The alarm was raised with greater frequency than any one of us cared to note. “Look at Rhodes’ face! What’s he doing?” Cue satire, cue maudlin moralizing, cue dramatic pauses, cue unrequested musical interludes – all of these and more were his coin, and believe me when I tell you that he spent that coin freely.
After the war, Rhodes disappeared. Shaken by his experiences, he shunned human intimacy and thai food, roaming through the forests, appearing only at waystations to discombobulate traders (both the innocent and not-so-innocent) with erratic video footage. Further downriver, we could all hear the alarm that greeted each visitation – “Look at Rhodes’ face! What’s he doing?”
Word came to us that he had finally emerged after nearly 30 years of self-imposed tossing, turning and tufting, perfecting his craft on the farthest shores of what might be considered the great sea of acceptability. Now he brings us footage of those he previously considered friends (and sometimes more than friends). Can any good come of this? we ask ourselves, Can any good come of this?
Yes. Look at Rhodes’ face, and you can easily tell what he’s doing.
