It is always difficult to deal with a God. Especially one the likes of Anansi.
He arrived on a warm day, wearing a large coat and smoking a pipe. While he kept a mild smile on his face, there was a glimmer of wickedness and stupendous intelligence in his eyes, which bade me keep my distance.
I was on the front steps of the Cross Historical Society, smoking my own pipe and waiting for a cousin to arrive when Anansi came down the street. He had a baker’s dozen worth of children following him, calling out and squealing at the silly faces and magnificent jokes he told them. A few parents tagged along as well, and it seemed to me that he paid special attention to them.
It wasn’t until he was abreast of the Society that I heard him speak, and knew him for who – and what – he was. When the knowledge crossed my mind, he turned and winked at me, a subtle sign that I would do well not to interfere.
As I said, it is always difficult to deal with a God.
I kept my peace, and I watched and waited as he tempted the parents closer, whispering to the children and eliciting gales of laughter from the young throats. Finally, the parents – none of whom I recognized – stepped into the circle. Anansi let out a cry of triumph and he vanished.
The children clapped and cheered at his magic, and it took them all several minutes to realize the parents were gone.
Why he took them, or where he took them to, is unknown. When he returns to Cross, I’ll have a word with Anansi about the incident, God or not.
I ended up caring for a trio of siblings for the better part of a decade, and I’d like to know if the joke was meant for me or someone else.
Either way, it sure as hell wasn’t funny.
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