The Maypole Conceit, Part Two
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How I got here is, there is a man in town whose name is Josephus, like he's a character out of the bible. He's short and dirty and wears lots of dark green clothing. A while ago, he made a pair of pants which he wears every day. They're covered in patches that don't quite match -- they're all earth-toned, but there's some dark yellow, some orange, some are nearly brown. His pants are a nicely raked pile of leaves. I don't know why he doesn't just make a new pair of pants.
Josephus has dirt under his nails because when he isn't at work (He works at the chicken factory cleaning the big steel vats where the conveyor belt drop the chickens after they've been hung, plucked, and trimmed of extraneous body parts.) he is in his back yard digging holes.
Nobody knows what the holes are for.
He's also got a wire thin mustache. People say he's had it his whole life, since he was a little kid. I believe them. It's the sort of mustache that contains hairs that took years upon years of careful maintenance to grow to the length that they are now, which is not very long. Josephus strokes his mustache constantly with his dirty-nailed fingers.
It's because of Josephus that I'm tied to the maypole. But there's more to it than that.
Ben Brown tries. He tries really hard.