The Philosopher stared into the sky and said, “If every woman were as she,” meaning the Evening, “We’d all rotate like tops.”
His entourage, all of his sisters, and many there were, scratched the earth with their toes and wondered aloud, “Does he mean me?”
The Philosopher hated words. They’re for sissies, he was fond of saying.
The women grouped around him and hissed, “But we’re your sissies!”
“So sing me a song. I can’t quite remember the words.”
The got into a bunch and sang clapping their hands:
If Humpty-Dumpty was small
He’d pull out his head and give vent
To the steam he keeps locked in his chest.
But alas, he’s grown so big,
We wish he’d invite us to tea,
He’s so masculine when he’s erect.
They giggled and ran around him in circles and wouldn’t stop. They made him dizzy so he fell down dead on the ground in a heap, and was seen asleep.
“What can we do now, O sisters?” they asked. A Philosopher dreams golden dreams, says a proverb. “Should we wake him? We’ll take him to the pond and see if he swims.”
And so they did.
They dragged him to the edge of the water, but only put his head in the water. “Let him drink!”
And so he did.
He drank and drank until the sun fell and the Evening came wrapped in a dark cloth. “My, my,” she said, “He’s drunk everything. What a little pig.”
The Evening had wanted to go for a swim with the Moon, but all the water was inside the Philosopher.
“See into a man and you’ll discover what he’s made of,” uttered the Philosopher.
The Evening took the hint. She opened the Philosopher’s mouth and climbed in. “He’s as big as a house.”
The sisters followed suit and went in after. “There’s room for all of us.”
“Is this how life was spawned?” asked the Philosopher.
The Evening led them all deeper. “We’ll find things of interest, maybe even Philosopher’s gold.”
The sisters whispered among themselves in excitement.
Soon they encountered a fish swimming around.
“Who are you?” the sisters asked.
“I’m the Fish of Creation. I’ve endured forever.”
The Evening wasn’t impressed.
The sisters wondered what sort of fish he was.
“I’m the fish of this man’s soul”. And swam off.
The Philosopher pondered the riddle: Is a smile everything in life?
Warrior, Felt, Undertaker, and other stories 