The Oracle
By drkevin
- 208 reads
The mountain range seemed as far away as ever. A dozen native bearers had died in the jungle, victims of disease, snake bites and eating too many yams. Lord Davenport was the only man left now and his supplies were finished.
But praise be! Two days later, he crawled to the cave mouth; his destination finally reached! A little creature with long white hair and uncut fingernails sat cross-legged before a fire. He stared without emotion at the exhausted newcomer.
"What is it you want then? Power? Money? A yellow Ferrari? Nobody these days is interested in the meaning of life, that's for sure."
"Oh, great oracle, master of the unknown, font of reason, guardian of the underworld....."
"Get on with it man! I haven't got all day! There's rice to be boiled, balls to be scratched, weird noises to make".
"Oh...er...very well divine one. Could you please tell me why the people who make toilet rolls insist on gluing down the first sheet, so you have to tear it open like a Neanderthal man eating his first meal for a month?"
"Fool and cretin! The answer is simple. It stops the roll unwinding before sale."
"But the rolls are always wrapped in paper or non-recyclable plastic anyway."
The Oracle froze. His eyes became opaque (like Master Po in the old Kung Fu TV series) and blue vapour issued from both ears. A mighty roar emerged from his buttocks and his disintegrating body hurtled into space.
"He should have phoned a friend before answering" smirked Lord Davenport.
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