The Grand Vizier

The Grand Vizier

 

“I know where you can find him,” she said. Her eyes lowered to the ground.

​​ 

“Fantastic! Let us go at once and find him,” the intrepid explorer said with a grin.

​​ 

“I…”​​ she lifted her eyes from the ground. “I don’t know if… you’ll have to be sure that you really want to.”

 

​​ “Of course I’m sure. I have made it my life’s work to find the grand vizier. I have dedicated a decade and a half to finding him. I have journeyed from one corner of the globe to the other. Why on earth would I stop now?”

 

A look of compassion flooded her eyes. She returned them to the ground.

 

“You’re sure? You want to find him no matter what? You wouldn’t maybe consider…” she trailed off.

 

The explorer stared at the young woman with a look of confusion. What horrifying secret could be so bad that she would want to deny him his life’s purpose?

 

“I am sure. I will find him wherever he is. Long and hard is the ro-”

 

“He’s over there,” she said as she pointed her finger.

 

“What?”

 

“He’s right there. Standing there. In the corner.”

 

The explorer turned around. In the corner stood the grand vizier. The grand vizier stuck his tongue out.

 

The explorer turned back to the woman.​​ 

 

“I don’t understand,” he said.

 

“Well, here’s the thing,” she said. “I assumed that when you came here fifteen years ago and you were asking where the grand vizier was that you were either drunk or a lunatic. Because he was standing right there in the corner, where he always is. I assumed you either saw him and still asked, in which case you were a lunatic, or you didn’t see him and were just drunk or something, so I said in that weird voice, ‘Yes, you must search the world for him.’”

 

She cleared her throat.

 

“I didn’t know you were actually an explorer, and since he was standing​​ right there,​​ I didn’t know you’d actually go and search the world for a decade and a half. But when you came​​ back, I realized that you weren’t drunk or crazy and actually did and I felt bad. Really, really bad. ‘Cuz you have​​ spent fifteen years searching for a guy who has been standing in that corner pretty much the entire time.”

 

“But that’s absurd! Why would a grand vizier be hanging out in the corner of​​ this​​ room?”

 

She sighed as her arms fell to her sides. “Because he’s not​​ a grand vizier.”

 

“What? I don’t underst-”

 

“Dude,” she exclaimed. “You are in a​​ mental asylum.​​ That’s why he’s standing in the corner. Who told you he was a grand vizier? Did he tell you that?”

 

The explorer’s cheeks flushed red.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You get a letter from a guy claiming to be a grand vizier and you go to the return address on the envelope and it’s a​​ mental asylum.​​ Then you talk to me, a​​ patient in a mental asylum​​ saying you’re an ‘explorer’ asking where to find the ‘grand vizier’ while holding up a picture of Larry with a pair of diapers on his head. Larry’s right there in the corner. Where he always is. That’s why I thought you were crazy.”

 

The explorer stared blankly.​​ 

 

“No, no, no,” he said as he wiped the sweat from his forehead and adjusted his Stetson hat. “That doesn’t check out at all. One can only conclude that the secret elite international organization the grand vizier informed me he was a member of planted that lookalike and has obviously gotten to you, forcing you to say…”

A Reasonable Explanation

A Reasonable Explanation

 

 

“There is an entirely reasonable explanation for this.”​​ His hands came to rest on his chest​​ over his racing heart.

She glared. “How can there….​​ Fine.​​ Ok, fine.​​ Tell me.”

He sighed and began. “I-”

Do not​​ waste my time.” Her finger danced menacingly in front of his face.

“Ok… Here goes… Did you know that crazy glue was invented originally to seal wounds on the battlefield?”

“No… What does that have to​​ do wi-”

“Ok, just hear me out. Just hear me out ok… Ok, so crazy glue…” His gulping was audible to her. “So the etymology of the word crazy ultimately comes from Latin, it mea-”

“No it does not. It does not come from Latin. That is incorrect. It comes from the Teutonic branch of Indo-European, not the Latin branch.​​ Scandinavian, actually.”

Oh God, what are the odds she would know that?!​​ he asked himself.

“And that has nothing to do with why you have a rabbit in your pants,”​​ she declared.

The rabbit continued thumping away. Poor Ginger Rabbit was still stuck in the man’s pants, going nowhere at all.​​ 

He​​ stared blankly. “I’m a magician. Of sorts,” he said.​​ 

The look on her face told him that not only did she not believe him, but she didn’t care.​​ 

“Why do you people keep coming in here and stuffing rabbits down your pants. What, is this some sort of​​ perverted​​ new kick?” she asked indignantly.

His mind began to race.​​ You people… Oh God, do people come in here and stuff rabbits down their pants for some sort of unwholesome thrill? No, no she’ll get the wrong idea, I have to explain…​​ He tried to speak but she cut him off​​ with the menacing finger.

“That’s it, I’m calling the cops.” She turned toward the phone.​​ 

He glanced​​ at the pet store exit. He guessed it was at least twenty​​ feet away. If he ran for it, he might hurt poor Ginger Rabbit. No, best to try to reason this one out.​​ An innocent man has nothing to fear,​​ he told himself.​​ Her hand​​ had yet to touch the phone.

“Wait, wait, just hear me out. Trust me, you’ll be apologizing to me after you … let me finish… uhh… Ok,​​ from the​​ very​​ beginning… When sperm penetrates​​ an​​ ovary, the cells…”

Apparently, websites need content.

It has come to my attention that websites require content, not simply putting them up and leaving them dormant for years.

So, in the spirit of doing the absolute minimum, I will be uploading several short, and by short I mean very short, stories of a humorous and amiable nature to delight and entertain the fine folks who aren’t reading this. And trying to figure out formatting errors as I go along!

Click over on the right side where it says ‘short stories’ and they will be over there.

Enjoy.

Or not. I won’t know.

What the hell is this crap? Aka, why read this garbage?

Revised 3/15/21

This site has gone long neglected due to health issues but is coming back. Twitter has opened up a portal to hell and as they say about cannibals, if you can’t eat them, join them. So, expect more will be up here very soon including my wonderful experience of being harassed by a political organization, and other fascinating stories I simply don’t share normally and don’t care if anyone reads.

So, what is this crap?

This is the about page. It’s a blog. Surprising concept.

If you followed me here from Twitter, and hate me, I live to vex you. If you followed me here from Twitter, and like me, I live to vex you. If you followed and you’re curious, have fun, you might find something you like. Or not. It’s free. Don’t complain.

This is a blog where you can read interesting things I have written, or I post links to other projects such as The Fathers, other musical affiliations or Comedic/Dramatic Audio Content, all brought to you by Pregnant Swan Productions which is something I made up.

You can find the posts on the left hand side and navigate at will – there are categories for administrative stuff (ultra boring), non-fiction (semi-boring) and fiction, which better not be boring. Still messing with the layout, so I apologize for the aesthetic inconvenience but it’s free so there you go.

If so inclined, there is a link on the side to subscribe via email for future updates.

I am my own web designer, so forgive the somewhat basic appearance.

Thank you for visiting, and other content can be found here:

http://www.thefathers.net

http://www.pregnantswan.com