St. Soothy Squirrels

At some sort of meeting or other a speaker proclaimed,
“A life well spent would be reflected in the fact that once deceased
one would no longer ‘trouble the living.’”
And a woman in back thought,
“Very well, but then that opens up the implication that
history leads a scandalous existence.”

 

“…and in conclusion may I say” – (and he did),
“A man who would read while on a voyage
should either not take a book along,
or else not sail…or, of course,
he could also ignore my comments.”

 

One guy who admits that some of his family “worries about him”
told me that almost every night, just before he falls asleep his brain,
quite distinctly, thank you, says to him, “Is it safe to come out now?”

 

When others disagreed and wanted to argue with him,
this one guy would try to walk away by saying, at least to himself, that,
“It’s not worth it.” (He did this for such a length of time
that it became as though it were so.)

 

On that attractive orange planet just over there, on their beautiful resort island of St. Soothy,
tourism was being severely damaged by the irrepressible presence of rats. The continuing complaint was always the same, “Rats, rats and more rats!” they said, and then a local had a minor mental downpour and solved the problem of the rats from stem to stern – he renamed the little critters, “St. Soothy Squirrels,”
and now all goes well.
(By the by, in your daily naming and renaming process, how goes it with you?)

J.

 

 

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