November 2009

The man walked. He didn’t know where he was going, because he was just a character, and I was yet to tell him. Actually, I didn’t really know where he was walking to either. So, as I was stuck for an idea, I decided to ask him what he thought.

“Excuse me,” I said “just wondering if you have any idea where you’d like to walk to?”

The man stopped and looked around. Then he thought for a moment, looked up and said,

“God? Is that you?”

God? He didn’t believe in god. I was sure I’d written him in as an atheist. Oh, hang on, hadn’t got that bit yet, had I?

“Sorry, no God here,” I replied “By the way, for future reference, you’re an atheist”

“Oh, am I? Good to know. Thanks.”

“So, anyway, where would you like to go?”

“What’s my point of reference?” he asked.

“Sorry. I don’t really understand the question.”

“You know,” he said “Point of reference. At the moment I’m just walking. Nothing around me. The scenery is as plain and white as, say, a piece of printer paper. If I know where I am walking from, what I am walking on, whether I am wearing shoes, that sort of thing, then maybe, just maybe, I might be able to give you some sort of idea. Until then, I guess I’m just walking”

Seemed like a bit too much of an effort to complete a poorly thought out sentence about a man who, for some unknown reason, walked. So I decided to stop writing about him.

I wonder what he’s doing now?


He gazed into her eyes, took her hand and said “I’m not giving it back, you know.”

“But it’s my hand” she said, “I need it.”

“Be that as it may, this house is a mess, and I can always use a hand.”

“But the point is that it’s my hand, and I want it back.”

“We’re married, right?”


“And when I proposed, I asked for your hand in marriage, right?”

“I guess so, but…”

“But nothing, you gave me your hand. I like it and I’m going to keep it.”

“What am I supposed to do now? I can’t work like this”

“I guess you’ll just have to get someone to give you a hand”