The titles rolled across this Summer scene. Friends gathered round as the low late afternoon Summer sun dropped slowly, but the heat still warming. As I watched the events and sipped a beer, a sonorous, resonant voice intoned in my head…
“The patio; here I was born; and here my parents abandoned me for the supermarket when I was but an infant. I would have soon perished, had I not been found by a kindly she-ape named Burga, who adopted me as her own and taught me the ways of the wild. I learned quickly, and grew stronger each day, and now I share the friendship and trust of all kitchen animals. The patio is filled with beauty, and danger; and lost borders filled with good, and evil. This is my domain, and I protect those who come here; for I am Tarzan, Lord of the Barbecue”
Tarzan beat his chest. Rolling back on his heals he thrust his weight powerfully forward and out, down from the tall branch of the tree, up in the canopy. With an outstretched arm, he reached for a vine and swung away; off and beyond.
With his other hand he turned the sausages and burgers, just preventing one from slipping between the grille to a certain doom below. Cracking off the lid of his Mexican beer, he swigged back deeply and arched his shoulders, blowing out his chest to mark his territory and ward off rival barbecueing males. For this truly was his domain; and none shall enter without incurring his wrath.
© David Preston, Beer Tinted Spectacles 2012