Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Daphne and Sir Pole

Sir Pole really had no reason to be called Sir at all. Or rather no official reason. He introduced himself as such, that was all.

A woman named Daphne had once been in love with Sir Pole. She had found him refined and tall. Those two qualities, then, were her criteria for finding a man suitable to love: refined and tall. Her friends opposed what they saw as her unsubstantiated adoration, and would condemn her privately every chance they had. Sure he’s refined and tall, they would say, but so what? I know plenty of tall fellows who are, more or less, refined. And other things too! Daphne never paid much mind to what her friends said.

This love affair lasted only a brief time. One day Sir Pole ran into a friend of Daphne’s, and a horrible revelation was made to him: Daphne loved him. Me? he asked incredulously. Are you sure? The friend assured him that she was absolutely sure. Sir Pole, thinking the whole thing over for a moment, said Well I can understand that. Makes perfect sense.

From that moment on Sir Pole snubbed Daphne. When she would come over to his modest apartment and request an interview, Sir Pole would slip a small sheet of paper under his door that read Not at all well. Sometime, perhaps, later. Daphne never protested these rebukes, but instead walked dejectedly away. One day, though, she saw Sir Pole on the street and ran over to him. Sir! Sir Pole! How are you? Sir Pole, stunned by having to confront this pathetic creature, began fumbling through his pockets. Eventually he landed upon a small slip of paper and handed it to Daphne. She read the familiar note and her face fell. She handed the slip back to Sir Pole and turned and walked dejectedly away.

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