T H E M A P P E O P L E I see the neatly lettered names before me on a map affixed to the wall. They are a rota of communities, formed by those who came before us. The enclaves are well ordered and spacious in their two-dimensional, mercator projection. The boundary lines are linear and perpendicular and none give a hint to the complicated array of lives that reside within these neatly proportioned hereditary fiefdoms. One can imagine them to be what they are, tiny baronies with well defended borders and armed check points, with gates manned by stern looking para-military personnel.
" The Frying Pan People " The idea came to us one Summer while we were vacationing on Cape Ann, North of Boston. My Sister in Law, Trish, had occasion to visit a Wahlgreen's Department Store, to make a small purchase. While there, she had the opportunity to observe what we would later dub "Frying Pan People." An overly portly matron, stuffed into tight fitting spandex, was upbraiding her slightly built and shabbily dressed mate. The timid looking male had picked up a metal frying pan for purchase. The solidly constructed female, who had three bags of Dorritos and one each of cheezebits and Potato chips in her arms, let out a high pitched and nasal barrage. "What are you doing with a frigging frying pan, she roared. "We have twenty frigging dollars left and you want to buy a frigging frying pan!"
Whatever the eye Beholds The difference between you and I is something that only you and I notice. To others, we have two eyes, two arms and two legs and function in a similar bio-mechanical fashion. In Shakespeare's classic. " The Merchant of Venice," we have the classic soliloquy "Have we not two eyes, two legs?" etc.
The Dandelion Cure Darryl Donnecker was an average looking man who was unremarkable in everything he did, with one notable exception. He had an explosive digestive tract, whose daily ritual denouement ended in a volcanic eruption that was audible to everyone within a 50 foot radius. To compound the embarrassment, the process was preceded by great rippling peals of flatulence that sounded like distant thunder on a stormy night.
The Columbus Crocodile We were in the Alcazar Palace, in Seville, when we looked up into the rafters of the castle hallway. There, we saw the stuffed body of a crocodile, hanging from the rafters. It looked interesting enough, but they don't have crocodiles in Spain. We asked the tour guide where it came from. He didn't know, but went and asked one of the palace guards. The man's face brightened when he began to tell the story.