The Paris Parable

A Short Story By Watson

Through circumstances beyond her control Paris found herself stranded in the desert, greatly dehydrated because she had been without water to drink for three days. As luck would have it an old prospector came upon her and offered her his canteen. It was only half full of water and it was all he had himself to drink. But he was a good man, a decent man who figured she needed it more than he did.

"This is all the water I've got, but it should last you until I get to the closest town, which is two days walk from here, to get you a rescue team out here," he said as he handed her the canteen. "Use it wisely to make it last 'til help comes."

"What brand is it? Evian? Perrier?" she asked as she accepted the life sustaining gift. "What the hell! Under these circumstances I suppose it really doesn't matter which. I would settle for Crystal Geyser."

"Glad you're keeping your humor through all this," he laughed. Then he turned to head off towards the distant town.

After the old prospector had strolled out of sight Paris studied the aged wool covered canteen. It was caked with the dust of countless years of life in a barren land. The fact that she had to rely on this grimy container and it's contents made her cringe. Still, she was not foolish, she reassured herself. She would drink the water to survive. She would drink this tap water, but only on her terms. She was not going to abandon her proper upbringing and etiquette or forsake her social stature for the sake of a few drops of water.

Paris twisted the cap off, letting it fall to the ground. The canteen's mouth seemed as grimy as the rest of the container and she decided she couldn't possibly put her mouth on the dirty thing. Her mouth had been on many things throughout her life but they were always clean things and this one would have to be clean also.

So she poured a little of the precious water into her small, delicate, cupped hand thinking that she could use this to wash away the dust. But her hand had become grimy, too, from her stay in this God forsaken land. Applying the muddied pool of water in her hand to the mouth of the canteen would only make matters worse. So she let the tainted water seep through her fingers as she reached to pull a handkerchief from her pocket.

But the handkerchief was also caked in dust and needed to be rinsed out before she could use it to clean her hands off in order to hold the water she needed to wipe clean the canteen's mouth. It took three good rinses before she was satisfied that the cloth was sanitary enough to wash her hands with. And a little more water to rinse away the remaining dust. Then a little more water to pour into her cupped hand to wipe the canteen's mouth clean. It took a second hand full before Paris was satisfied with her efforts.

Finally, she tilted her head back and lifted the canteen to her own parched mouth. But no water poured from the now empty canteen. She cursed God, blaming Him for her misfortune. Then she wept water less tears.