January 16, 2006

We were simply thawing our frozen appendages by pouring scalding liquids over them when we were suddenly transformed into monstrous insects. “I didn’t think tea could do this to a man,” I expressed by rapidly gyrating my wings. “Maybe it’s not the tea,” Laura murmured, staring at me with beautiful, compound eyes.

After some commotion and broken china, most of the customers at the nearby tables managed to claw their way out of the restaurant.

It seemed a rather peculiar end an otherwise perfectly blissful afternoon. Laura and I drove down to Stratford early in the morning to meet my Visionary Indian Friend. After coffee and small talk, we took a long walk by the lake exchanging deep, meaningful observations like “You look like a frozen piece of poo-poo.”

You see, it was fairly cold, and at low temperatures human brains don’t function too well.

If I recall correctly, most of our appendages froze while we were staring at a flock of Canadian geese that against all odds started gliding on the thin ice covering the lake. “These are Jesus geese,” I said, noting their propensity to walk on a thin membrane of frozen liquid.

From across the lake, boys threw rocks at the Jesus geese. Their rocks sounded like missiles when they crashed beneath the ice, and the geese we clearly getting pissed.

That’s when we went away to warm our appendages and transform ourselves into flying things.