We are one but we are many......but, dogs bark!

Heard this before?

Frank had retired. He had fought in the Korean war and survived. The farm inherited from mum and dad had had to be sold when GST arrived. Never mind, his right-lobe bicameral companion advised him, it doesn't matter. He retired to a small isolated house in Tangambalanga. At least, that's what he thought. His wife had died some time ago bearing no fruit of his loins. Never mind, his right-lobe bicameral companion advised him, it doesn't matter. As time flew the surroundings expanded, houses rose all around his lone abode, like hard-ons at a strip-club. Never mind, his right-lobe bicameral companion advised him, it doesn't matter. He worked the mandatory hours for the Grey mob, grew vegies in the garden and kept his working dogs lineage by breeding them.

The house that grew opposite his small domicile had some sort of tower in the garden. Frank wondered why. He found out at it's completion when a watty speaker wailed early in the morning. Frank got up and wandered over, there were several people grovelling on the ground. "Oi, mate, wotcher doin?" Frank asked. One of the male grovellers arose and came over to him. "We are praying towards Mecca." He answered, smiling. "Maccas on every Sunday morning." Replied Frank. The male looked puzzled and returned to prostrate his bum towards Frank. Never mind, Frank's right-lobe bicameral companion advised him, it doesn't matter. They seek God outside of themselves. You have me with you. Always.

But it did, because every time during the day these people 'prayed' Frank's dogs barked.

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