An introduction:
During lockdown, I wrote a series of fictional monologues from the perspective of an older gentleman. It was an idea that popped into my head with very little warning or context. Naturally, I decided to put aside other projects and make significant progress with this. Something a bit different.
Each of the monologues that I’ll be sharing as part of this series is a continuation of the others. Like our thoughts, they have a tendency to go here and there, without making much logical sense — and yet we still glean meaning from them. With that in mind, I hope you stick around for the upcoming instalments.
Enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think.
Day number take-your-pick of the lockdown, and I had taken to keeping a tally, marked with chalk, on the wall. In the hope that when the Gracious God looks into His crystal ball and the sun comes out, settling down for a hard day's work, He will notice the markings on the wall. Maybe even before He checks in on the elitists of society - who knows? (After all, He — God — needn't risk interrupting their very modest luncheon of pork crackling and wilted silverbeet sandwiches!)
If time permitted, I might catch the Squirrel in the garden amid his midday prayers (Squirrels, too, have to abide by His rules); eating a nut, which God so kindly grew for him.
Perhaps I’ll watch the plants sing their several verses of "Hooray for the Lord, hooray, hooray!" as they lap up the warmth of His Age-old propaganda.
I gently reminded myself — noticing the week-old gravy stain on my pyjamas I was saving for when the Virus sweeps the Food Industry off its feet - how lucky I am to not be pathologically cynical in times like these.
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