The Gurus traveled across the plain on their endless migration, following the distance rain clouds which induced the rich grasses to do their appear, where before there had been none.
Hold on a moment, said the Sphinx on listening to the Tale told, I was expecting a story of suburban dissatisfaction and spiritual healing effected by a charismatic bighead.
No, said Sheba, I think you’re thinking of a Wellness Gnu, that’s entirely different.
OK, said the Sphinx, As you were.
The predatory prides of accountants watched the herds pass by, noting the vulnerabilities of each guru as they passed. The old, the young and the infirm were written down on a spread sheet with colour coded panels. Any guru showing signs of weakness was instantly cut from the herd and stripped of their wealth.
Eventually the migration, strung out across, like bad knitting, came to the High Street and must affect a crossing. Casting this way and that along the curbs to find the safest. Nervous and reluctant, hooves chattering, they massed upon the pavement until one stumbled out into the road and began to make the short dash across to safety.
All the diamond eyes of the ravenous parking attendants turned in its direction and they slowly, without making so much as a ripple, closed in on the legs of the gurus who had followed across the apparently innocuous looking stretch of tar macadam. Suddenly ….
All the listening grims were laughing as the Wellness Gnu made his crazy tale and the laughter made them feel a lot better in themselves.
Go on with your Tale, we are having enjoy, they said.
Suddenly a Parking Attendant surfaced with spikes in a row, and taking the Guru in its teeth, dragged it down to the depths where it put it in a breaded death roll, under a log, to prepare and enjoy later.
That’s not so funny at all, said the grims sobering up, tell us a funny story.
Life is not like that, said the Wellness Guru, When the bad stuff happens, you just have to suck it up and move on. If a starving Parking Attendant gets you by the ankle you have to fight for survive, use every which thing to make good escape and reach the other with only a sore place if you’re lucky. Don’t beneath any illusionists, life’s journey is rubble strewn with many cliffs. Gather your and strive.
The grims sat in dis, We have not come this to be lecturers, who gave to you this rights to come here and tell us? Who? Tell us a tale, your tale if you will, but no more of must do this.
But I am a Wellness Gnu, surely everyone wants well? This is why I have coming at march to the Infested Fountain, because no one will listen at me, no one. Why must we migrate across the plain everlasting, trying to find a sympathetic ear.
Not our problem, said the grims, seated at ones and twos to eat their sandwiches which had been provided by the organisers. Also, they had drinks.
Would you like something to drink, said the Sphinx because she was.
Yes please, said Sheba, I think there are some low alcohol beers in the frigo.
Cool, said she Sphinx.
The Guardians of the Cave 