Mr. Logocentrism and the Mystery of the Golden Brick

Mr. Logocentrism and the Mystery of the Golden Brick

By Lenny Logocentrism (this story is about me!)

Today was the worst day for Mr. Logocentrism. His green tennis shoes had been sprayed with a bottle of aerosol vinegar herring which he had mistaken for air freshener. This was not the first time this had happened to Mr. Logocentrism. He often mistook the two bottles, spraying the living room wall with aerosol vinegar herring along with his couch and his two sons, Martin and Edgar. Since Edgar drank too much caffeine his friends called him Edgy for short. Edgar was not amused and had tantrums, even at the age of thirty seven. He would kick up sand into the air and huff and puff and throw pillows around the room.

                It was during one of these tantrums that Mr. Logocentrism had accidentally mistaken his aerosol bottles. The loud racket had distracted him sufficiently that he forgot his habit of mistaking the bottles. All of a sudden there was a large noise as something fell into the fireplace. It was a big brick of gold.

                ‘Ooo!’ said Mr. Logocentrism. ‘I found a brick of gold!’ But nothing would calm Edgar who in the midst of his tantrum had taken all the carpets out of the house and rearranged all the furniture. At this point Mr. Logocentrism did not care. He could trade the gold for money, and then use the money to buy a new pair of green tennis shoes. The plan seemed perfect, for the moment.

                Mr. Logocentrism hopped into his ride and left the house for the bank. As he approached the foggy gray doors of the bank he realized that there were no lights on inside. He became worried, and looked at the doors for more information. Finally he found a clue. A sign on the door read ‘Closed for Columbus Day’.

              ‘Hmm,’ thought Mr. Logocnetrism, ‘perhaps the bank is closed for Columbus Day.’ He looked down at the piece of gold with remorse. Now he was never going to be able to get that new pair of green tennis shoes. Then Mr. Logocentrism gasped. Inscribed in the gold was the ancient seal of Christopher Columbus. As a historian whose expertise was Spain and its age of colonization, and a great collector of Spanish navy artifacts and treasures, Mr. Logocentrism would have recognized this seal anywhere. In fact he had a similar brick at home on the mantle. However, the coincidence was not lost on Mr Logocentrism who was a shrewd scholar. It was improbable to find a Christopher Columbus brick on Christopher Columbus day for no reason. In fact that is why he changed his name to Mr. Logocentrism from Mr Nim, to show that he was a shrewd scholar.

                Mr. Logocentrism decided that he would have to travel to Spain’s Christopher Columbus Museum to learn more about the gold brick. He embarked in his ride and drove east from Providence, Rhode Island, until he hit the sea. Warily he looked across the endless terrain of green blue waves under a gray sky. He knew his trusted jeep was not even enough in this terrain due to its lack of density. Mr. Logocentrism looked around, but the beach was uninhabited and empty of people. Then he lifted up the golden brick. The seal jumped out at him, and suddenly Mr. Logocentrism shouted that famous neologism of Archimedes ‘Eureka’, also a town in California. The three ships on the seal, showed to Mr. Logocentrism the clue. He needed a ship. Since he now had hope, Mr. Logocentrism waited for a ship to pass and climbed aboard hoping it was going to Spain. Luckily it was, and shortly after Mr. Logocentrism arrived at the museum.

                Soon he had an appointment with the curator. The curator sat across from him at a desk made of eucalyptus branches from California and mahogany from Belize. The drawers were made of rhododendron ferns from Bandar Seri Begawan.

                ‘What a nice desk you have!’ exclaimed Mr. Logocentrism upon arrival. The curator eyed him suspiciously.

                ‘Are you here to steal my desk?’ he asked, not very subtly. Mr. Logocentrism laughed uneasily, because the thought indeed had crossed his mind. But instead he pulled out the brick of gold. He handed it over to the curator.

                ‘So you want to buy my desk?’ asked the curator. This had never occurred to Mr. Logocentrism. But as he looked down at his green tennis shoes the reek of aerosol vinegar herring was no longer visible. Perhaps he could use a new desk. But then he stopped. Should he compromise his mission for a desk, or should he realize the real truth behind the golden brick? Indeed he had reached the point all adventurers reach where they must decide: trade knowledge for desk. He paused for so long that the curator became impatient and left.

                The next day the curator returned. Mr. Logocentrism coughed loudly.

                ‘I have made my decision,’ said Mr. Logocentrism. ‘I will buy your desk.’

                ‘My desk? With what?’ asked the curator.  Mr. Logocentrism looked in his hands for the brick of gold. But it was gone. He had given it to the curator. ‘You stole my brick of gold!’ he accused the curator.

                ‘What brick of gold?’ asked the curator.  Mr. Logocentrism realized his folly. In losing even momentary sight of the true search of knowledge, he had lost not only the desk, but the truth behind the golden brick and the golden brick.