Leaping to the conclusion that the Earth was under attack from pterodactyls was quite logical considering the circumstances. It began when I woke up in a sweaty fever this morning. No. I guess it really began when I was born. Or it began when the universe blinked into existence with an enormous bang, which – I was taught – is different from Gad creating the Universe. But I don’t really see why the two are mutually exclusive.

In any case, let’s start when I woke up this morning. I had recently inherited a flu and a pleasant case of strep throat from a good friend (Thanks a lot for sharing AlefAlef!). Being sick has taught me several important things necessary to all walks of life:

• Cats, no matter how friendly, will not fetch the throat lozenges or make you soup;
• Friends, even the one responsible for one’s illness, are not interested in hearing one whine telephonically about how miserable one feels;
  
• Molasses is no substitute for they honey one is too weak to go out and buy for one’s super-duper, illness-assaulting ginger’n’garlic tea. It is, in fact, a wretched, hideous, nauseating substitute;
• The friend responsible for one's illness will not drop everything and rush out to fetch the required honey, no matter how much one whines, whinges, and entreats, if he himself is still ill;
• Using the paint programme on one’s computer when one is unaccustomed to controlling a paintbrush with a mouse reduces one’s artistic skill to that of a 5-year-old;
• When one decided a few months ago in a fit of purity and beatitude (and poverty) to get rid of one’s TV, one was not thinking ahead;
• Pterodactyls are not attacking the Earth.
  

This last point is perhaps the most important (although the second-to-last point also carries some consequence), since were we to believe that these giant, ancient reptiles were indeed swooping and darting through our skies, all of humanity would run panic-stricken through the streets, causing grievous injury to both body and property alike.

Now, thus was the state of my brain as I lay in my bed this morning. Suddenly I caught sight of creatures flying in a formation high in the sky. They were black and I could see no details other than that they were big. “The pterodactyls are coming!” I shouted to my cat, sitting on the window ledge, looking at me as if I had just announced that cats and dogs should get along. I ran to the window for a betting look, upsetting my glass of cold tea from the previous night all over my ... er ... private gay men’s magazines, also from the previous night.

But, as I have already stated, pterodactyls were not attacking the Earth. Instead it was just a flock of stupid geese flying north for spring. Big deal.


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