My walking stick & I finally made it up the Indian mountain. We had traveled all the way here to consult the famed guru of the East. I slowly approached the guru in his cave, bowing before the tiny little man. He looks like Gandhi. “O Great Guru of the East…”
“West.” I look up suddenly.
“Pardon?”
“If you go far enough East, you go West,” the guru says simply.
Clearing my throat, I continue. “I came from America to seek your wisdom…”
“Well, you’ve found it! Here I am!” he cried excitedly. This is a strange character…
“Erm, that’s not quite what I mean. I’ve been told you know the Meaning of Life. I’d wish to know it, if you please?” The guru thought a moment.
“Ah, the Meaning of Life! The Meaning of Life is a rutabaga.” I’m stunned.
“A- rutabaga? Is that it?!” He becomes deeply troubled.
“Um, maybe it’s broccoli?” I nodded and crawled out.
“A rutabaga?!” I muttered to myself.
I told you you shouldn’t have given up on the garden, my walking stick mocked.
“Oh, shut up,” I grumbled.