Fifty Ways To Lose Your Loofah

 

'Well, Pooh.'

'Well, Piglet.'

'I see Kanga's organizing a May Day Celebration.'

'An old pagan tradition, Piglet, as it happens. Beltloop.'

'I think it's Belta-'

'And I've been working tirelessly on my contribution.'

'One of your hums?'

'One of Mr Simon's.'

'Ah. "The Sound of Silence"? "Feelin' Groovy"?'

'"Fifty Ways To Lose Your Loofah". One of his best. An unmatched meditation on the vagaries of domestic life and the unexpected surplusnessness of shower-inclined accoutrements.'

'Pooh, I really do have to stop you before--'

'Shove it down the pan, Jan,

Label it trash, Ash,

Feed it to the bin, Cyn,

Just listen to me --'

'Really, Pooh, I --'

'Turn it into straw, Tor...

For your hamster's floor, oh Lor...

Shred diligently, Fi,

And set yourself free.'

'Pooh, just stop--'

'Chuck it in the flames, James,

Lag it round a flue, Pru,

Scoot it off the grid, Sid--what?'

'They aren't the lyrics.'

'Well no, not the lyrics Mr Simon was forced to re-write.'

'Forced?'

'A bootleg of an early take started doing the rounds. Next thing you know, poor Mr Simon's arraigned.'

'Arraigned?'

'By the Orificio Lifetime Expandable Loofah Co. Inc. DSO Wine-Bar and Half-Day Wednesdays.'

'Who?'

'Our motto: "Wonderments for Fundaments".'

'Good grief!'

'Threatened him with High Chaparral action if he released it.'

'Chap--? You mean Court.'

'Of course he was caught, that's what I'm going on about.'

'Well, maybe...just maybe...you might consider some other song.'

'Ah, now, "Homeward Bound" was, as they say, in the frame.'

'Oh dear...was it?'

'Poignancy itself, that one:

"I'm sittin' in a railway station

Got an ointment for my pustulation....mm-mmm".'

'Perhaps just the mm-mmm, Pooh.'

'Nothing else?'

'Nothing else.'

'Not even "Hello, heat-rash my old friend"?'

'Music will thank you.'

'Jan, Pru and Sid won't...saddled with loofahs like barbed-wire.'

'I'm sure they'll find other uses.'

'Squish it like a wedge, Reg--'

'Pooh!'

 

Mañana-facing

 

'Well, Piglet.'

'Well, Pooh.'

'Spring, eh?'

'Ribeye steak, eh?'

'What?'

'Sorry, I thought we were dallying in randomness.'

'No, I meant Spring seems to be sort of here.'

'Ah. Yes.'

'Lovely. Though the Wood looks a bit tatty.'

'Well that's easily remedied.'

'How?'

'ODA.'

'I'm sorry?'

'Strategy for focussed change. Observe. Do. Achieve. Tigger was full of it.'

'Tigger's always full of it.'

'No, but he said you see it on notices in hospitals, town halls and the like. You observe a particular thing that needs changing, you go about it, you state the result. Tigger gave me some case studies. Might help with the Wood.'

'Such as?'

'Well:

What I observed: Rome.

What I did: Sacked it.

What I achieved: Existential chaos in much of Europe for the next four centuries.'

'I see.'

'Or a more person-centric, non-inward-facing implementation.'

'As in?'

'What I observed: Bloke in hat that did him no favours whatsoever, asking "When did you last see your father?"

What I did: Muttered "dunno."

What I achieved: The reproduction of exactly that scene on sundry wood-panelled walls throughout the known world.'

'Effective.'

'Certainly.'

'So it could be:

What I observed: Fallen branches damming the stream.

What I did: Stared hard at them for a bit.

What I achieved: The triggering of bark-defined self-consciousness, resulting in their rebirth as bijou distressed side-tables for the adornment of today's life-space.'

'See? You're getting the hang of it.'

'I rather think I am.'

'We could start right away.'

'No, Piglet.'

'No?'

'My defaultiness is mañana-facing.'

'Of course. Silly me.'