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An online newspaper featuring the columns of C.G. Scavola |
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Run That By Me Again by C.G. Scavola Confucius thinks about it Confucius rubbed his eyes, sat up in bed, and looked out at the lotus blossoms. The lotus blossoms looked back at Confucius. “If a thousand lotus blossoms stare into your bedroom,” Confucius thought. “A thouand lotus blossoms. Looking into your bedroom. Got to be something there. Work on it after breakfast.” He padded to the kitchen where his wife was cooking breakfast on a wok. “I thought I bought a stove last month,” he said. “A stove purchased but not delivered is like a thousand lotus blossoms withering in the darkness,” she said. “Maybe they had the wrong address.” “Maybe you forgot to tell them to deliver it.” “How could I do that?” The wife of the great philosopher looked at him and said, “Because you’re always thinking up those wise sayings instead of thinking about what I ask you to do. For instance, where is the laundry I asked you to fold last week?” Confucius thought and said, “Folded laundry in the moonlight reminds me of a thousand pilgrims taking the first step on a journey of light.” “You took it out with the garbage again?” “Something like that. What’s for breakfast?” “Thousand year old egg drop soup.” “Again?” “On our household budget, it’s all we can afford. Why can’t you get a job down at the China factory, like Hubert. I could have married Hubert, like mother always says.” “A mother-in-law who says …” “Don’t even think about going there. How do you want your eggs?” “Inscrutable, please.” The cat padded into the room, sniffed at the wok, marked its base, sniffed at Confucius, marked his left foot, and walked into the garden where it ate a lotus blossom and puked. Confucius looked at his left foot. His wife looked at it and said, “And what does that remind you of in the moonlight?” “Not now,” said Confuscious. “The lotus blossoms were staring at me again when I got out of bed.” “If you’d come home from the tavern before it closed they might keep their eyes to themselves in the morning.” “I glean many bits of wisdom with my friends there,” Confucius said. His wife slapped a bowl of thousand year old egg drop soup onto the table in front of him and said, “Glean a little bit of that, hot shot, and get down to the unemployment office. You have to sign up again by the end of the month. Either that or go down to the China factory and see Hubert. Tell him mother sent you.” Confucius looked at the soup, scooped up a spoonful of it, sniffed it, and said, “This has a funny smell.” “Thousand year old eggs have a funny smell?” said his wife. “Your philosopher friends can’t cover that one for you at the tavern? Now finish it up. I want to get the dishes done. Mother is going to drop by in a few minutes.” Confucius pushed the soup away and said, “I think I’ll go out for breakfast.” “Oh, fine,” said his wife. “Mother will be delighted she missed you. Just be sure you get to the unemployment office before breakfast gets past the fourth or fifth round.” Confucius looked into the garden, then walked to the front door. On the sidewalk, the cat looked up at him and hissed. Confucius said, “The cat who hisses …” “Oh, can that stuff,” said the cat. “Lotus blossoms, thousand mile journeys, mountains of the moon - why don’t you get a job at the China factory so you can afford to feed me real fish instead of ground up animal byproducts?” Confucius looked at the cat and said, “You’ve been talking with the lotus blossoms.” “Yes, and then I ate them,” said the cat. “And now I’m making a thousand mile journey to the mountains of the ground clay, where the giant litter box in lotus blossom land sits. That’s what ground up animal byproducts and lotus blossoms do to my digestive system.” Confucius made a face at the cat and went down the walk. At the street, he met his mother-in-law. “Going to the China factory to see Hubert?” she said. “No, to the tavern to philosophize,” said Confucius.” “He who makes a journey to the tavern for purposes of philosophy should not take his first step in cat do-do,” she said. Confuscious looked at his right foot and made another face at the cat. Copyright 2010, Robert A. Markwalter |
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Any resemblence in this material to any person, living or dead or in suspended animation, is purely coincidental. Planning a visit to Savannah, GA? Run That By Me Again author Bob Markwalter is also a licensed Savannah tour guide. Visit Savannah, the Walking City at www.walkingsavannah.com to see more about Bob's tours and tour services and the beautiful ante-bellum city of Savannah. ©1998 - 2010, Robert A. Markwalter. All rights reserved. |