29/06/2013 - SAUL SAW

            Saul saw and saw furthermore. He didn't mind the wind, he didn't come of his own accord. They damned him in the summertime, threw him out of his cherry fields in order to make a good living elsewhere. These Fine Fathers of Reward came off as brash and abrasive in their demanding he got up off the floor. They knew the law after all, they paid him very well for his services to solitary soldiers when they crashed from the turnpike in the sky. Their rules were strict though, enforced by motivations too wild and obtrusive to describe on mere paper. Saul ate papyrus as part of his day to day diet.

            So he ventured out into the gardens and whacked off in the sugar cane patch as a final act of despair. His mind was slipping into two wobbly jelly shards, squabbling among the lips of far fatter men. He was becoming one with a god, well on the way, but which one? Someone else who told the tale suggested it was one with a preference for lightning bolts and snickering holy books. Speculation is a wonderful thing and not worth being worthy of. These are his tall tales, these are her whoppers. Nevertheless things would go on to improve for old Saul, an architect came to his side of the road and patted him on the back until all the foul gas was out of him. The last of his pressure fizzled out at the gentle sound of the word 'bollocks'. In that moment Saul knew he would be number one again, if not on a pedestal with most bearded geniuses.

            He thanked the architect and rose to his feet, withdrawing a yo-yo from the obligatory handshake. He stalled it into a sleeper and then threw it up in the air where it shattered into a thousand creamy crystals that whistled back down to earth. Saul looked down and thought, My, how the grass looks from here is not for the faint of heart. He was, of course, exaggerating and doing a damn fine job. It was a pity that nobody could pull out a chair for his sardonic wit, it was a shame that nobody suckered him into babysitting a serial killer. He counted himself lucky for just being a simple hick without a care for his chin to suddenly and unfaithfully balance on. It was a mismatch made in the very name of opportunity.

            Saul set out on a journey to marry Peggy Sue but was met with fraught frigid battleships and workaday leprechauns with terrific temper tantrums. He shot them all with his trusty wavelength gun and did a runner straight to Splitsville via Lam Avenue. Who would have thought as he ran, that he could raise his knees so far up? Who could have predicted that both his wife and his fiancé were the same shade of black? Who put him up to a career in cutting cloth? Saul cannot walk very far in stampede season.