North Wind

You are a down-in-the-dirt, public humble head on Hookers’ Hill. It’s 4.00 AM and there is a blizzard raging. You are freezing and tired. Yet you must do your public duty – and kiss boot. For you have been rudely awakened by a superior being – a bright young woman who has seemingly appeared out of nowhere, as if blown in by the bitingly cold north wind. And she is demanding that you kiss-respect her snow-stained boots – right here; right now; in the wind and the sleet!

Make no mistake – this bitter young woman is not your friend. She will hurt you if you fail to please her. And rightly so, for she is your better and fully deserving of your footslavish respect, whatever the time of day or night, and whatever the weather.

























The north wind shall blow
And you shall kiss toe.
The north wind shall bleat
And you shall kiss feet.
The north wind shall hoot
And you shall kiss boot.
The north wind shall mock
And you shall kiss sock.

The north wind shall rain
And you shall feel pain.
The north wind shall roar
And you shall feel sore.
The north wind shall nip
And you shall feel whip.
The north wind’s your master
So work that much faster!

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