I trained leeches to suck the red off of peppermint candies.
I trained a calico cat to ward off death. I even have a slug that can slow down
heart beats though telekinesis by traipsing across your skull – the only catch
is that you have to be fairly bald. My room full of remedies and skilled
animals aren’t for the weak of heart or the faint of faith.
(I picked a balding man out of the crowd, and continued on
in his direction.)
You sir, you look like a man who could use to know what is
missing from his life. What broken hearts and half finished sandwiches have you
left in you wake all because of anger or boredom or sorrow or, worst of all,
not knowing yourself. My pappy used to say that a man who doesn’t know himself
cannot know truthfully about anything in this world. If I were to say you were
a fat, balding, hunch of a man, you might grow upset with me. When as it turns
out all those things are true. You have girth around the middle. Your hair
recedes. And you posture is far from ideal. There are some that would tell you
to fix yourself. They would try to sell you things to fix yourself. And sure.
Fine. Comb your hair. Brush your teeth. Take care of yourself. These are the
things a mirror tells us, but what about the things that we can’t see. What
goes on inside?
What I have in front of you may look like an ordinary
earthworm in a glass jar. And, at one time, it was just that – an ordinary
earthworm in a jar. But now, through my particular skillset it has been
transformed to perform a marvelous service to mankind.
