The Father of Teeth
Text for today: Carnassials lxxiii-xci
Shortly beforehand, the Father of Teeth came upon a group of responsible citizens comfortably seated on a hillside. They were watching a decency spectacle in the valley below, which was so entertaining that it made the blood run from their eye-sockets and down the folds of their faces to congeal in glistening, blackened frames around their fixed and gleaming grins.
The spectacle was thus truly decent, and featured men, women and children, all of whom were modestly clothed and did not use bad language under even the most deserved agonies, in case members of the audience should be offended.
The Father of Teeth approached one of the spectators, and waved a tentative claw before the red-black orbits. "Can you see all right?" asked the Father of Teeth.
"We can't take our eyes off it," was the reply.
"Does it please you?" asked the Father of Teeth.
"It is a most decent and edifying spectacle," said the spectator, "for it is happening to them and not to ourselves."
"And who are they?" asked the Father of Teeth.
"Why, those most suited to the role, of course," said the spectator, blinking in surprise and dislodging crunchy granules of dark maroon, which the Father of Teeth was quick to capture among the zigzagging lines of his palm.
"A spectacle of unsuitables would scarcely be decent," said the spectator, in a tone that lectured and yet soothed at the same time, for the spectator hoped in due course for advancement to the status of commentator. "It is the decency of the spectacle that improves us, like all great art, by stimulating pessimism of the intellect and optimism of the will."
"Indeed," said the Father of Teeth.
"Indeed," said the spectator. "Our pessimism of the intellect convinces us of their pain. Our optimism of the will convinces us of our immunity."
So the Father of Teeth went down into the valley, in order to take a closer look and be all the more convinced. But he found only dead and reeking meat, which had very little to say one way or the other, although it twitched a bit here and there while the spectators applauded.
Shortly beforehand, the Father of Teeth came upon a group of responsible citizens comfortably seated on a hillside. They were watching a decency spectacle in the valley below, which was so entertaining that it made the blood run from their eye-sockets and down the folds of their faces to congeal in glistening, blackened frames around their fixed and gleaming grins.
The spectacle was thus truly decent, and featured men, women and children, all of whom were modestly clothed and did not use bad language under even the most deserved agonies, in case members of the audience should be offended.
The Father of Teeth approached one of the spectators, and waved a tentative claw before the red-black orbits. "Can you see all right?" asked the Father of Teeth.
"We can't take our eyes off it," was the reply.
"Does it please you?" asked the Father of Teeth.
"It is a most decent and edifying spectacle," said the spectator, "for it is happening to them and not to ourselves."
"And who are they?" asked the Father of Teeth.
"Why, those most suited to the role, of course," said the spectator, blinking in surprise and dislodging crunchy granules of dark maroon, which the Father of Teeth was quick to capture among the zigzagging lines of his palm.
"A spectacle of unsuitables would scarcely be decent," said the spectator, in a tone that lectured and yet soothed at the same time, for the spectator hoped in due course for advancement to the status of commentator. "It is the decency of the spectacle that improves us, like all great art, by stimulating pessimism of the intellect and optimism of the will."
"Indeed," said the Father of Teeth.
"Indeed," said the spectator. "Our pessimism of the intellect convinces us of their pain. Our optimism of the will convinces us of our immunity."
So the Father of Teeth went down into the valley, in order to take a closer look and be all the more convinced. But he found only dead and reeking meat, which had very little to say one way or the other, although it twitched a bit here and there while the spectators applauded.
2 Comments:
At 7:45 pm ,
Brian M said...
I think I see a new religion bubbling out of this mere blog, Philip. After all, the hackish L. Ron Hubbard made billions. You just need to bring in a mechanism for the Father of Teeth to "save" us fallen humans (for a price).
At 9:51 pm ,
Philip said...
I truly have no idea where the Father of Teeth came from, and I remain puzzled as to the nature of his game; although he obviously has the demeanour of a malign Mr Natural and the forensic talent of a Dr Benway. I suspect he wishes less to save fallen humanity than to hear the splat when it finally hits bottom.
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