The Fisherman

The reef abounds with life. A shoal of light brown fish brush past her legs that are firmly grounded on the shallow translucent waters just appraoaching the reef. She is disturbed by their sudden alien appearance and even quicker dissappearance. She rushes out of the water to the familiar shores, the sunny beach; the soft sand, moist with waves that just crashed in.
A fisherman wants his catch of the day. A rod in hand he climbs the reef. She wants to be part of his day. Two children, malnourished and darkened by the harsh sun beating on their little bodies, play with thier little fishing nets. Their destiny is almost made. The younger of the two is quick to make friends with her. He proudly shows her his wares in a little polythene bag full of water. His treasures include a little sprat, green seaweed, sand and a coral rock. He is thrilled that she is impressed. He lifts up his hand to give her a closer look at the sprat, the hand movement makes her aware that his little bare torso is a thin layer of skin covering his rib cage. She can almost see his skeletal frame. A striking resemblance to the sprat.
She moves forward. She approaches their father, the fisherman. She wants to fish. He tells her the reef is full of little fish, lowest in the food chain, no doubt. It is difficult to spot the quick movements in the dark reef. His trained eye sees them way before she ever does. He catches one and shows her.
The little silver fish wriggles as he closes his fist around it. Its efforts to slip out of his hand is quite in vain as he drops the suffocating fish into his bag strung around his waist. The reef also abounds with death. She is saddnened by the sight.
He sees it in her eyes. Her body language betrays her unspoken words. He moves forward and away from her. Her chances of being part of his day, is crushed. She realises her folly. Its his life. Sympathy for a wriggling fish would only cause contempt in a fisherman. Her fascination lasting an hour is his daily routine. Its an effort to give his children a square meal and buy them a decent toy so that they wouldnt have to play with dead sea weed. Who is she to judge him?

Adventure anyone?

Boredom has set in. She needs to get out of her rut.
she needs independence, she needs adventure, she needs a fast car.
She needs to venture the Earth's crust or the Earth's highest pinnacle - of course as usual,
she craves the impossible!

Detachment from lemon meringue pie... a herculean task?

I crave for a slice of that tangy lemon meringue pie the Gallery Cafe serves. I can almost feel it melting in my mouth. I can almost feel the juicy lemon bursting on my tongue. It's my artificial heaven. I need it now. But if I dont get it now, I will still live. Of course I also know I wont get it now. Somehow, the knowledge of not getting it now, makes me want it more.
I just need to control my mind; the mind that craves for and clings to the need of lemon meringue pie. I shall contain it, I shall lay it to rest.
But the need for lemon meringue pie teases me like the thirst a person feels after a 2 mile run on a humid day.
sigh...
but what's great is it's merely lemon meringue pie - I will be just as happy with a chocolate muffin from deli France! If I can do it right, even a piece of stale butter cake would taste like lemon meringue pie - it's simply mind over matter!

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch

You're a mean one, Mr Grinch
You really are a heel
You’re as cuddly as a cactus
You're as charming as an eel
Mr. Grinch
You’re a bad banana with a greasy black peel
You're a monster Mr. Grinch
Your Hearts an empty hole
Your brain is full of spiders
You’ve got garlic in your soul Mr. Grinch
I wouldn’t touch you with a39 and a half Foot pole
You’re a vile one Mr. Grinch
You have termites in your smile
You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile
Mr. Grinch
Given the choice between the two of youI’d take the a seasick crocodile
You’re a foul one Mr. Grinch
You’re a nasty wasty skunk
Your heart is full of unwashed socks,
Your soul is full of gunkMr. Grinch
The 3 words that best describe you, are as follows, and I quote
Stink, Stank, Stonk
You’re a rotter Mr. Grinch
You’re the king of sinful sots
Your hearts a dead tomato splotched with moldy purple spots
Mr. Grinch
Your sole is an appalling dump heap
Overflowing with the most disgraceful
Assortment of deplorable rubbish
Imaginable, mangled up in tangled up knots
You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch
With a nauseous super naus
You’re a crooked jerky jockey and,you drive a crooked horse
Mr. Grinch
You’re a 3 Decker sour kraut and toad stool sandwich
With arsenic sauce!


Music Mel MarvinLyrics Timothy MasonBook Timothy MasonBased upon How The Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss

Here lieth flat...

One of the biggest reasons for fatalities in an ants world nowadays, is being 'sat on'; simply put in ant terminology; 'the sky falling on their heads'. This is of course apart from the more normal circumstances, where usually an ant would have had more to worry about when a 'not so early bird, misses its worm'.
Well, times have changed and it is evident that an ant has a tough agenda 'staying alive'. Staying alive therefore would obviously occupy top slot in its list of priorities.
When a heavy posterior looms large over the head of an ant minding its own business and foraging for crumbs on a park bench, does it freeze on its tracks and think to itself, "bugger, here adventeth a large butt - doom is nigh" ?
I think not; I think the ant will take to flight (quite like Spencer dictatated in his theory of 'survival of the fittest') and try to out run the fast enlargening shadow that darkened his world. He would want to run towards the light, quite by instinct. ( if he misses he would still be running towards 'the light'- quite a different light this time) After all, 'the fit surviving' also has much to do with 'fear - flight' as an ultimate tool in the secret to survival.
Of course, this would be the norm and accepted mode of survival, lest an ant should be met with a rearend, in an ant's 'guide to survival'. But what of an unassuming ant who gets caught quite unawares and falls prey to a random rump?
It no doubt would be a flattening experience.