“Because you’re labouring under a misapprehension, I assume. You think I do care, so you tell me your stuff. And it usually makes you feel better doesn’t it? So no harm done; everybody’s happy. I don’t listen, and you feel better – no problem.”
This is reminiscent of the Frank Hardy story, The Fairest Raffle Ever Run, from his book The Yarns of Billy Borker.
Borker ran the fairest raffle ever.
He went round to the backyard of a local house in the dead of night and stole a chook (chicken).
Then next day he took it down to the local pub and raffled it. Sold a lot of tickets. One of the local patrons won the bird, and Borker. followed him home, then snuck into that winner’s backyard, got the chook out of the winner’s chook shed (henhouse), and returned it to its rightful owner’s shed.
All the other ticket buyers would have lost anyway, reasoned Borker. The rightful owner did not even miss his bird for the time it was gone. But that still left the problem of the owner of the winning ticket. Hadn’t he been cheated and robbed?
Not so. Borker went round to his place in the dead of night and put the price of his winning ticket in his letterbox. So the winner was no worse off. Well, sort of.
Nah. Humorous premises, some nice visual details, but too long and too much exposition for my taste.
Frankly, I’m here to hear you ranting :-)
God on prayer:
This is reminiscent of the Frank Hardy story, The Fairest Raffle Ever Run, from his book The Yarns of Billy Borker.
Borker ran the fairest raffle ever.
He went round to the backyard of a local house in the dead of night and stole a chook (chicken).
Then next day he took it down to the local pub and raffled it. Sold a lot of tickets. One of the local patrons won the bird, and Borker. followed him home, then snuck into that winner’s backyard, got the chook out of the winner’s chook shed (henhouse), and returned it to its rightful owner’s shed.
All the other ticket buyers would have lost anyway, reasoned Borker. The rightful owner did not even miss his bird for the time it was gone. But that still left the problem of the owner of the winning ticket. Hadn’t he been cheated and robbed?
Not so. Borker went round to his place in the dead of night and put the price of his winning ticket in his letterbox. So the winner was no worse off. Well, sort of.
It was a win-win-win-win… situation all round.
This guy sounds familiar somehow… “Oh, your species is always suffering and dying.”
Too much exposition?
That was some seriously bare-bones exposition. It was more like stage directions than exposition. I’m stung.
:- )