by John Muir
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SOMETHING LIKE THAT
The two old men, both in their seventies, wandered through the open door into Bill’s empty double garage.
Ted looked around and noticed a large ornately carved chest.
“Gee that looks great, where’d you get it?” asked Ted.
“It was an ordinary old plain chest and I thought I’d dicky it up a bit. Just part of my hobby to pass the time,” answered Bill.
“What hobby?”
“Just a bit of wood whittling; have a look inside.”
Ted opened up the enormous lid and let it rest back held by two ageing leather straps.
“Strewth, look at all the stuff in here, some of it looks really good. You know you could probably pick up a dollar or two selling this at the market. How long you been doing it?”
“Years. I’d have to figure it out.”
“Why? When did you start?” asked Ted.
“In my younger days I’d done a bit if a trip through some of the African countries. I saw an old man in one of the villages teaching some of the young ones how to carve figurines. It fascinated me. We were staying nearby for a few days, so instead of taking the organized trips to see the wildlife I went to the village each day to watch. The old man started to teach me.”
“When I came home I carried on and whittled around on pieces of softwood and hardwood progressed from there.”
“Gee, look at this,” said Ted pulling out a 40 cm size figurine. “The details are amazing.”
“Just as I found him.”
“What? Just like this?”
“Yep. Well nearly. Something like that. I had to rearrange him a little bit.”
“So he just sat like this while you carved it?”
“No, not originally. I did the carving from a photograph I took.”
“Gee, it looks really native.”
“Yeah, it seems part of a tradition just sitting on a tree stump, getting out their version of a pipe and lighting up some of the local naughty grass.”
“You’ve even got that far-away look in his eyes, as though he was thinking about creation or something.”
“Something like that, only the reverse.”
“Reverse of creation?” asked Ted. “What’s that?”
“Death.”
“Death?”
“Yep.”
“How’d you know he was thinking about death? I mean you didn’t speak the local lingo to ask him did you?”
“No.”
“Well how’d you know?”
“I found this native’s body on the side of the road. Tied it to a stump, stuck a branch under his chin to prevent his head falling forward and opened his eyelids. Then I took a photo.”
“You didn’t really, did you? asked Ted.
Bill’s grin widened in a way Ted remembered from years ago when he was lying.
“Well; something like that.”
