Pierre pulled his toque down over ears as the litany began, “It is damn chilly tonight, the weather man was wrong as usual, predicting a mild evening.” The wind blew straight into Pierre’s face, trying to topple the toque in an attempt to make him bald. Under his toque was the shiny skin of Pierre’s newly shaven head. He decided to go the extra mile after making a few lay man’s vows in his Temple. He didn’t need to shave his lovely brown locks; this wasn’t yet a commitment to monkhood, just a few vows to deepen his meditation practice, but he decided to take the plunge, hoping for change. “Damn” Pierre repeated to himself, “I should have listened to my friends who told me not to be so stupid, as my conk was shaped like an egg, even with hair. They warned me that ‘Egghead’ was going to be their new endearment for me. I should have listened as now I even sleep with my toque on in the belief that heat escapes through the top of my noggin. There was a reason for hair after all besides being a fashion statement. Tomorrow I’m buying a new toque,” Pierre thought, “100% wool, as all those nylon-cotton blends are for the birds.” The wind continued to blow right through the weave giving Pierre goose bumps.
Suddenly he realized that despite his vows, he still was basically a whiner. “When will I ever see the glass half full?” He wondered. “After all that was one of the main reasons I meditate, take vows and humble myself with baldness, to stop depressing myself with this incessant stream of whiny verbiage, some would call, verbal diarrhea that seems to have no beginning or end but constantly circulates in my brain. It was time, time to stop being a boy and become a man, time to tell my bean who was the boss, to stop squeaking like a mouse and start roaring like a lion.” A shiver ran down his back as another gust blew from the North and his thoughts did an about turn, “Boy will I be glad to get home tonight to my cozy warm flat.” The thoughts marched on, as Pierre held his toque with his left hand and the collar of his trench coat with the right one. ”So much for the lion bit,” he thought, as he quickly turned the knob of his front door lobby. “Maybe I will roar tomorrow?”