“Oh it is! It
is!”
he cried. “It is one way.”
“Well, you’re old. You must have done a lot of partying in your
time.”
“Of course. I was once a high magistrate in Rome. When I was
younger I went to many such functions.”
“Wow. So what happened? You got kicked out? Busted?”
“No. I left willingly.”
“No way! Willingly? How can you be happy in this shithole?” Bob
exclaimed, then checked himself, “Oh, sorry. I mean, this dump.”
“I have everything I need here, in my fields, with my friends and
my family. As a young man I thought the point was to have as many
comforts as possible, but I could never get comfortable enough.
There was no blanket warm enough to warm my breast, no wine
strong enough to soothe my heart. All of it seemed pointless after a
while.”
“Even the maidens?” said Bob.
“Even the maidens,” he replied. “Well, except for one. Diana?”
An old woman shuffled up to the door.
“Hello,” she said.
Bob recoiled at the sight of the equally old and withered woman,
until she smiled the same angelic smile as her husband. There was
some vast, instantly recognizable difference between this poor family
and his own miserable foster home. Somehow, Bob began to
recognize something he had never seen in his own life.
“Hey, you guys go on without me,” Bob said, running up to the
assembled villagers who were waiting for him on the road. “You all
know how to get to Rome, don’t you? Pretty much all the streets end
up there sooner or later.”
They agreed and proceeded without him, while Bob returned to
the small but cozy hut.
A few days later, Bob returned to Rome. He managed to assemble a
group of his fellow committee leaders to share a grand new idea that
he had. Despite a lingering grogginess, they were always keen to hear
Bob’s new ideas.
“Okay. This is what we’re gonna do,” Bob began enthusiastically,
“Each one of us is going to choose our favorite maiden.”
“Right,” said Epithelian, “Go on.”
“And we’re going to take them out into the countryside.”
H O L Y S H I T !
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