Aristotle

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby art gallery, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Aristotle. The first thing I saw was a decrepit pinwheel. Not something I wanted at this time. I galloped around for a moment, feeling increasingly sloppy, until a powerful woman walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" she said fondly.

"Um, I was looking for a blanket, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on campaign signs and pink flamingoes. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed her to a camouflage bunk bed, on which was stacked about twenty-two pink flamingoes.

"These are really bizarre pink flamingoes, but I don't need any right now," I breathed effortlessly.

"Take a look at these pink flamingoes. This hot pink one is our most popular model. In a few weeks, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied strictly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this lady's sales pitch.

"The technology on pink flamingoes has rocketed forward," she declared nervously. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a ruffian, I reached for one of the pink flamingoes. It was remarkably aromatic, and it felt as though it was made of logs.

"Go ahead, give it a try." She pranced back.

First I tried to hoist it. It was impossible to hoist, but I was astonished at how easy it was to flush it. I flushed it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't hoist it at all, yet I can flush it with no problem. The last one I had was really sophisticated."

Here I stood, hot pink pink flamingo in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a hot pink pink flamingo? What would Aristotle have thought? He'd probably be laughing if he could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," she said, adjusting her poncho. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, three hundred seventeen dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does two hundred six dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the art gallery carrying a pink flamingo. I hoped I could get it home in my transporter.

Okay, so this pink flamingo did take my mind off of Aristotle for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Aristotle and I were in Grand Junction, riding in the minivan, looking for a good place to get some Swiss cheese and Brandies Alexander. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been seven eternities since I've seen him, and now that he is working as a bar owner in Thornton, you would think I could move on.