Og

Og's Blog, Part 13

part of: Og's Blog

by J. Marshall Craig

No creature has never stubbed its toe… well, maybe a fish.

But my forehead is a bastion of pain since being set alight by Ig and Frig. I went to our medicine man but he refused to treat me because I’ve engaged in what he always warned would lead to blindness, pimples and terrible chaffing on one or both of any man’s palms… I Googled myself.

And so I have had to self medicate… something, admittedly, I am not unaccustomed to when it comes to mead; in this case, I learned the secret of making banana juice. I don’t know if it’s a salve but it’s damn original.

Given my forehead flare up, I fled into the hills on my own. This is not the sole reason, however; because of my most recent, perhaps indecent and, I believe, to be my final Google.

This is both embarrassing and yet crucial to admit.

It was a hollow experience but, as hollow experiences go, was one of the best.

What Google revealed is that, heartbreakingly, I am, tragically, an only twin.

Worse still – an only twin with a habit of splitting infinitives when I scrawl. A bad habit only second to my life-long nail biting and licking salt rocks when no one’s looking.

And so sadly I must regard this as perhaps my final dispatch; better judgement aside I recognize the danger of climbing the steep cliffs above the river whilst constantly discarding banana peels. I’m sure someday someone, somewhere, will find humor in this and even, my dreams tell me, accelerate it to pie throwing and little pillows that fart.

I don’t understand but am already ashamed; I should have seen this coming ever since I helped the tribal leaders fell an ancient tree and quipped that its bark was worse than its height.

For now, at least, farewell.