TheBanyanTree: I reckon I could do a pretty good rhinoceros

[John Bailey]

Tuesday August 19, 2003

I RECKON I COULD DO A PRETTY GOOD RHINOCEROS


"I'm getting quite a collection of old farty discount cards," I said as we 
came out of the garden centre pushing a trolley laden with more plants for 
the back garden.

"Yeah, good, 'ennit."

"Sure is. We saved eight pounds fifty there."

"What shall we spend it on?"

"How about we take this lot home out of the sun and then pop down to 
MacDonalds for lunch.  It's getting a bit late for me to start rustling up 
something."

The plants looked good massed by the kitchen door in the shade, dripping 
with a welcome-to-your-new-home drink. Before we'd had a chance to wash up 
and get ready for the second trip a red admiral butterfly flitted over the 
fence and sank its nectar tube into a flower on the new buddleia, spreading 
its gaudy wings in appreciation.

"Well, willya look at that!" Graham whispered.

"Neat. But you don't have to whisper. Butterflies don't have ears. Least, I 
don't think they do."

"Clever clogs. Anyway, nature observers on the telly always whisper."

"You're right, they do, especially when they're talking right by a 
rhinoceros or some such monstrous creature."

"Nasty things, rhinocerii."

"Sure are. Charge at you as soon as look at you."

"I wonder if butterflies ever charge at naturalists?"

"Dunno. But there's always a first time. Let's go get lunch before this one 
gets angry."

It didn't show any signs of anger, to the contrary, it sat there displaying 
every indication that it was having a good time and was fully at peace with 
its world. Doesn't pay to tempt providence, though, so we shut the door 
gently and went off to sink our feeding tubes into large quarter pounders 
with cheese.

MacDonalds was heaving with mothers of the harassed variety and hordes of 
children of the extremely noisy kind. I've learned to be understanding 
about this. There are very few places where a parent can take the kids to 
eat and be assured of a welcome and if you go there on a sunny day in the 
school holidays you have to expect there to be kids. Lots of kids. We were 
the ones out of place and I do the best I can to deal with it.

Wiping the last drop of melted cheese from my chin -- you can't dab melted 
cheese off your chin, besides, in MacDonalds no-one can see you wipe -- I 
turned to the little tube holding the one-in-four-chances-of-winning 
promotion token, pushed it out neatly with a drinking straw, and 
exclaimed:  "I've won a quarter pounder with cheese!"

"Jammy git. How come you always win and all I get is the 'sorry, please try 
again' ticket?"

"Dunno. Might be something to do with my collection of old farty discount 
cards."

When we left and the doors closed behind us, suddenly cutting off the solid 
wall of shrieking inside the building, I felt really good to be standing in 
the sunshine once more. I gave a very small leap and heel-click to 
demonstrate my relief.

"You really are feeling better, aren't you?"

"Yup. I may never make a butterfly again but I reckon I could do a pretty 
good rhinoceros."


--
John Bailey   Carmarthenshire, Wales
journal of a writing man
<http://www.oldgreypoet.com>