Category: Random Noise

[dropcap1]P[/dropcap1]ossibly a possum, and one of dubious lineage at that. Elephants do not, of course, need personal organisers due to their famously long memories. The memory capacity of the elephant can easily be explained thus; the brain is, in common parlance, often referred to as ‘grey matter’. Elephants are indisputably grey and definitely matter. Elephants matter from an ecological standpoint, and are also very important to artists. If elephants didn’t use so much of it, there would be far too much grey floating around in the world and not enough room for the other colours, so art would be monotonous.

Indeed, elephants matter so much that, with all that matter in one place, they cause some interesting gravitational effects. It is quite common to see flies, mosquitoes and even the occasional small bird circling an elephant as, venturing too close, they have become trapped in its gravity well and are doomed to orbit there forever and ever and ever and ever unless a zebra shows up*.

Zebra are an intersting anomaly. They are, of course, pure white but, being four dimensional beings, they appear only partially in our three dimensional version of reality, the ‘missing’ bits showing up as black. The black is actually the void of emptiness, nothingness between the dimensions. A place so empty that not even nothing exists there. A place where there is no place at a time when there is no time. Nothing. No thing. Not even nothing, just the endless, beginningless waves of infinite possibilities, gently oscillating.

* The disturbance of the space/time continuum caused by a passing zebra is often enough to disrupt an elephant’s gravity field sufficiently to throw its living moons out of orbit. Many will trace parabolic trajectories, falling to earth at some point behind the zebra, frequently landing in a pile of dung. Such is life.

 

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[dropcap1]F[/dropcap1]lumadiddle and edelweiss are words. Larooeope is not yet a word. Moonshine is flumadiddle, or whiskey. Whiskey from an old tin can? Bellowhead. None of these are relevant. Elephants are relevant but irreverent, have you ever seen one in a dog collar? Yes, elephants are both irreverent and irreverend. Sadly, however, irreverend is not a word. Artichokes will be what they are until they are something else. Would a painter in an ill-fitting dog collar be an artichoke? No, that would clearly be illegal. In the grand scheme of things, elephants are more important than artists and whiskey due to their indisputable greyness, which infuses their very being in much the same way that the smell of tuna finds its way into your envelopes when you inadvertently leave them in the airing cupboard together.

A bomay duck will never swim upstream but will, perversely*, fly north in winter in a desperate bid to escape the onslaught of the terrible popadum storms of the Uttar Pradesh region. High, high, high they fly, way above the himalayas and on into Mongolia where they overwinter, feasting on marigolds and dry crusts that they earn by doing the washing up in the local deli. Ducks are rarely seen outside of delis due to the preponderance of bears in the streets and squares of Ulan Batar. The fact that bombay duck is a fish is irrelevant. If it was lunchtime it would be worried, but only because it hadn’t finished the washing up yet and it didn’t want to get the elephant into trouble.

* because Uttar Pradesh is north of Bombay,** so they fly directly into the storms. If they stayed in Bombay they would avoid them altogether, silly ducks.

** now known as Mumbai***

*** as opposed to Mumbye, which could be

1. wishing your mother farewell
2. enquiring as to whether one’s mother was in the vicinity****

**** but only when phrased as a question and spoken with an affected Welsh accent

Bombay Bicycle Club is another red herring, but that’s a whole different kettle of ball games.*****

***** NO BALL GAMES

 

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This post will not be widely red, rather it will adopt a subtle, ochre hue (or, if you’re feeling uncharitable, a jaundiced tinge). The funny thing about hues is their tendency to cry at the slightest provocation, as opposed to Hugh, who was a member of the Borg collective, although defective in their terms. The Borg would certainly have termed this post ‘jaundiced’. Assimilation is not synonymous with charity.

Ah, the multifarious joys of the English language and the abuse thereof. As a well bred, well read and prolifically literate Englishman, I consider it my birthright to write, right, wright and rite. Pedants control yourselves, please, I’ve only just started! And as the likelihood of this post being widely, or even fully, read declines line by line, I feel inclined to ramp things up a little.

Remembering a time when I rite right to the lake, paddled my coracle to see the oracle, rowed with him and then rowed back, having stolen his stole as well as his rowing boat. I rode back up the road on a hoarse horse and went to the tack shop, but they had no tacks, only an inexplicably large supply of pears. I asked for a pair, they said I could have a gross. I didn’t want to eat that many as I might become gross, which would be really gross. I started to grouse but they didn’t deal in gallinaceous birds either.

I ponied up for a new pony and rode the bay down to the bay, a low bough causing me to bow low in avoidance. I wanted to pick up some whey on the way as long as it didn’t weigh too much, they measured some out and the weight was worth the wait.

When I reached the shore I was sure I would see the sea, but it was nowhere to be seen. The scene was completed as I was passed by a chimpanzee, on a tricycle, wearing a fez which was, predictably, red.

Bored now!
IanB

— Inspired by the writing prompt ‘red’ from the now sadly defunct StudioThirty+

 

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