Rufus fell off the boat and floated for some time before the ocean current brought him to shore. He crawled out of the water and lay on his back in the sand. After a while, an old man approached Rufus and stuck him with a walking stick.
Old man: Are you alive?
Rufus: Is this Brazil?
Old man: No, this is Portugal.
Rufus: I’m so close, then! I’ll walk the rest of the way to Brazil. Which way is it?
The old man considered this for a moment before asking another question.
Old man: You are an American, aren’t you?
Rufus: How did you know?
Old man: An educated guess.
Rufus: I’m in love with a Brazilian woman, so I must get to Brazil as soon as I can.
At the thought of his beautiful Gazelle, Rufus began making a sand angel, which is like a snow angel, but with sand.
Rufus: I love her, I love her, I love her!
Old man: Most Americans are terrible at geography.
Rufus: I’m an artist; I don’t trouble myself with unimportant information. I focus all my attention on my inspiration and search around myself for some medium to communicate my inspiration to others.
Old man: I’m sure you do.
Rufus: Right now, I’m using this sand to communicate how much I love Gazelle the supermodel.
Rufus paused in his snow angel creation to reach into his pocket and removed a sodden page of a magazine. The image on the page was of a perfume advertisement.
Rufus: Look at her. This is the woman I love. Her name is Gazelle. Isn’t she beautiful?
Old man: Let me see; well, I don’t know.
Rufus: You don’t know! Just look at her! Have you ever seen such cheek bones? Such legs?
Old man: Well, let me see… Let me…
Rufus: YOU RIPPED THE PAGE! YOU TORE THE PAGE!
Old man: So I did. Oh, well. I’m an old man.
Rufus: YOU TORE MY ONLY IMAGE OF THE WOMAN I LOVE AND NOW I HAVE NOTHING! HOW COULD YOU? WHY? HOW WILL I FIND INSPIRATION? OH, GOD! OH, GOD!
Rufus lay back on the sand and cried softly. The old man watched him for a moment and tried not to smile, but it was hard. After a moment, the old man became annoyed with Rufus’ continued tears, so the old man beat Rufus atop the head with his walking stick.
Rufus: Ow! Why did you beat me? My day has been bad enough already and now you are beating me with a walking stick!
Old man: I have something to tell you, and I want you to hear it. Are you listening?
Rufus: No; I won’t hear anything you tell me because you destroyed my only image of the woman I love. I want nothing to do with you!
The old man cleared his throat and recited the following lines:
“By thee, dire tyrant of an asses mind,
What dreadful woes are poured on human kind:
Beaches and villages in confusion hurled,
What streams of kitsch have drenched the hapless world!
What new dreaded horror dost thou now prepare!
What stench and gas you belch in our clean air?
Cursed be the boy who first on floating wood,
Stepped on my beach, and thought, hell, he would
Walk to Brazil across the dunes and sands
To find a woman from an advertisement sans
Everything: sans breast, sans mind, sans love, sans hands
But he finds her so alive, so real he’ll curse
The world and lay himself all night on a hurst
Would god a tsunami send us and wash him away?
Will I repent what I pray? Neigh neigh.”
The end.