Today, on the 21st of May, the elect were scheduled to be beamed to the heavenly places, to ascend to the skies never to return. Or so Mr. Campman would have us believe. Mr. Bertilson witnessed his own watch swap from the overwhelming quantity of 23:59:59 to 00:00 mere minutes ago, missing not this unhistoric event.
He immediately leapt into the air spasmodically, gasping for breath, yelling incomprehensibly, and eventually looking rather depressed.
"It wasn't today..." he muttered bleakly, staring in odd directions. He slumped down onto a rather battered sofa and examined the insides of his eyelids. It appeared he was deep in thought. Within seconds, he leapt up, solution on the tip of his lips!
"I KNEW IT! I"M A HEATHEN!" He screamed madly. It seemed there was nothing to convince him otherwise. Eventually, though, he calmed down and said, "No...I haven't a golden calf to speak of. Not to mention this slight obsession with one particular deity," he added, thoughtfully caressing his facial hair. The situation appeared to bring the thoughtfulness out of him, but try as he might, it became difficult after midnight to appear in the slightest degree sane.
"I KNOW!" he said again, ceasing his mindless pacing for a few seconds to exercise his vocal cords. "EUREKA! YES! IT MUST BE!"
Were we seated, our rears would nearly be gone from that wondrous surface we call a chair. In short, we hung on his every word. There couldn't be a more intelligent person in, well, the house! The next words which exited his mouth were guaranteed by nature and half a dozen other aspects of our reality to be mind-numbingly brilliant.
"I must be wrong about everything! I've been reading the Bible awrong the whole of my life, every word from the mouths of my parents must have been a planted falsehood in the mouths of innocent people! There can't be another explanation!" Mr. Bertilson paced the room with a sort of methodical, rhythmic intensity. The floor quaked in synchronization with his incredible brain! His noggin could be seen visibly bulging to the rhythm of his manliest of steps! Mr. Bertilson truly thought his best when on his feet. The great brain throbbed and sparked with ideas, with conclusions! He could not be said to be anything but a thinker, on the level of such sages as Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, and, last but not least, Speedy Gonzales! This was his greatest moment. This was his greatest occupation! He could do nothing else better! He was...
Asleep. We found our awed silence broken by the house-shaking snoring of Mr. Bertilson. His mind still seemed to teem with activity, positively charging the air around him...furthermore, he continued to pace as if his mind were still well in control of everything.
He was dreaming. It seemed rational to us, once we got back to HQ. The brain, according to the best of scientists and most of us all, operates at significantly fuller capacity when the body is asleep. However he'd managed it, Mr. Bertilson seemed to have accessed this. He paced away the night without halt, brain well on its way to an explanation to it all.
The intensity of the whole encounter left us all rather shaken, and we retired to our beds inspired and humbled by the awesomeness that was Mr. Bertilson.
!Noah!
2 comments:
That. Was. Hilarious. XD
Thanks. :D
Post a Comment