Lust, Chico:30, 6006 YD
Today is the day when all intelligent aspiring hermits remember the life of Paul of Latrus, and vow never to repeat his mistakes. Paul had always wanted to be a hermit, ever since he was knee-high to a pariah, and had been hording hermitty things in preparation for years: lanterns, furs, nuts and berries, pornographic etchings for those long winter solstice nights . . . not to mention dreaming up strange and glorious manifestations of his chosen deity’s awesome powers; truly an important part of a hermit’s repertoire.
He was more than ready for life in solitude when he finally waved goodbye to his family and friends and trudged up the mountain to the cave which would be his home, sanctuary, and bathroom for the rest of his life; but he hadn’t anticipated the biggest problem that every prospective hermit faces: fame.
Paul found it very difficult to rinse his socks out in the nearby River Hotsauce without hordes of curious onlookers watching his every move; he was unable to meditate while standing on his head -as was his wont- without fans asking “does it make your face hot?” or “can you hear China now?”; he wasn’t able to chant through the Trumps of the Tarot without people shouting out cards which didn’t exist (like ‘Halitosis’ and ‘Stubbed-Toe’) in a deluded attempt to help him out. In short, his new career as a hermit was already the pits.
Paul had an idea. He decided the best way to get rid of the crowd of gawkers was to frighten them away with his awesome connection to the Higher Beings, and promptly began to start vomiting blood everywhere and anywhere he went. True, he was dizzy, but he felt that he would finally have the solitude he had constantly craved.
Did it work for Paul of Latrus, I can almost hear you ask . . . of course it didn’t, did you read the opening sentence? His stardom, of course, rose to heights he had never dreamed of, and he was a constant attraction in his part of the land for the rest of his life, with an entire industry built up around him: selling candy apples, pony rides, face-painting, etc.
So, let this 30th of Chico be a lesson to all prospective hermits: if you are planning to walk off into the woods to become holy, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF, dammit!