Monday, March 21, 2005

The Phlebotomist

One evening, I returned home from work and entered my apartment to find a lepidosiren(a fish found in West Africa and South America, having both gills and lungs) sitting on my television, smoking a hookah filled with woad(cruciferous plant, the pulped and fermented leaves of which yield an excellent blue dye)leaves. To tell you the truth, the stuff smelled more like phosgene( a heavy, poisonous gas with a nauseating, choking smell).He gave me a hit off the hookah, and I sat down...actually, I fell down, woad is more potent than you might think.
After I had dragged myself up onto the couch, the fish proceeded to impart to me a fascinating tale he had heard as a young fish. So, here now is the story I was told by a hookah smoking lepidosiren named Gilligan. I swear to you, his name was Gilligan.
Once upon a time(cliche beginning, I know) there was a man who lived alone atop a high mountain in Colorado. He lived peacefully and simply. He was a gymnosophist( a sect of ancient Hindu ascetics who lived solitarily, and wore little or no clothing) who dabbled in hecatacombs( any great sacrifice of human or animal victims) and trigonometry. He also had a hebdomadal(weekly) custom of hemoptysis(coughing up blood).
He held at his side an arquebus(old fashioned handgun fired from a rest) that was always loaded. He didn't really have to protect himself though, because the fact that he never bathed sort of kept people away. But, he also had a rabid and vicious lugworm for protection, just in case.
One day, this man was going about his favorite hobby: that being looking up dirty words in the dictionary, and was in the "P's" when a beserk phlebotomist suddenly leapt out of the dictionary and stabbed the poor gymnosophist to death with a plastic knife(it took the better part of two days).
And there ends the tale told to me by the woad smoking lepidosiren named Gilligan. And I will always remember the moral of the tale: A lugworm and an arquebus do not a defense make.

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