It’s sort of strange how things Pan out these days. Not sure why exactly. Bemusingly so. Things are much the same other than for the relentless march of time. I am now in my 6th bipedal Year having reached my 35th canine but last week. Can this possibly have any influence on the panning out of my life? Ah c’mon Medici forget it said Staffie Enthusiasm who had been reading this over my shoulder. I am older than you and my life no longer Pans, it just exists and I remain consistently true to my name, Enthusiasm (Ed: in case you forgot Medici, afterall you gave it to him way back in chapter 3) I consider Enthusiasm a half-wit but for some unknown reason, as often happens with utterances from the half witted there was just a Tinge of something or other which struck a chord, somewhere. So I went about my Business in an existential way just being Medici. I found it a little difficult for many Reasons, some I am sure , deeply psychological and possibly even philosophical but hopefully a little more Meaningful than the heretoforbeholden bemusement. It’s the tripodal effect attributable to a member of the South park community.
I heard a Discernible one two three clonk cadence behind me while Visiting a couple of friends of no known breed in the Badlands.(Ed: just say it Medici, the South Park: home of the unpedigreed and mixed diverses) I listened carefully by Rotating my paper thin ears through one eighty, and then Some. Sure it continued as did I, walking Slowly forward. One two three clonk (and again to the nth). Not wanting to offend or Perhaps draw attention to my inquisitivity, I slapped myself and Rotated one eighty as if I had left something somewhere behind me. A well Enacted brain fart. Oops sorry, said a voice belonging to one unknown to me as we Collided. He fell briefly to the deck and in a rather unusual but none the less Elegant manner righted himself quadrupedially, I thought. On closer Inspection I noticed that he was distinctly tripodal, plus one. I looked again and counted three furry legs with paws attached and one silver Prosthesis, decidedly metallic. Oh my D-g I exclaimed, so sorry: are you Alright? Sure, he answered, it happens all the time. With this Artificial leg I have no torsional abilities, you know, nothing to rotate, on so I Fall. It’s quite funny actually, he said. So I laughed, to make him Feel better.
Well push came to shove and Before I knew it, I was getting a direct answer to my Politely unuttered Question. I am assured by my retained expensive shrink that we all have them in Circumstances like this. I recall overhearing my bipedal owner relating the incident with his Infant son turning to a small person AKA dwarf* and asking him if he was a Man or a boy. It appears that my trilegged friend had been in the special forces and trained to sniff out Mines. He called his handler over to one and the Idiot promptly stepped on it sending himself instantly to Jesus and maiming my new friend with Flying shrapnel and handler’s body parts..So he got free Medical attention, a medal and relocation to a canine Retirement home. This he vacated and was now once again independent, but in the South Park. Shu, I said thats an Amazing story. Not really he replied but maybe one day I will get an Aluminium leg or better still a carbon fibre One. See everyone has aspirations and hankerings. Thats life. Bemusingly
Although now that I am fully grown and mature
I still marvel in the diversity of my social milieu
those special breeds
harbouring unique needs
know nothing of what it means to be physically insecure.
* dwarf, little person: pygmy, littler person: bushman, san: Eskimo, Inuit: etc etc (Ed: pasop Medici Red Deb gonna getchah and bite what should have been your balls off)