You don't think anything of it--well, not really. Their conversation seems stimulating enough...
but later. Later you begin to uncover those little pebbles they've surreptitiously slipped in your subconscious. Oh, my friend, it may take weeks-years, even. But they are there.
Pebbles seem innocent enough. Small. True, they're hard, but "Hey! They're shiny, right?"
Maybe you recognize them as negative...but they're so little! What harm could something so small bring?
Remember that neat little tale by...oh what's his name? Aesop?
It was dreadful. The raven was oh, so thirsty. Tantalizing, shimmering water...at the bottom of a deep vase. He gathered one little pebble. Splash! Two, three, four...The water rose. And rose.
My friend, if a bunch of little pebbles can raise the water, a bunch of little pebbles can sink your thoughts.
But I digress.
Those friends. The ones that always have something to laugh at--or should I say someone to laugh at?
Humor is their weapon to pierce others...but always in the back.
Humor is also their mask...to hide their scorn.
Ah, here's the fatal flaw. Scorn, contempt---just not liking someone (but they won't say why).
This gives them away!
It seems at first that they tower above the petty stupidity, the mistakes, the unfortunate personality traits. Yes! they tower above with their perfect pink plumage and sharp orange bill, daintily picking through the muck below with ever-pointing claws.
Till it suddenly occurs to you:
"Hmmm...if they are so far above the smelly, tinted mudbath...
Why? Why do they continually dwell in it?
Couldn't they leave? Why don't they leave?
Or at least try to fix it?
But they don't.
Why?
It couldn't possibly be...
No...But yet...
Could it be that--that they like it?
Does it build their morale to pick on others, yet knowing they are no better themselves?
Or do they know they are no better than others,
and try to fool the world by pointing out the errors of the others,
rather than doing the hard thing, and changing themselves!
Why? Why do they continually dwell in it?
Couldn't they leave? Why don't they leave?
Or at least try to fix it?
But they don't.
Why?
It couldn't possibly be...
No...But yet...
Could it be that--that they like it?
Does it build their morale to pick on others, yet knowing they are no better themselves?
Or do they know they are no better than others,
and try to fool the world by pointing out the errors of the others,
rather than doing the hard thing, and changing themselves!
Beware the Pink Mudrakers. They look pretty. They're funny. They're even fun to be around. (Trust me, I know)
But their claws are sharp...their pebbles are heavy.
But their claws are sharp...their pebbles are heavy.
