Big Man

It takes a big man to admit when he's wrong.

It takes a big woman to admit when a big man is wrong.

It takes a small dog to catch a fly.

It takes two to tango.

It takes a big man to tango with a small dog for anyone to complain.

It takes with one hand and gives with the other. A big man's hand.

It takes time.

A big woman takes time from a fly, whilst having fun.

It takes just one man to stand-up and say to the big man: "Sit down! I can't see!"

***

INTERLUDE:

Paul left his fingers hovering over the keyboard for a few seconds. He didn't want to break the spell. But it was time for a break, and he knew it.

He smiled. It was a satisfied smile; one born of the knowledge that an artistic miracle has taken place.

He scrolled to the top of the blog window, to look over his triumph.

"Yes," he thought. "Yes. This is a good thing to write. It makes sense. It's funny and moving. It's clever without being pompous. Yes."

He cracked his knuckles and knuckled his cracks.

"One of the best," he said to himself, internally. He re-read the line "It takes a small dog to catch a fly", and pounded the desk with satisfaction. "Yes! Perfect! Perfect!"

It would take a lot to beat that. But he had to give it a try. One swig of Diet Coke, and then back on the horse (not heroin).

END INTERLUDE

***

You can't be serious.

You can't squeeze blood from a stone.

You can't make a silken purse out of a sow's ear.

Or a stone.

You can't make a silken purse out of a stone.

...

You CAN squeeze blood from a sow's ear.

You can't judge a book by its cover.

You can't judge An Oxford Companion to Pig Parts out of a stone purse.

You can't be John McEnroe.

You can't! You just can't!

(Unless you are. Good afternoon, Mr McEnroe)

You can't beat it.

You can't argue with that.

You can't stand it.

You can't stand loosing.

You can't stand-up, once again, repeating your request to the oblivious big man.

***

INTERLUDE 2:

Paul made himself laugh, then vomit, then laugh again.

"Who could have seen that coming?" he asked himself, externally. "A callback to the big man!"

He stood up and did a little victorious dance. He'd written good blog posts before. God knows he had. He's done one that was just a picture of moss. He'd written a haiku about Bertolli spread. But this...!

This was something else.

A pigeon landed near-by. A message from (the) God(s), perhaps?

Paul chuckled. He was in the zone.

He looked around.

Yes.

Yes, this is the zone. It's clearly the zone. That chair, that brick, that pigeon: sure-fire zone-indicators.

He wiggled his fingers above the keyboard, as though performing some sort of gypsy curse, then the dance began once more...

END INTERLUDE

***

Nothing's guaranteed.

Nothing left to lose.

Nothing beneath the surface.

Nothing's guaranteed beneath the surface - except nothing.

Nothing wrong with that!

Nothing would make me happier.

Nothing could have prepared me.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Nothing...

Nothing...

***

INTERLUDE 3:

Paul froze.

A momentary blip. Surely.

Nothing was coming to him. But not enough, not enough...

The pigeon was still there, but with none of its former vigour. Just dead eyes. Nothing there. Just... pity?

"No," said Paul, fingering a desk apple. "I'm still in the zone. I'll be back there soon. I just need to keep going!"

The pigeon turned away.

END INTERLUDE

***

You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

You can catch a.... a....

a cold.

You can catch me if you can.

YES! That's it!

You can catch me if you... if you're...

if you're cold.

You can catch a fly.

...

A cold fly

***

INTERLUDE 4:

And then it was all over.

Paul knew it. He sucked a bloody-bitten thumb (his).

The zone had fallen apart like so much paper zone.

The pigeon had gone. The fire had gone. His fingers lingered over the keys. No longer poised with electric potential, but swinging ominously like hanged men.

His bloated digits lolloped to the mouse, fumbling towards the 'Publish Post' button.

Just time to cough up one last chunk of hubris.

END INTERLUDE

***

Look before you leap.