The Tale of the Scientologist
Many moons ago, when mobile phones where rare and dinosaurs roamed the earth I worked in the Olde Games Workshoppe in the city of Edinburgh. This was in the days before the great ground rending when the streets of this beautiful city had not been rent asunder in the name of the great god Tram. But I digress. The Shoppe stood on the Queens thoroughfare, much beloved of the young ladies of little clothing during feast times, this placed it into close proximity to the Temple where those known as Scienetologists worship. Now I have to admit, in my youth I had read some of the works of their Prophet El Ron and found them risible, so I viewed them as a harmless group, little did I know the depths they sink too, but this is apropos to our tale. It was a fine day and I was wending my way to the Shoppe, for in these long lost times I still had the power of locomotion, why on some days I could be seen to skip or run, truely they were times of magic. But again I digress.
As I approached the Shoppe a young gentleman accosted me, he seemed personable and of good character so I refrained from striking him and continuing on my way. He seemed most intent in asking me some questions from a board he carried and I decided to humor him for the weather was pleasant and I felt that all was right in the world.
I confess I do not remember the meat of his questions, but I recall he was asking me to think about what I treasured and needed in life, to which I responded smiling and breathing. I do recall that by the last question I had so confused the poor chap I had to lean over and read it from his clip board. It was, I think, of these what do you treasure most, to which I replied ‘Breathing, because without that I’d not be able to enjoy the others.’ The next stage of the script involved him inviting me to his ‘church’ for a free stress test. I politely declined, his sense of relief was palpable and I left him to consider his lot in life.
And so I walked away from the poor fool, lamenting in my mind how anyone could be taken in by such and organisation who existed only to take the money from the deluded, and finished my journey to the Shoppe. It is only now many, many, years later I realise the irony of these thoughts.
Originally published at Scimons Random Thought Table. You can comment here or there.