Pancho sat in silence. In deep contemplative silence. Some people would probably even guess he had passed on or fallen into a coma. That’s how good Pancho was at being contemplative. A true master of contemplation at work in fact. The silence was only apparent on the outside however. Inside his exaggeratingly well disposed cranium there was an incessant humdrum of voices and chitchat. Well, not really. His head was simply filled with emptiness. It was a void but also a realm in which every possible idea could exist simultaneously. It was just a matter of letting an idea burst like a bubble and manifest itself in his mind. To some this may sound like insanity. Others would claim that Pancho actually had the answer to the universe in his head. And lo and behold, so it was. But there is and always has been a subtle difference between infinite potential and the actual outcome.
For example, when cooking. You may have the complete ingredients to a perfect dish of pasta, but put the pasta onto a boil, walk away and get distracted by that hilarious video on youtube and WHAM, there you have it. Even the most talented master chef can not save those drenched and soggy noodles. By the way, Pancho was quite a talented a cook, but that’s a different matter.
Anyway, this is how a master mind worked. At least, knowing that he was a master mind Pancho took it for the way every master mind worked. Sitting there waiting for an idea to mysteriously pop out of the crackle of unworthy ideas. And Pancho was not just waiting for any odd idea. No my dear reader, not at all. He was in fact waiting for an idea that would revolutionise the world. An idea so unthinkably new that it would take the world by storm and open people’s eyes with a blinding clarity. In a good way that is. Meaning that there would be no way that some religious fundamentalist would take that idea as proof that Pancho was dangerous. He didn’t particularly feel like being burned on the haystack for being radical.
But alas, Pancho had been sitting for a while and this fantastic idea was evidently running late. So slowly his mind started drifting off into memory. You see, he was not any longer in the Kingdom of Thailand, he had left that place of eternal sunshine and friendly smiles a while back when his stint there ended.
As expected he had been paraded around a few last times and taken farewell from so many of his new found fans, that he already had a faint longing to return. Especially now, that the spring weather in Europe was rainy and cold.
But then, there were other aspects that he did not miss. Such as the constant nagging feeling that he should write down his memories of the time, for the multitude of his fans of course. But to be honest he failed to find the time to do that the closer he came to the end of his stay. There were so many stories to tell. Too many in fact. Too many wonderful stories of teaching little devils, eating disgusting looking food that was actually fantastically delicious, being kidnapped by lady boys and having encounters with a variety other fascinating people. Too many such stories because even Pancho’s amazingly productive and long life was finite and he did prefer to live it compared to sitting around remembering it (he knew he could do that when he became an old whiny grandpa: “Ah the old days, you know grandson, when I was your age…”). So Pancho decided to move on and divert the deep well of his talents to other things.
This was actually the reason why he was sitting here in silence in the expanses of his endless family estate, waiting for his encounter with fate (Not that he thought fate was particularly good at keeping an appointment). He needed to find a new project into which he could hurl his dazzling greatness. And, well, as much as he refused to acknowledge it, this was proving quite a challenge. But where would Pancho Wodehouse be now if he did not accept a good challenge!
For example, when cooking. You may have the complete ingredients to a perfect dish of pasta, but put the pasta onto a boil, walk away and get distracted by that hilarious video on youtube and WHAM, there you have it. Even the most talented master chef can not save those drenched and soggy noodles. By the way, Pancho was quite a talented a cook, but that’s a different matter.
Anyway, this is how a master mind worked. At least, knowing that he was a master mind Pancho took it for the way every master mind worked. Sitting there waiting for an idea to mysteriously pop out of the crackle of unworthy ideas. And Pancho was not just waiting for any odd idea. No my dear reader, not at all. He was in fact waiting for an idea that would revolutionise the world. An idea so unthinkably new that it would take the world by storm and open people’s eyes with a blinding clarity. In a good way that is. Meaning that there would be no way that some religious fundamentalist would take that idea as proof that Pancho was dangerous. He didn’t particularly feel like being burned on the haystack for being radical.
But alas, Pancho had been sitting for a while and this fantastic idea was evidently running late. So slowly his mind started drifting off into memory. You see, he was not any longer in the Kingdom of Thailand, he had left that place of eternal sunshine and friendly smiles a while back when his stint there ended.
As expected he had been paraded around a few last times and taken farewell from so many of his new found fans, that he already had a faint longing to return. Especially now, that the spring weather in Europe was rainy and cold.
But then, there were other aspects that he did not miss. Such as the constant nagging feeling that he should write down his memories of the time, for the multitude of his fans of course. But to be honest he failed to find the time to do that the closer he came to the end of his stay. There were so many stories to tell. Too many in fact. Too many wonderful stories of teaching little devils, eating disgusting looking food that was actually fantastically delicious, being kidnapped by lady boys and having encounters with a variety other fascinating people. Too many such stories because even Pancho’s amazingly productive and long life was finite and he did prefer to live it compared to sitting around remembering it (he knew he could do that when he became an old whiny grandpa: “Ah the old days, you know grandson, when I was your age…”). So Pancho decided to move on and divert the deep well of his talents to other things.
This was actually the reason why he was sitting here in silence in the expanses of his endless family estate, waiting for his encounter with fate (Not that he thought fate was particularly good at keeping an appointment). He needed to find a new project into which he could hurl his dazzling greatness. And, well, as much as he refused to acknowledge it, this was proving quite a challenge. But where would Pancho Wodehouse be now if he did not accept a good challenge!
