Please Bathe Regularly

I was enjoying myself, certainly, but I felt a bit out of my element. In fact, at times, a bit uncomfortable. The Bishop and Incan seemed to revel in the strange and unique air at the conference, and I'm sure part of their happiness lay in the fact they were able to see one another - old friends sharing conversation.

I was beginning to feel less out of place, but then came across a "ground rule" request, posted prominently in the conference schedule. Reading over the statement several times to be sure I hadn't imagined it, I turned to Incan and asked, "Are they joking? Having a little fun with a stereotype, right?"

Incan tilted her head to look at what I was reading. Her shoulders slumped in slight embarrassment. "Unfortunately, no." She admitted, letting it out slow, resigned breath.

27 inches of good times

"It lasted 17 years?"

"Yes. It was dependable, entertaining and of noble quality," The Bishop remarked.

I was amazed... Both at the implement's longevity and The Bishop's characteristic loyalty to his tools.

Like a Pet

We finished our coffee, embraced, then turned away. Silence followed for a good while, broken by The Bishop, a mix of bitterness and sorrow in his voice.

"First Sarge, now three more. I feel like we are fighting a losing battle this year."

I pondered what he said, and offered a positive thought: "Well, at least they chose their path, and hopefully will be happier for it."

The Lizard looked hopeless, tears in her eyes. "The Keeper was so sweet and focused, and The Doughnut was like a little sister."

"And The Booger?" I asked.

"Well, he was sort of like.... a pet."

I couldn't help but smile.

Inner Hardware

"All that was inside of her?"

The Bishop nodded as he inspected the items. I was amazed.

"Is she in pain?"

"Much less now." The Bishop explained. "The hardware supported part of the spine as it fused, but the bone above started to fail. They had to pull out the old metal, then add new support at the failure."

"I hope she stays clear of big magnets."

One Arming It

"Thank you!" Booger yelled.

As we sped by on our steeds, I looked over to see an old woman by the side of the road, straightening from a bent position and smiling back at us.

"What did she do?" I asked.

The Bishop responded, his words separated by the pulsing rhythm of his steed "She - was - pick - ing - up - rub -ish."

I turned to take another look at the charitable soul.

She had one arm.

"How did she lose her arm?" again I queried.

"Not sure," said Booger, "but she's doing more with her one arm than the lazy fools who dropped their trash across our countryside."

I nodded and sped onward, making a note to lend both of my good arms to extricate the next bit of debris I came across.

Conveyed by The Congon

The Bishop and I hailed transportation at the port as we disembarked, since speed was of the essence.

"Where are you from?" I asked the driver, hearing his accent.

"I'm Congon," he happily replied as we made our way into the city, mountains forming and impressive backdrop on this clear and sunny day.

"What brings you here, so far from your land by the river?"

"I followed a girl," he replied, and I turned a knowing grin toward The Bishop. But The Congon added, "She did not love me, and took my daughter far away."

My smile faded, and The Bishop chimed in, "But at least you are here, in a prosperous land?"

"Yes, " The Congon agreed, "it is much better than the refugee camps."

"War?" I inquired.

"No," he explained, "I was a student, and protested the corrupt government, so the tyrant closed the school and persecuted us. I fled to a neighboring land where they sent us to camps."

"So these camps were unpleasant?" The Bishop inquired.

"Yes. The people were in a terrible state - disease, no food, insects. Fortunately, good people from your country noted me as worthy to come here."

He continued, "I got a job, but met a girl - so beautiful! She had my daughter, then broke my heart by leaving me. I left my job and used my money to try to be closer to them, but they moved again. And now I'm stuck here, dreaming of my daughter and hoping one day I can make enough money to buy unspoiled land in my home country."

I felt thankful for my minor inconveniences, and when we departed The Congon's conveyence, I nodded approval as The Bishop added a few more coins to the fare.

Iron Chair of Pain

The Bishop was admiring the cooling breeze in the garden, so unusual for this time of year. My attention was drawn to a robin, worm prey firmly in beak, when I heard The Bishop cry out: "My Lord!"

I turned to see my friend bolting away from an iron chair he had attempted to sit in, rubbing his arm. I noted that the chair was flanked by two blue agave.

I chuckled, and The Bishop remarked, "Who would set up a torture apparatus in such a beautiful garden?"

"They are special, pups from a plant over 100 years old." The Lizard chimed in from across the garden.

The Bishop didn't seem impressed, so I tried to cheer him up, "Well, if they didn't get you with their spines, I'm sure their contribution to the margaritas would have taken you out in the end."