I was lying in my bed, sipping on cold milk and eating raisins. My friend Giuseppe, a balding red rooster with just one eye, was standing on a stool beside my bed, eating sunflower seeds and spitting the shells out on the floor, like the inconsiderate sleaze ball that he was.
Giuseppe was quite a character; an Italian immigrant who managed to graduate from both Harvard’s and MIT’s schools of business at the same time. He then went on to become a successful stockbroker on Wall Street until the 2008 financial crisis claimed him as one of its victims. Since roosters have no moral misgivings, Giuseppe simply jumped over to the dark side, and began using pyramid schemes to finance his expensive lifestyle.
Everything was going well for Giuseppe, until one day his wife found feathers that belonged to another hen in one his coats. His wife instantly went ballistic, and in a fit of blinding Italian fury, ran over to his emperor size bed as he was taking his afternoon siesta; and pecked the living daylights out of him.
A struggle then ensued between them as the now one-eyed Giuseppe was fighting for his life. The neighbours overheard the commotion and called the police. The two stopped fighting when the cops arrived and Giuseppe’s wife claimed self-defense. With one eye missing and half of his feathers gone, the evidence was pointing in her direction. But since Giuseppe had a natural sleaze ball look about him, it only took one quick glance in his direction to declare him guilty and charge him with domestic abuse.
Giuseppe’s troubles didn’t end there; his wife went on to spill the beans on his fraudulent enterprise which led to further charges. In the end, Giuseppe received 10 years for all his troubles, and that’s how he ended up in a prison cell, with nothing to do but stand on a stool and ponder over how it all went so south.
Still lying in my bed with nothing to watch on T.V, I looked at my clear plastic cup that was nearly empty and began swooshing it like a wine connoisseur. As I stared at that remaining milk that was swirling around and around at the bottom of the cup, I suddenly felt the type of inspiration that poets feel before writing an epic poem.
“Giuseppe” I began asking, barely containing my enthusiasm, “do you think there is a market for camel milk in Canada?”
He bobbed his little head upwards and turned towards me with his one good eye. Giuseppe always paused for a second or two before speaking. This delay gave whatever he was about to say an air of authority, even if it was complete rubbish.
“Sonny,” he said sounding like Al Paccino, “with the right sales pitch, you could sell camel shit!”
Conciseness is the hallmark of wise speech.
“hmmm…” I muttered as I began to doze off…
When I opened my eyes again I saw that I was on a set of some sort, dressed in a sparkling white robe and a majestic headset similar to the one worn by Lawrence of Arabia. When I looked to my immediate right, I saw a camel standing beside me. I must be dreaming, I thought to myself.
“Welcome to Dragon’s Den!”
I looked ahead and saw three men and one woman sitting in chairs, all beaming with anticipation.
“What’s your name?” The kind looking red headed lady asked me.
Before I could gather my thoughts, I answered her as if possessed by someone else; a more confident, chauvinistic version of myself.
“My name is Zakaria Amara….the greatest camel herder of all time“.
The camel beside me nodded in agreement.
“So what do you have for us today?” the mean looking bald man asked.
“CaMooo! The finest camel milk in the world!”
They all burst out with laughter; one of them even fell on all fours and began slapping the ground hysterically.
“You gotta be kidding me. YOU came on this show to sell CAMEL MILK?!!” the mean one exclaimed.
The real me would have melted away like a candle, but to my surprise, I began to speak with supreme confidence and authority.
“CaMooo is not just a delicious beverage; it’s also a revolutionary health product that is proven to cure Cancer, Diabetes, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, Depression, Itchy feet, High blood pressure, Low blood pressure, No blood pressure, ADD, DVD, An angry wife and the Bubonic plague. “
I was running out of illnesses so I decided to go for the home run…
“And if you drink one gallon a day then you will live forever!” I said dramatically.
Their facial expressions went from mocking to dazzled, and like excited children they all asked at once,
“DO YOU HAVE A SAMPLE WE CAN TRY?”
“Of course!” I said with a victorious smile.
I had a large plastic container, so I simply squatted under the camel and began milking it on live television. When the container was finally filled, I walked over to the red headed lady who was sitting on the far right, knelt before her, and offered her the milk as if it was the most precious jewel on earth.
“Mmmm…It’s delicious!” she said as she looked over to her colleagues with approval, “I would love to try this with my cereal!”
She then passed the container over to her right, and the audience heard comments like, “Camel Milk! Where have you been all my life?!”, and “It reminds me of my mother’s milk”, and “Can I keep this sample?”
Feeling like a great ancient conqueror, I proudly began to strut back to the centre of the set clinkclinkclinkclink DUFF!
I suddenly woke up to the sound of my door opening. My alarm clock indicated that it was 7:30 a.m. I looked at the floor and noticed that it was covered by a three inch carpet made of sunflower seed shells. Giuseppe was on my toilet, drinking from it’s refreshing water.
“you know something Giuseppe…” I began to say, “You’re an absolute genius! Thank you!”
He looked up with toilet water still dripping from his beak, turned towards me with his one good eye and said “Hey! for-get-about-it! Bada-Bing-Bada-Boom!” as he jumped off the toilet like Super Mario and walked out the door.