© Bruce Goodman 3 February 2018
Look, said Cyril, I would very much like to give you some friendly advice and admonition. It’s not really my job to do so, but I feel that someone should. Is that alright?
Yes, said I. I’m quite open to hear what you have to say.
Well, said Cyril, I notice you talk too much and I wondered if you could learn to shut your mouth a bit more. Also, what you have to say is never really well thought out. You seem to spout on about nothing, just as if it is the first and only thing that comes into your head. I notice too when you eat you’re inclined to bolt your food down. Strictly speaking you should chew your food thirty-two times, so I am told, but you seem to give it a couple of chews and swallow. Also, I don’t think much of your choice in clothes. You might think what you wear is the fashion, but really it’s far too gaudy for my taste and you need to tone it down a bit. I saw when you drove off in the car the other day that you drove too fast. This is a busy street and someone’s cat or dog or child might get hurt because of your carelessness. Drive a little slower. Finally, although the list could go on, you don’t seem to respect older people such as myself. Just the other day I observed that when you went through the door when I was following you didn’t step aside to let me go first, which any younger person with manners would have done.
Thank you, Cyril, said I disarmingly. I appreciate the time and thought you have put in to this admonition. It’s often never easy to do. In return, to show my gratitude, I wish you only one thing: I hope you die.