Thursday, February 16, 2006

Dunlop: Chapter I
Hello. I am a fictional creation. As yet I have no name. This line of text embodies the entire history of my existence. One might say I was just born. Where am I? I am on this very page. My name is Dunlop. It just came to me. I do not object to this name. I suppose I cannot object to it. That is, not unless my creator makes it so. He might have me do, think or feel anything for I am fictional and that is his prerogative.

I wonder where you are at this moment. You, the reader of this text. The reader of my words; words coming from my as yet un-described mouth. I have only one definite feature so far, my name. I am quite excited about my existence. It is just coming into fruition now. What allows me to be excited? Me, a mere name on a page, an insignificant constituent of reality, where are my thoughts? But then, where are yours? In your head? That is as much a guess as to say that my thoughts are in the page. Open a brain and rummage around as much as you want, you wont find any thoughts. The same goes for this page. But who is to say what exists? Well, my creator for one. He’s deciding what exists. I am a ferret. A talking ferret with soft white fur. Does this surprise you? I would imagine not.

You could be anywhere. You might be reading this in a roof garden in New York, United states. You might be sat on the toilet, you might be in a plane flying over Bulgaria, or you may well be bouncing on a trampoline trying to read this sentence, its all possible. I am a talking ferret. My name is Dunlop because I was found in a tire. Who was it that found me? It has been decided not to divulge this piece of information. You and I will never know whom it was that found me in that fateful tire and dubbed me Dunlop. Probably the first word they saw after picking up my tiny form and cradling me. Do you realise that you can stop reading at any time? You can thrust this paper aside, go off and do something else; you might even go to the pub for a pint. I am told this is an enjoyable pastime for many humans. I’m not sure who told me this or when it was but I have little choice about what I say. It just seems to arrive at my lips. I would guess that my creator would prefer you to read on.

Something should probably happen soon, something a little more tangible than ramblings and musings of a fictional ferret. It appears I am now going to tell a story. The story of my life. Not from the beginning though. I shall begin it sometime soon after that fateful day when I was discovered curled up in a tire. Curled up eh? That’s a new detail; where did that come from? Perhaps I was getting into the storytelling mood and I added that myself. Perhaps not. So I was in a turnip field. That is where I shall begin. I was out sniffing for lunch. Sniffing the air to see what it had to say to me, to see what it might tell me about life. Make a sandwich. Do you feel like one? Or perhaps you are not in the vicinity of sandwich making equipment or ingredients. Perhaps you are in the park; maybe you’re even trying to read these words while cycling, though I doubt it. But I suppose you could be on a tandem, you could be the second person and so not be required to steer and be alert. If only there was a tandem designed to accommodate the anatomy of a ferret, I would love to sit at the back and read while cycling. A splendid idea. (I bet you’re pretty spooked if you’re reading this for the first time and you are in fact sitting on the second seat of a tandem!)

Goodness me, I have gone off the point completely. The whole idea that someone might read this just intrigues me. It’s strange to think of the irreversible direction of my communication. I mean, its all one way, you can’t reply. Well, not soon enough to have me respond on this page. You might write to me. But really I am trapped in this page, no further existence has been granted me. I can’t have an exchange with you. But at the same time, I am talking to you (at you perhaps). But you probably knew all that already. I’ll try and stop being so tedious. Here we go I’ll start again. Dunlop, that’s my name. I’m a ferret and I was found in a tire. I first became aware of myself in a field of turnips. At this point my only historical residue was my name and the raw fact that I was found in a tire. Roaming about in this turnip field, as I said, I was sniffing the air. The air told me numerous things that would have been undetectable to the human nose. Rain was on its way, there was a field of sitting cows nearby, and the barn next to my field was uninhabited. I learned much more from the air at the time but something tells me not everything memorable is worth remembering.

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