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(75 votes) Published: Feb 17, 2008 2:18 a.m. Viewed 526 times
How to make a Raindog.
I was in the jungle again and I had my shovel with me. I saw the marking of the treasure and cleared the feather-watch away before I started to dig gently and carefully. It’s more caressing mother earth than hacking at her crusty skin. After the first uncovering I noticed the unforgettably loose jolting movements of the surface soil as the load-bearing moist darkness underneath crumbled down further and further, slowly and erratic, to level out as far as the structures of roots and viscosity would allow.
I reached into the cavern and gently dragged my fingertips along the ceiling with the light dexterity of a claw hammer. I dislodged one of the segments which belonged to the womb of the earth and following my movement rolled down a gush of more. There were about five of them, round, brown, black, purple and green, with some white showing. Some fell into my hand and the ones that didn’t I immediately picked up from the clusters of enriched darkness.
I ran home and got a sharpened butter knife out of the drawer and sharpened it on a block quickly. I knew these unborn babies were perfect for the job. I sliced them precisely and planned every cut with hours of thoughts I prepared earlier. Once the easy part was over with I started to put the puzzle together.
It’s a miracle! Raindog is alive again! I gave his body to the ground and he regenerated into a new Raindog.
As I turned to leave the operating room I saw a rat:
The rat kept staring at me and I knew it was one of mother earth’s creations letting me know I’d wronged her by the recreation of the long gone Raindog. I gazed into the rat’s eyes and saw myself as a tired unfulfilled old man with a monstrosity in my arms. There was no love, there was no joy or enlightenment. I was not at peace with the world and there was a reason for this.
Raindog should never have been brought back to life. I should never have tampered with the packaging of life. Raindog should have come from his mother’s anus like a Norman donkey:
Living with death is part of living. I realise now that you can’t create emotions by simply giving Raindog poor an improper burial. Raindog should have decomposed and helped brothers from different mothers get laid into the earth when the time came.
Next time I go to the jungle I’m not taking a shovel, I’m not taking anything from the ground. But I’m depositing a hard worked seed in one of mother earth’s many crevices.
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