Death of an Excentric
And so it came to pass that the ancient kingdom of Metaphoria lost his most eccentric denizen to old age.
Despite being somewhat famous, none knew him intimately so that none knew how to eulogise him. The cause of his eccentricity, his defining trait, couldn't even be agreed upon. Some said it was an affectation, others a symptom of something deep inside him. Metaphorians, long known for their tendency to become polarised, were divided equally on that subject, each camp ready at a moment's notice to zealously defend its arguments.
The king, a wise though somewhat literal man, summoned the greatest surgeon of the land to dissect the deceased. To resolve the debate decisively, the autopsy was to be done in front of all and thankfully, the operating theatre, like all Metaphorians buildings, had the capacity to expend endlessly so that all were able to attend.
With the audience ready and the corpse exposed to all at the center of the room, the surgeon entered to much applause. He picked a knife and eyed the body to choose where to make his first cut. The audience, hushed in their attention, observed the blade slicing the flesh for the first time.
And then slice again.
And then sliced again and again until the blade had nothing left to slice.
The surgeon had cut layers upon layers of flesh, cutting his way through the corpse without encountering bones, heart, brain or any other organ.
Satisfied, Metaphorians from each both sides nodded at one another in agreement. The debate had been resolved: the man's quirks were indeed skin deep but his skin, it ran to the core.
Despite being somewhat famous, none knew him intimately so that none knew how to eulogise him. The cause of his eccentricity, his defining trait, couldn't even be agreed upon. Some said it was an affectation, others a symptom of something deep inside him. Metaphorians, long known for their tendency to become polarised, were divided equally on that subject, each camp ready at a moment's notice to zealously defend its arguments.
The king, a wise though somewhat literal man, summoned the greatest surgeon of the land to dissect the deceased. To resolve the debate decisively, the autopsy was to be done in front of all and thankfully, the operating theatre, like all Metaphorians buildings, had the capacity to expend endlessly so that all were able to attend.
With the audience ready and the corpse exposed to all at the center of the room, the surgeon entered to much applause. He picked a knife and eyed the body to choose where to make his first cut. The audience, hushed in their attention, observed the blade slicing the flesh for the first time.
And then slice again.
And then sliced again and again until the blade had nothing left to slice.
The surgeon had cut layers upon layers of flesh, cutting his way through the corpse without encountering bones, heart, brain or any other organ.
Satisfied, Metaphorians from each both sides nodded at one another in agreement. The debate had been resolved: the man's quirks were indeed skin deep but his skin, it ran to the core.
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