“Pass me that oar of yours, Child so you can rest,” The Prophet said.
“Oh, I’m okay, Prophet. I love to oar with this stick. Good thing it floated up from the ocean floor.”
“So now I’m obsolete?”
“Oh, what’s obsolete, Prophet?”
“Obsolescent, Child.”
“Oh, and what’s obsolescent?”
The Prophet chuckled at The Child and observed how relax she was while she oared.
“Child, you’re quite obsequious, at times.”
“Really, Prophet?”
“Yes, you are, and you rub into my soul like the sweet smelling oil of Sheba.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Prophet?”
“Yes, Child.”
“What’ obsequious?”
“I knew that question was coming.”
“Well, why don’t you give me answers? First you say you’re obsolete; then, you tell me it’s obsol…ah obsolescent, and now, you accuse me of being obsequious.”
“At times, Child, I said, at times.”
“I know you said at times, that why I need to know what it is.”
“Why?”
“Maybe, I need to become less obsequious.”
“Oh,” said The Prophet, covering his mouth.
“It’s not funny, Prophet. You’re laughing at me again.”
“I never laugh at you, Child.”
“Why are you so obscure?” The Child asked.
“Now you’re doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Oh, and what’s obscure?” The Prophet asked mimicking The Child.
“How do I know?” The Child shouted. “I heard you use it.”
“That’s why you’re using it.”
“Of course, Prophet. How can I learn to do what you do if I don’t use your words?”
“Great deduction Child. You’re quite perspicacious.”
The Child’ eyebrows crinkled and a frown appeared on her stern.
“Oh, Prophet?”
“Yes, my dear Child?”
“What’s perspicacious?”
Unable to withhold his laughter, The Prophet yodeled.
“Why are you yodeling, Prophet?”
“Because you’re quite observant, Child.”
“Is that good, Prophet?”
“It makes my heart sing.”
Shalom,
Pat Garcia
