Dear Diary:
Today we met a Scottish ghost. He
was both canny and uncanny.
We were touring an ancient palace
(well, actually, an old ruin) and I noticed a door; and the door had a sign,
and the sign read “This Door Must Remain Closed At All Times”. I said, “But how
can anybody get through?”
Then the Ghost walked through. The
ghost said, “Eye, me lassy”, or something like that, and then he said something
I couldn’t make out at all. Jayadu explained that the ghost was speaking in
something called Brogue, and she volunteered to translate for me.
According to her, the ghost said,
“Yes, young girl, by this door’s logic, none may pass through. It was canny of
you to notice.”
I replied, “It was uncanny of
you to pass through anyhow!”
According to Jayadu, the ghost said,
“Why do you call me uncanny? I am a true Scotsman, and all true Scotsmen are
canny.”
I said, “All Scotsmen are canny, but
all ghosts are uncanny; so which are you?”
“Now how am I, a Scottish ghost, to
be both canny and uncanny?”
“I know how,” I said. “You’re a
ghost, so you’re dead. You don’t exist.”
The Scottish ghost was quiet awhile,
then said, through Jayadu, “Yes, and I thank you for the reminder, for men need
not teaching so much as reminding.”
“You knew that you aren’t
real, but you forgot?”
“It slipped my mind.”
“But now you remember, so what’ll
you do?”
“I will do what the dead love best
to do.”
“And what is that?”
The Scottish ghost said, “Nowt atall
- ”
- and vanished.
Yours, Sogwa
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