I’ve sat in this dusty abode a long time. I grow weary. Even the occasional snacks aren’t enough to assuage my boredom.
Most of them are chatty enough, but chatty is no longer enough all by itself. I long for a challenge.
Somebody must have been telling tales, because the snacks are arriving with attitude. They seem to think they prepared for their encounter. But none have bested me yet. To be honest, only one or two have come close. (We won’t talk about that short chap with his “what’s in my pockets” line.)
I’m even growing weary of my traditional riddles.
“What goes on four legs by morning, two legs at noon, and three legs at evening?”
“Two sisters, the first gave birth to the second, and the second in turn gives birth to the first. Who are they?”
Uninspired tripe. But it is traditional, and the snacks get rather uppity when I don’t ask one of them.
I’ve taken to letting my snacks ask a riddle of their own, in hopes that I learn one that will at least relieve a little of my boredom.
A younger snack asked: “There were two cats, 1 2 3 cat and un deux trois cat, they had a swimming race from England to France. Who won?”
Apparently it was 1 2 3 cat, because “un deux trois quatre cinq”. Yup. It used an outright pun as the answer, and thought it clever to have mangled two languages to boot. It was crunchy.
Another tried a simple question: “What’s the difference between an egg and an elephant?” I objected that this didn’t even try to follow the literary forms, but allowed my snack another go if the answer pleased me. “If you don’t know, I’m not going to send you to the store for eggs” was at least absurd.
What are they teaching those mortals these days?
So I wait in my dusty abode, an ever vigilant guardian. Perhaps I will meet my prophesied Oedipus, and he will set me free.