It’s not everyday you meet a dinosaur, certainly not one that lives on a printer and is called Björn. The experience may well leave both parties of the encounter somewhat baffled. In a situation like this the proper etiquette requires that man and dinosaur go to the nearest bar together and try to contemplate the encounter over a glass of the strongest stuff that the barman can find. The process of finding the true significance and meaning of what happened may well take some time, and thus lead to another drink, and so on.
Before long the bar will be closing, just as the profound insight into human-dinosaur relations is about to take shape in man’s head (dinosaurs, of course, have this all worked out. For them these encounters are just an excuse for a piss up. And, man, they can drink, I tell you!).
After a hard night of trying to understand the ramblings of a drunken dinosaur (“Do you understand what it’s like… You know… You can’t understand, you’re just a human…” [Glug, glug, glug]) man finally makes it home without being too late for the last bus. His mind elevated by the stimulating conversation with a dinosaur - who stayed in the bar when man went home, so who’s the bad guy really, huh? – man tries to share this once-in-a-lifetime-experience with his partner, but only meets ignorant disbelief and rejection.
Now that’s enough for anybody, so man decides to counter attack with a brilliant scheme of talking rubbish about alcohol-induced things in things, or whatever. After a bit of incoherent ranting he finally falls into a drunken stupor, and before he knows, he’s in a place where things in things make perfect sense, his views are appreciated and held in high value, maybe even debated in academic circles as examples of the Ultimate Truth…
It’s just a bloody shame about the next morning, isn’t it!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment