Mondays With Mr. K (VIII)

Mondays With Mr. K (VIII)

Mr. K was a noted man of stories. In August, from his window, he could clearly see, the lightning and the thunder, through the splattered droplet prisms. How the sky would light up. The soaked cats – always one, two, and a third but never an unfortunate fourth; laid in a warm corner, distant from each other, but close enough to help each other out if necessary. “Always suspicious creature’s cats are,” he would say. “The trust no one, and yet expect to be allowed in places, like my home. They expect to have their corner to themselves, warm, and cozy and to leave when they have finished their business, or until they have no use anymore with me. That is the way cats are. That is the way they operate. They expect whatever they want, but have no idea of what gratitude is. Such a pity really that such creatures, have only one foot in the area of trusting each other, and another behind their back willing to double cross each other if necessary. Well their behaviour I suppose is like that of people as well. Oh well a bit of gratitude would be kind from them. Though I suppose they do think that because they clean the place of any mice – which I have never seen; they earn their keep. Though I suppose I’ll admit to myself, that I do enjoy their company. Sometimes I tell them stories.

“Have I ever told you the story of the a marriage that I witnessed years ago? Well you see, years ago, a young bride and groom were going to get married – alright you are right the proper way to say that is: they were getting married. Now you see on their wedding day a storm was brewing. The wife wanted to have the wedding outside, and she insisted on having it outside. Though she changed the reception to be inside. A small price to pay though. Anyhow, I was walking along, the path of this wedding, avoiding any major areas of guests, because I was not invited and merely wanted to go for a walk through the surrounding forest. Anyhow while I was out walking, there was a small bench, overlooking a pond or a slough . . . anyhow; I presume this man who was sitting on the bench was the groom. He appeared to be in great distress, or just stress. When I sat down on the bench – because I was both tired and my feet hurt; and a little bit curious; the groom began to tell me he wasn’t sure he was ready to marry yet. He didn’t feel right in what he was doing. Rather that he was doing what was pressured by his family and his soon to be wife. Simple honesty is the best I told him. Simply say that you do not wish to marry her, and tell her and everyone else your reasons why. Anyhow after resting I headed off. I made it to the next town before, the storm hit, but by then news had spread of a terrible accident that had happened at the wedding. Apparently when the storm hit everyone moved inside for the reception. The groom though ran outside to help with moving things inside – as men are expected to apparently, while standing underneath a tree, grabbing a chair that was caught by the wind, and lightning had apparently struck the tree, and crushed the groom. Needless to say that marriage, which never happened, ended with a tragedy. At least the groom got what he wanted. To a degree. Though it does go to show a few things. Be honest with your feelings, and never have a wedding outside. Why did I tell you this?” Mr. K shrugged his shoulders – “I was reminded of it by this storm.”