Simon wondered when he should tell his date

whip out his tail and spin it around, shouting, "check out my tail, baby!" on the first date. Or the second. Or third. Or fourth. Or fifth. Simon was now 35 and re-thinking his

interpersonal communication on dates. Simon also regretted his tail. What had once been his greatest source of pride, now seemed to be a liability. The bitches weren't diggin' it.

He decided to have the tail surgically removed and duly made an appointment. The big day dawned and Simon was sitting in the waiting room when he realised what a big mistake he had

made in ever thinking he could live without his tail. When the surgeon approached him in a bloody gown, Simon threw his tail over his shoulder and skeddadled. Society discriminates

against those without tails, and Simon did not want to be part of the discriminated. So he ran and ran and ran, past the surgeon, past the nurse, and out the door of the evil place

Even once he was out of the door, he kept running, knowing he could never be far enough away from that wretched place. When he could run no more, he fell to his knees

cutting them open from the glass that covered the road. His blood dripped down his legs as he continued to hobble away. He refused to turn back. Never again would he return to

The place he once called home. It was burning down. He was starting a new life. As the Buddha pointed out, nothing is permanent. Nothing. A monk accompanied him, much to his relief

. They set out on a nomadic journey to spread the word of Buddha. Yet he know in his search for enlightenment he will fail. For he has fallen in love with the monk. The end.