B4-B Boomer

My friend, you have met a terrible, terrible demise. But, uh, y'know, I-I don't feel too bad about it. After all, if...if it weren't from me, it would've just been from someone else, y'know? I guess what I'm trying to say is, life...life goes on. W-well, from—for everyone else, life goes on. Not...not for you. You're...you're dead. But that's neither here nor there. It reminds me of one summer day in the park. I was having just a delightful picnic with my good friend Orville. And I said to him, I said, 'Orville, I...I have a story.' And he said to me, 'What's the significance of the story?' And...I said to him, 'Orville, not every story has to have significance, y'know? Sometimes, a...y'know, sometimes, a story's just a story. You try to read into every little thing, and find meaning in everything anyone says, you'll just drive yourself crazy. Had a friend do it once. Wasn't pretty. We talked about it for years. And then not only that, but...you'll likely end up believing something you shouldn't believe, thinking something you shouldn't think, o-o-or assuming something you shouldn't assume. Y'know? Sometimes,' I said, 'a story is-is just a story, so just be quiet for one second of your life and eat your sandwich, okay?' Of course, it was only then I'd realized I'd made sandwiches, and...poor Orville was having such difficulty eating it! Elephants have those clumsy hands, y'know? Actually, I-I suppose that's the problem. They don't have hands at all, do they? They're f—they're all feet! And I-I couldn't imagine anyone asking me to eat a sandwich with my feet. Now, if I recall correctly, there was a bakery nearby. I said to him, 'Orville, let me go get you some rye bread.' Now, I'm unsure if elephants enjoy rye bread, but I assure you that Orville does. Now, this was on a Tuesday, which was good, because rye bread was always fresh on Tuesday. They made sourdough bread on Monday, and threw it out Wednesday... Or rather, they sold it at a discount for people wanting to feed it to the ducks, and then, prob'ly at the end of the day, finally, they threw it all out. I-I don't recall. I do remember a man who would bring his son to the bakery every Wednesday, and...then go feed the ducks. He would buy all of the sourdough bread. Of course, y'know, you're not supposed to feed the ducks sourdough bread at all. It swells up in their stomach, and then they all die. At, uh, at least...at least, that's what I've heard. Y'know, I-I never saw any ducks die myself, but I did notice a substantial decrease in the duck population over the course of a few years. I just never thought to stop the man and tell him that he was killing the ducks by feeding them sourdough bread! And if you want my opinion on the matter—heh, and I told Orville this as well—if you wanna feed ducks, or birds of any kind, for that matter, it's best to buy seed. I mean, when you think about it, breads of any sort don't occur in nature. They don't grow on trees o-or spring up from the bushes. I don't think birds know what to do with bread. What was I saying? Oh oh, yes yes. So I bought Orville some rye bread. What a fine day it was.


 * sigh* It seems that you have met your end. Ugh, what a pity. Y'know, I-I don't feel too bad about it, though. After all, if it weren't me, it would've just been one of the others, I guess. I'm honestly just glad to be out of those air ducts. Y'know, it's...it's not easy for a hippopotamus to fit up there. And...not easy to get down, either. Not as young as I used to be, as you can see. I used to get to do all sorts of things. Y-you're young, you're vibrant, you have that sort of pep in your step. *sigh* It reminds me of a conversation I was having with one of my good friends, Orville. We were having a nice picnic one day. I believe it was summer...or perhaps it was...was it the fall? Yes yes yes, it was the fall because the leaves had turned already. But I said to Orville, I-I said, 'Orville, I have a story to tell you.' And Orville looked at me, y'know, kinda odd and, and-and said, 'What is it about?' I said to him, 'Not every story has to be about something, Orville. Sometimes a person just wants to talk. Why does everything have to be a story?' I said to him. He just looked at me and he said, 'Well, you-you-you said you had a story.' Y'know, he was quite right. I did in fact. I told him I had a story. I suppose if a person just wants to talk, then it's best to not announce that you're telling a story. Telling a story does come with its own pressures and expectations, I-I suppose. After all, if you're just talking to a friend, then there's no more expectations than if you're talking into the wind! Words by themselves aren't expected to carry, and aren't expected to stick. But if, y'know, if you announce that you're telling a story, well then...there better be a point to it all, y'know? No one wants to sit and listen to someone ramble on and on and on with absolutely no end in sight. So, you know, it's-it's good to be mindful that when you tell someone that you're about to tell a story that you have something to say. Telling someone that you're gonna tell them a story is tantamount to ask them to stop what they're doing and-and pay attention. You're basically saying, 'Hey hey, hey buddy, stop everything, stop what you're thinking, I have a solution to everything.' And, well, I didn't really have any story to tell. In-in hindsight, I-I probably just misspoke when I said that I had a story. I think it would have just been better to tell Orville that I wanted to tell him something, rather than tell him that I had a story. But y'know, even then, it might have put too much importance on the whole thing. Either way, it was quite a nice day. I remember...I remember that we were drinking tea.

Well, *sigh*, it seems that your journey, has ended. Very sorry about that, it was-it always was going to end this way, of course. If it weren't by me, it would've just been by some other, y'know, terrible thing, just, you could not imagine how terrible it would be. Just, I get scared thinking about it. Glad it's not me. It reminds me of a-of a time I was speaking to my good friend Orville. We were-we were sitting on a park bench watching the pigeons. I was on the left, he was on the- wait, wait. Was I on the right? Or left? Anyways, doesn't matter. We were sitting on there watching the pigeons. And uh, I-I said to Orville, "friend, those birds are frozen". A-and he kinda looked at me like I'd lost my mind, but I reminded him that it was winter, y'know, and often birds will sit in a tree until they freeze, then they, they you know, sorta fall to the ground. *sigh* until the sun warms them up, a-and they can, y'know, move around again. So I said to Orville, you'd might as well save those breadcrumbs until the birds thaw, because they can't very well enjoy them in the condition they're in. To which he asked what I meant, and asking what condition the crumbs should be in before he threw them to the birds, assuming that I meant the birds couldn't enjoy-the breadcrumbs in the condition that the crumbs were in, when in-fact, I had meant the birds could not enjoy them in the condition that the birds were in, considering that the birds were frozen, you know. So he took a moment and then threw his last handful onto the ground. I said to him; "Orville, why did you throw the breadcrumbs to the birds when I just told ya' they're frozen"? To which he responded; "the breadcrumbs are not frozen". Again, misunderstanding my words. I didn't mean to say that the breadcrumbs were frozen, when I said "I told ya they're frozen". I'd been referring to the birds. *sigh* You know, in hindsight, what I-what I should've said was, and this would make perfect sense. "Why did you throw the breadcrumbs to the birds when the birds are frozen"? He misunderstood upon my correction stating that, he didn't know what else to do with the breadcrumbs and, that, perhaps you know, when the birds thawed they'd still be able to eat the crumbs, so I-I-I said to Orville, I said, this is what I said to him, I said, "Orville, the birds may be dead".


 * sigh*, it seems that you have met a horrible demise, my friend. But uh, you know, these...these things happen and...and life...life goes on. N-not for you, obviously, uh, you're dead, but uh, it reminds me of a time I was having a conversation with my friend Orville. We were, uh, where were we? We were by the...the river, we were sitting by the river and watching the fish leap over the falls and uh, I said to Orville "You know, sometimes I feel like a fish leaping over and over again, always trying to get somewhere. Though, I don't know where, only to find myself in the jaws of a beast." He, of course, looked at me surprised, you know? "Have you been in the jaws of a beast, friend?" To which I said, "No, of course not Orville". I said, 'No no no, I...I simply meant that life can seem like a relentless endeavor to overcome meaningless obstacles, only to meet an equally meaningless fate regardless of your efforts, regardless of the obstacles you've passed. And, uh, Orville he...he stood and proceeded to drape me with a picnic cloth, to which I...I asked him, I said, "Friend, what...what are ya doin?" He looked at me very concerned really. "I feel like you've gotten too much sun". Indeed, heh, indeed I had. He proceeded to pour me a glass of just...ice cold lemonade. Ooh, you ever mix it with iced tea? Ya do, like...half lemonade ha...ooh, you should try it so--well, you can't, because you're dead, but, anyways, so you may be asking yourself, "How did I go from sitting by the falls and drinking lemonade to being wedged in the air duct, not only with Orville, but with an entire assortment of fruity-colored friends?" Well, there's uh...there's really no good answer to that, but...perhaps I met a demise of my own at some point and...this is my afterlife or my dream, whatever it might mean, I...I honestly don't know. Or...maybe it doesn't mean anything at all. Maybe it doesn't mean anything at all...