Read Legend of the Salad Traveler Page 8


  Chapter 8 – The Legend of the Salad Traveler

  Being fugitives from the ministry, the men found themselves traversing location to location quite frequently, especially since it seemed every time they thought they may have found a safe haven or place of recluse, a ministry worker would show up.

  “This is the perfect place to hide out,” Carl’s friend’s guide noted, quite relieved they were able to elude their alleged pursuer again.

  “Where are we?”

  “To be truthful, not quite sure.”

  After a few minutes of exploring Carl’s friend’s guide beamed a large smile. “I know where we are. Whenever someone is feeling down, they come here.”

  Carl’s friend’s guide met with several of the inhabitants.

  Introducing themselves, with Carl’s friend quickly feeling comfortable talking about their current odyssey, a crowd slowly formed with everyone looking not merely interested, but thoroughly engrossed in the story being told. Carl’s friend quickly found himself embellishing a number of happenings at time, making it more exciting than the actual events. He easily found why someone would feel confident talking to the throngs now gathered to listen to his story. One of the older members of the audience told him, “You shall become a legend in the eyes of our people, not for saving a world, preventing a war, leading an army to victory, but for actually escaping the ministry for so long and not having to serve your sentence.” Nearly an hour transpired as Carl’s friend sat drinking up the accolades and admiration when his guide finally interrupted mentioning they would have to hurry and leave.

  “Good bye, Salad Traveler. Good bye,” the massive audience bellowed.

  “That’s kinda cool they consider my story a legend,” Carl’s friend arrogantly commented as they walked away to their pickup location.

  “Don’t go walking around swaggering too much,” Carl’s friend’s guide said. “They consider most everyone passing through worthy of being a legend of some sort or another. This is the type of place people, mainly politicians, come to boost their self-esteem and self-confidence, thinking they have a greater purpose in life. I think it’s called the Iowa caucuses…where you’re from.”

  In reality, the inhabitants tended to be introverted and xenophobic more times than not. And being considered homebodies because many of them didn’t often travel, they would sometimes find great interest in other’s stories. Those who came and visited and stayed a long time would quickly become a passing fad, not being bothered for the duration of the remainder of their trip. Why did you think missing socks liked to go there and visit? They knew they wouldn’t be disturbed, and they could relax being homebodies like everyone else. That was unless someone came through to tell their story.