Mr Idioto had once again broken all records high, in virtual idiocy.. ‘Why do I feel so happy buying this pencil??..’ he thought himself.. ‘Am I becoming a maniac??,, boasting for people of my super star fame??, what am I doing??, crashing down on this bench every time, I get to buy one of those pencils.. They are fine work and such.. Of course, using my intelligence, which I do of course do not possess much of, I am diving, that the price is very low.. And every time I am supposed to buy it, they already have it finished packaged for me, just asking which colors I prefer.. And suddenly as I stand there, and have bought those beautiful works of art, for such a trifling sum I suddenly feel a heavy upwards, like I was becoming insanely happy.. Crashing down on that bench, it was the first time, Mr Idioto, bought the pencils, a red and blue to begin with.. At exactly that very moment, his old pencil which he had brought from Absurdistan, and that had functioned, a strangely long time, just at exactly that moment, he took that pencil forth, and was just going to make a small note with it.. And it fizzled.. Mr. Idioto, being an idiot, believing in signs of God, was thinking, that this must be a sign from God.. ‘Just exactly’ he said to himself ‘when I was going to write this down, using my old pencil, it fizzled out!!, and it is ghostly coincidence, that just 1 minute ago, I bought these new pencils.. Let’s try one!!’
And it was very good.. He didn’t look too much at the pencil, just ascertained that they looked very handsome and fine indeed..
One day though, the red pencil fizzled out, it was maybe three weeks later, and then he suddenly took a look at the pencil.. Ingrained in it, was the number of his Sufi order, in the form of the flower which he knew so well, from the Samuraij sword, he had bought in Stockholm, Sweden, now Absurdistan chaotic nation, in 2015..
His friend Magnus was selling swords.. Mr. Idioto used to go there, and for protection, against the authorities, (the gangsters respected him, he didn’t like their criminal activities, but respected that they respected him), and he had just gotten one of his short swords, he used to carry with him, confiscated by the authorities suddenly.. So he came to Magnus, and was going to buy a new..
Suddenly Magnus pulled forth a samuraij sword from behind the counter:
‘What you think of this??’ he said , very solemnly, like it was a moment to catch breath about afterwards thinking about it.
Mr. Idioto took the sword in his hand, and at once felt; ‘this is a master sword.. shit!! What the hell should I do..’
He swung the sword a little back and forth, and it swung of itself, after he had swung it for some while, the sword moved back by itself into the scabbard..
He felt like he had come back from another dimension. Suddenly Magnus was standing there again, and smiling towards him. Which made Mr. Idioto realize, he didn’t need to hide for Magnus, his friend, what an enourmous treasure this was.
‘Magnus.. I think this is a master sword.. How you got it??’
Magnus, also being a little of himself, like Mr. Idioto, said with a smile of pathetical to the funny level of simplicity: ‘A man came from the Japanese ambassy, and sold it to me..’
‘What did he say??’ Mr. Idioto asked a real question, ‘what kind of .. status.. holds the sword..’
‘He said, it is a general’s sable from 1934..’
‘I will buy it..’ Mr. Idioto said, which made Magnus happy, like it was a planned event already.
Well.. Jack used to carry that sword around in Stockholm, even though it was a forbidden act. But he was so famous, nobody at the moment, complained about it.
But, mostly, or almost always, it was together, with his artist friend Madeleine, a painter, whom had taken care of his economy for a long while, on his mission.
They went to the park, with some old newspapers carried in a bag, and Mr. Idioto, stood at amphitheatre, with his back towards Madeleine, she being 10 meters behind him.
‘Don’t tell me, when you are going to throw’ Mr. Idioto said, and suddenly the sword swung out of the scabble, made a swift cut through the air, and there was lying the newspaper, cut in half.
‘Absolutely perfect’ Mr. Idioto ascertained. ‘Keep on beby..’
And soon a bunch of newspapers were lying there, cut in half or in different angles almost all of them.
The problem, with succeeding, is always that the second time, is the hardest.
When you are successful, the problem is not to have the ability to perform the act again, successfully.. No. The problem is that people begin to expect, that you will succeed always.
‘If you don’t succeed always from now on.. you are not worth anything..’
Thus, it was the screeching unthankfulness of people at general, which at the bottom was founded in their ingrained stupid hatred and envy, the possession by satan over their minds and bodies..
Therefore, it was OK to fail some times when you had succeeded at the first stroke. It was almost humbleness.