Although my arm seems to be healing rather well, it still causes me a little pain. I believe I may have also fractured my left elbow some time ago, having hit my 'funny' bone, which normally heals comparatively quickly, but causes me a shooting pain each time I lift anything such as a large book. It is more a mild irritant than a serious injury. In any case, speaking of which...
This evening at that... place, across the dolorous Acheron, came the simpleton from the village. As I said before, he's been having a rough time recently, so one ought to be kind, compassionate, empathetic, considerate, mindful, which I most certainly am. I understand he's been through the mill a bit (his self-harming is clearly evident of this) and it is best in such a situation to be as nice and as understanding as possible. Yet these are not reasonable people (if 'people' they can be called...). They are not ruled by reason, but rather at the whim of their emotions, like a candle in the wind, passive receivers, not active agents. Everything was going swell at work. People were laughing and joking. All was well. Then, from out of nowhere, this... mild irritation came straight up to me and told me that should I ask for assistance this evening, that he was going to smack me in the face. I do not take kindly to threats, and my compassion, while virtually boundless, nevertheless has its limits. I let it slide, attributing it to his evident psychological defects. Yet as I mulled over the consequences of his threat, I began to wonder what would likely happen if I did ask for help (Saturday nights are the busiest in Hades, so it is necessary that I would have to ask for help, at some point). So, this is how it went (remember, this person is my boss, my superior, though he is scarcely past 18 years of age and is most certainly not university educated, still only being in college).
Maximus: I'll have you know, that the last person that threatened to do that to me ended up in jail for four years.
Simpleton from the village: So what? A four year stretch, that's nothing. (He has never spent any time in jail).
Maximus: You might threaten the little kids at school, boy, but you don't... scare... me.
Simpleton: (just glares at me, trying to look tough).
Maximus: Moreover, I study (criminal) law.
Simpleton: (continues glaring)
Maximus: What's more, I have no (criminal) record.
Simpleton: That is surprising.
Maximus: You haven't even moved out of your parents' place, so don't try and bully me, boy.
Some times passes, and eventually I extend the olive branch by extending my hand, offering to shake his. He did not shake it, but said it was nothing. We smoothed things over. This is what happens when you study Latin at university to master's degree level in Dark Age Britain: it is a nation of savages, brutes, void of all reason, ruled over by juvenile bullies and foreign gangsters.
The law degree is still on course. I am determind to finish it, and attain a first. Besides, how else can I be of service to France?...
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