked him to translate.  But the interpreter just shook his head.

“Look around you fine sir,” said the interpreter.  “Do you see any clay about?  This land is a rich jungle.  The earth here is many feet deep of rich, fertile peat soil.  The river is bottomed with a similar layer of black mud.  These men have all they need here to survive and thus seldom venture beyond the nearby hills.  They know not of the concept ‘clay’ and have no word for it that I can speak to them either.”

The missionary thought a moment and considered, “Well, can’t you describe it as to the mud of the rivers then?  Baked until hard and then used to eat off of?”

The interpreter shook his head.  “I can try, but it may not be that simple.”

He spoke in the tongue of the men and did his best to relate the missionary’s desires.  As he gestured toward the mud along the shores of the river, the elder tribesmen became repulsed. He then gestured toward the fire and knocked on a nearby log, but when he gestured with the motion of eating, many of the younger tribesmen burst out in laughter.

One of the elder tribesmen spoke back to the interpreter making gestures to the entire jungle, and then again to the mud of the river before drawing his hand below his nose to sniff with a similar look of disgust.  Then he gestured as if to throw whatever he sniffed to the ground, touched his mouth and shook his head while waving his hands.  More of the young men laughed.

“What did he say?” implored the missionary.

The translator explained, “They believe the forest is a living being not unlike the man or the leopard.  He told me that they see the river as…. well, a means of digestion of the ‘food’ the forest eats.  They see the mud of the river as – pardon my saying sir – but the feces of the forest as it is similar in texture, color and smell.  To be fair, it is not an unreasonable comparison.  Needless to say, they are not encouraged by the thought of eating off of… well, the closest way to translate it is ‘the poop of the river’.”

The missionary was quite frustrated indeed.  He needed to find some way to explain to these primitive men that the plate was harmless and was a better thing off which to eat their food than mere bark or leaves.  If he could not get them to do something as simple as eat off of dishes in a respectable manner, how could he ever hope to civilize them proper?  Again he turned to his men.  He asked them if any knew of how to explain the concept ‘clay’ to such simple minded people.

One young man stood up, “I think I can offer a suggestion, sir.  I worked as a miner north of Gibraltar before enlisting in his lordship’s service.  Clays are made from the minerals mined from the earth.  Things like limestone, shale, siltsone and sandstone.  Any sedimentary deposits, properly weathered can become a consistency of clay.  It results when the material is ground into a fine dust and the dust is made wet.”



The missionary turned to the  interpreter and the interpreter then to the tribesmen.  He went on at length making gestures toward the landscape, gestures of grinding, splashing a small  handful of water from a nearby pool.  Finally he stooped to pick up a large stone and spoke a few more words and the faces of the tribesmen lit up.

TUN!” many of them spoke in unison.

The interpreter looked at them for a moment confused but then enthusiastic, he repeated nodding with excitement, “Ban … ban taka… TUN!  TUN!!!

The native men then all came around to take the plate and each in turn touched and examined it, some tapping at it or bending to look at the patterns.  The missionary was quite impressed and the interpreter looked prideful but mentally exhausted.

After a short pause, the missionary could stand it no longer.  “What was it?  What did you say to make them take it?”

“It wasn’t quite what I said,” said the interpreter.  “I tried to explain that the clay used to make the plate was of the earth itself, and it was ground to fine dust, and mixed with water.  It wasn’t until I stooped to pick up that boulder that they came to it on their own.”

Tun?” asked the missionary.  “Is that what they call it?  What does it mean?”

“In essence,” laughed the interpreter, “I told them that your ‘plate’…. is a ‘rock‘!”

Author’s Note: It’s just a silly little allegorical parable to demonstrate the basic concepts of identification, reduction, concepts vs. precepts, context and even contextual emotions.  For more information, check out my explanation of why I wrote it on my blog:

TheWildWebster – Identification, Reduction, Integration

SWWood Scott Webster Wood
TheWild Webster
Thoughts from the Wild
The ObjectOpus
Things You Ought to Know

Hit The Sidewalk

Posted: October 2, 2010 by narcher007 in Fiction, Parables
Tags: , , ,

The cold sidewalk crept along the street, upholding the feet of busy bodies.  The sidewalk didn’t mind; at first the sidewalk was new and everybody enjoyed it greatly.  The users worked for a living  and upkeep happened every week.  The street cleaner swept the autumn leaves away every day.

Soon the shoes started to squeak and moan with every step.  The leaves started to accumulate in piles, the street sweeper didn’t come around as often.  One day, the sidewalk felt a gooey wetness but the sun shone strong.  Slowly, the sidewalk realized somebody’s spit now adorned the surface of the pavement.

Shambles!  The sidewalk yearned to only be spit upon, but now, covered in discarded gum, litter, cracks, and even the occasional homeless person, the sidewalk’s pride sunk to a new low.  The once pristine sidewalk that served the productive members of society now served the rabble.  The heat and feet took too big a toll, and soon the sidewalk started to crumble.

After receiving several complaints from people who paid no taxes, the government came and started to hit the sidewalk with hammers.  After completely obliterating the sidewalk, the government laid down new pavement for the homeless, the looters and leechers.  As the old sidewalk died, no tears were shed, no glasses were raised in honor of the years of service rendered.

The sidewalk crept along in a dump truck, unable to hold its shape.

© 2010 Nate Phillipps