Mayan Winds

Dear reader: If I may digress this once, I neglected to tell you of my great joy. I have had word of William Robertson, the captain of the Hopewell ship. Remember he let me take his sloop on a voyage? I being, captured by pyrates, often wondered of Captain Robinson. Here is his story.

The captain set sail some three months and two after days after me. He wrote me this letter and told me of his visit to a strange land. I planned to share the correspondence with you, but I busied myself with many of my own obsequecious voyages. Ah, but again, I digress . . . Perhaps it is my age.

Dear Gulliver:
My wife, Maya, grew up in the small village of Bhuatra, India. She lived with her parents and three brothers. She was the youngest child in the family, and her village revered her. The inhabitants had not had a female child born there for many generations. Indeed, the leaders of Bhuatra had to import brides for the young men to marry and populate the village always with the hope of a girl child.

Therefore, when Maya was born, great "cumtras" or parties were thrown in her honor. All the village sang, and the people rejoiced.The men in the village planted a tree which legend says, "Will grow and bear many baby girls." The tree will be so plentiful that Bhuatra will never want for females again. No longer would the men of Bhuatra have to pay for women to service their needs. Now, there would be plenty for all. In honor of so great a day, many boars were slaughtered, buriedmand then roasted in great fire pits. The men filled themselves. The women waited to service the the ""boared men. All were happy in the village that day.

The child grew. She grew more lovely with each passing breeze that blew by her tree. Maya played on and in the tree, and she made her village and parents very proud. The people of the village worked day and night to shower the blessed child with many gifts. Then, one day came the Fugiama, a great storm. All the leaves on Maya's tree were gone. The only thing left was blight. The people of Bhuatra did not know what to do. They called on the great thinkers of the village and were told that the storm meant a great change would come, and the child must be readied.

Bhuatra waited. Then, one calm day like a cleansing zephyr, Bart Sloan came sauntered into the hamlet. He came to India to find a job, but instead found love. Maya and Bart were star struck, and all the people of the village rejoiced as Maya and Bart were married. The young couple left Bhuatra soon after the ceremony. With them they took the hopes of their people.

Well, as while stories must end, this one continues. People of Bhuatra still are without females; the tree is quite dead, and the name of Sloan is an anathema in the village.

"Why? Why?" is the cry heard in the village?

"Because," the wind replies, "You gave your jewel to a jerk."

The couple resides in an apartment just west of Oklahoma City. Maya works at the Police Bar, and Bart sells time shares for Oklahoma Department of Tourism. Business is a little slow right now, so Bart continues to try to plant X sperm and make Maya's village of Bhuatra's dreams come true. While the couple is as yet unsuccessful, Brave Bart vows to keep on trying.