Guess it's about caring for ones health and I got into the herbal mode. All things herbal just yelled for attention. Herbal tea, herbal pastes, herbal soaps and most of all, herbal herbs. I scour the shelves in departmental stores for the magic H word, and when I set eyes upon them, I just pull out the stuff and put them into the bag or basket respectively. (Respectively?)
I also began having herbal dreams in which I see acres and acres of herbal gardens and huge harvesters harvesting the herbs and putting them into gigantic herbal juice extractors.
I dream of lying down in a row with other herbalists and huge funnels being shoved our throats into which assorted herbal juices are poured. And our respective stomachs bloat with herbal juice. And no more juice goes in and what is being poured into the funnels just stand and the guys use hydraulic pumps to pump the stuff into our stomachs and our stomachs burst one after another respectively in an orderly manner. And I wake up sweating and shivering and yelling but the fascination for herbs grows like a mighty oak and holds me spellbound.
And the marketing guys get wind of my fascination and I began getting calls from Sonia and Sharon and Elma letting me know that there is this a once in a life time offer for me to buy acres of herbs, or an offer for the new herbal hard drive for my PC, or an offer for the all new herbal Aston Spinachi which had herbal seat covers and steering wheel and the Greencom company said I could now get herbal ringtones free for 5 dollars a minute and these calls mercifully came at 1 am or 2.30 am when I was having my herbal dreams and I would be transported from one nightmare to another.
As my affair with the herbs continued I gradually stopped taking ordinary food and relied mostly on herbs and my complexion started to take on a herbal hue and as I ventured out of my house, cows and goats and other herbivorous creatures began to exhibit a certain fondness which they demonstrated at first by sniffing me and then trying to gently nibble off my ears at which point I decided enough was enough and bought a ISO certified helmet. I wouldn't give up my herbs for fear of a couple of misguided cows!
I consulted my herbalist (this herbalist was of a different kind, of a higher order than those who lay down with me in my dreams) who thought that the helmet was a good idea for the time being but I should offset my green herbs with red herbs and vegetables so that the balance would be restored and I would get back my baby complexion for which I had been so famous. So I began taking the reddish herbs and beetroots and carrots and red capsicums and plums and strawberries and strawberry ice cream and roses and so forth and gradually my nose turned the color of a red red rose, while the rest of the face continued to maintain the herbal hue, the reason for which was the subject of much conjecture, discussion and hilarity in the Scientific Herbalist Conference held in Jamaica last July.
At the conference I was asked to stand on the stage as herbalist after herbalist from the four corners of the world and some from the middle examined me and asked me pointed questions about my food habits, my environment, my ancestry and many such things which I answered truthfully to the best of my knowledge and ability, without let or hindrance. They also wanted to know if photosynthesis was taking place in my body and if so from where I was getting the carbon-di-oxide. One helpful herbalist went a step further and brought a cylinder of carbon-di-oxide and tried to shove the tube up my nostril. But the other herbalists dissuaded him saying that other tests had to be done before the photosynthesis test.
They peered into my eyes, lifted my ears and squeezed my nose and wanted me to tell them how it felt. I really wanted to tell them but I took hold of myself taking into account the fact that all this was being done for the herbal cause which was so dear to my heart and which has so long been neglected by our politicians and bureaucrats and beauty queens.
At the far end of the conference hall there were two Spanish bulls with their handlers and also a couple of parrots. I asked the organizer why the animals and birds were there. I became a little concerned when he to told me that they wanted to see how animals and birds would react to me.
And before I knew what was happening the parrot had flown and was resting on my head poised to peck at my red red rose nose. Mercifully a compassionate herbalist quickly grabbed the parrot and wrung its neck, satisfied that the reaction of the parrot had already been demonstrated to everyone's satisfaction. The bulls meanwhile were getting restless. They did not show any interest in me but stood facing each other belligerently. With raised tails and snorting snoots, they were attempting to dislodge the flooring with their fore and latter limbs and were ready to charge at each other in mortal combat and settle the matter once and for all and sundry.
"What's happening," I asked a friendly looking herbalist beside me.
"Don't worry," he said nonchalantly, "They're trying to settle an issue between them. Both of them are eager to have you for lunch. All I can say is, may the best bull win."
He gave me a friendly smile, shook my hands ceremoniously moved away for a ringside view of the combat. While the audience was captivated by the Challenge of the Bulls, I located an anterior exit and quietly let myself out and put on a flowing head dress to protect myself from bulls and parrots and flew towards the airport and here I am now in solitary suspected of being a terrorist in herbal disguise.
