Thursday, September 13, 2012

Vulcan, God of Rubberized Tyres 

image via designspiration, source unknown

Dear Vulcan,
I know not how I angered thee, but I beseech yee, release me from thine curses upon my wheels. Within this fortnight I hath suffered not twice, nor thrice, but six punctured tyres. I am wearied at my labour and vexed by my misfortune. How have I forsaken thee? What crime have I committed against thee or thine house? Was it confidence? Did I strut too much like the fair feathered cock that thine fury have been wrought upon me? Did my braggadocio telling of many leagues travels upon my vessel of welded aluminum and rubber displease thee? Were my calves too finely carved? Did mine sinewy legs insult thine eyes? Did I forget to offer you the finest of sacrifices? I have given you my sweat and belly fat (the sweetest of the fats I am told). I have let mine skin darken and crispen until it peeled like rotting papyrus from my body. The wind has ag├ęd mine cheeks. My palms have calloused and my feet ached upon steel pedals. But yet you punish me still. Staples of cheap tin, broken plastic shards, bits of wire and unseen detritus have all wrecked an unfair and unjust ravaging of mine wheels. Release me from this contract and I will always provide you with the most plump pigeons, shiny furred squirrels, or any other road offerings you desire. This plea I beg you to hear and you be so appeased that clean roads and smooth rollings will I find ahead of me. I know you are oft portrayed as a hulking angry master, but I know that thou thine countenance be fierce, thine heart be open and smiling and lovely to all that are loyal. Am I not loyal oh fiery bearded one? Am I to be tried again and again? Let it not be so and let me on my way go. It is all I ask.

Your faithful servant.

PS. This may explain some of my calamity, but not all.

Also, not on a single occasion hath calming music played softly whilst I have repaired mine wheel.



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