Town Crier

On a Sunday, not so long ago, I stand in the marketplace and shout unsolicited advice and general wisdom at passers by. A small boy approaches. “Morrissey is not what he seems”, I bellow. The boy turns, frightened, and runs from my sight. Yes, Boy, I think. You do right to run.

An elderly couple hobble slowly down the street. Their slow progress is almost painful, but there is something endearing about their aged togetherness. “Never betray your location to the enemy”, I shriek. They barely react; they’ve seen it all before.

My pearls of knowledge flow freely.

“Understanding is underwhelming”.

“Be still, lest the infinite swallow you whole.”

“Do not trust a gopher.”

By the end of the day, I am simply crying “IT IS THE END”, over and over. A gentle policeman approaches.
“The end of what?” he asks, politely, sympathetically. But I have no other words. I am led from the square in tears and I know I have done as much as I can.