Wednesday, January 31, 2007

A Chance Encounter

"Oh, hello there Henry. What's that you've got in your hand, my friend?" A considerable amount of time had passed since Harold last had the good fortune of meeting Henry in the park. On any other day, they might have exchanged pleasantries or made a joke about how both of their names began with the same consonant. Befittingly, they also shared the same bland sense of humor.
But on this wintry afternoon, Harold was too preoccupied with the object Henry held in his hand to bother with their unique brand of witty banter. "C'mon amigo," Harold also liked to employ his scant knowledge of the Spanish language whenever possible, "what is that shiny object that has caught my eye. Surely you must want to share your bounty with your old mate, Harold."
But Henry still grasped the doodad firmly, unwillingly to reveal his treasure to this man he now hardly recognized.
Soon, Harold, known widely for his consummate craftsmanship as a cobbler but also for his intolerable temper, began to grow annoyed with his short friend. "I haven't seen you since the new millenium, and this is how you respond to my playful inquiries? So be it!" And with that, Harold defiantly turned on his heels and began to walk away from this chance encounter, more displeased than he had been before their meeting.
Suddenly, Harold felt a sharp burning between the blades of his shoulders. At that moment, he realized what Henry had been keeping from him, and understood his reluctance to reveal the knife. Yet, despite the unbearable pain, Harold was overwhelmed by an enormous sense of confusion.
For, you see, it was then that he realized that this individual he had long known as Henry was actually a quail in a man costume. He also didn't know how a bird could hold a knife.


Blogger Natty Bumpo said...

I am quite red-faced right now. I thought Henry had a gun. Imagine my surprise when the shiny object turned out to be a knife. However, I did realize by the time I had finished the first paragraph that Henry was actually a quail.

January 31, 2007 at 12:55 AM  
Blogger Thelonius Monk said...

Wait a second, I'm still confused as to what job George Michael has?
-The banana stand
Oh, duh. I thought you meant like a plumber or something. And I was like, where did that come from?

January 31, 2007 at 9:45 AM  
Blogger Runs With Two Horses said...

You've got a lot of nerve, Peltier. I finally opened up to you about how my Uncle Morris was brutally murdered by a delusional quail, and you spin it off as an original creation. Next time we talk I'll skip the foreplay and just let you pour salt directly into my wounds.

January 31, 2007 at 9:56 AM  

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