The Boy who didn't know too much

A man called Joe Turner

lived in a wood cabin in a forest clearing
with his son, Joe Jnr.
His wife had died a few years ago
Of an illness of no relevance to this story.

The local townsfolk thought of Joe as very wise,

Following a number of impressive appearances
at the town’s monthly council meetings.
A complex import/export system he came up with
Too complicated to explain here
Had seen the town’s wealth grow at an alarming rate.

“This guy knows his shit.” They thought.

 

For years
people would visit Joe Turner,
Travelling deep into the forest to do so
With the aim of seeking his wise opinion on their personal problems.
Joe would make the visitor a cup of tea
And one for himself.
Joe Jnr. sat in the corner
Painting
Whatever he fancied.

By the time they finished their brews
Joe Turner would have solved the visitor’s problem
Allowing them a walk back through the forest
With a lighter step than which they came.

 

The townsfolk would rave of Joe’s wisdom

“What would we do without him?”

“Without Joe Turner, I’d be dead.”

“I’d be stuck in the same poxy job as my brother”

“I’d still be married to that old hag.”

“Without Joe Turner, this town would be on its knees.”

 

One day
Whilst out chopping wood
A branch fell silently from a great height
And killed Joe Turner.
Dead.

 

The town mourned the great loss

Of a great man
Of huge wisdom.

 

When an appropriate amount of time had passed
The townsfolk began to question.
Who could fill the mighty shoes of Joe Turner?
To whom could they turn, for help and advice?
They all knew there was only one.

 

Joe Jnr. had grown to be a man.
Looked just like his dad
Though less rugged and more handsome.

“He’s raised by Joe Turner,
Lived and breathed Joe’s wisdom for 23 years,
He’s our man.”

Joe Jnr. was invited to the next town council meeting.

 

Seated at the right hand of the Chairperson
Joe Jnr. was asked of any ideas for the town’s improvement.

Hushed silence
Joe Jnr. spoke.
For a good five minutes.

Idea

After idea

After idea.

The council looked around at each other

Embarrassed.
Joe Jnr’s  suggestions were a mixture of
Trivial, contrived and pointless.
He was thanked for his thoughts and waved politely back to the forest.  

 

Epilogue

Not wanting to embarrass Joe Jnr.

The members of the council kept schtum
of his disappointing performance
and seeming lack of his father’s wisdom.
This meant lots of townsfolk were still visiting Joe Jnr.
In search of advice.
Most would leave feeling more confused than when they arrived.

 

You see, Joe Jnr. was no Joe Turner.

And nor did he want to be.

He hadn’t listened to his father’s counselling sessions.

He just got on with his paintings.
Like most growing kids
He ignored pretty much everything his father said
He respected him
Hugely.
He just wasn’t interested in being bored to death by his wise teachings.

 

One day Joe Jnr. heard a hammering at the door
Bill Brown from Brown’s Bakers was fuming.

“Joe Jnr. You son of a bitch, answer this God damn door!”

Following some of Joe Jnr’s dubious advice

Bill Brown had landed himself in a spot of bother.

“The wife left me, and no one’s coming to the bakers anymore,

They’re all buying their buns from Bob Bailey.
Where do you get off, giving advice like that?
You’re supposed to be wise”

“Supposed to be?” Joe Jnr. replied

Mildly pissed off.

“Yeh”

“According to who?”

“Everyone.”

“Well I ain’t never claimed anything of the sort.

You all come here, asking for help,
I let you in, give you my time, make you all tea.
And now I’m getting this shit?
I’ve got painting I’d rather be doing.
I never asked for any of this.”

Bill Brown felt sheepish and apologised.

“I’m sorry, Joe.

I guess we just miss your dad.”

“I know.” Replied Joe Jnr. reflectively.

“We all do.”

 

Bill Brown looked around the cabin
Eyes wide in wonder at the beautiful paintings hiding the walls.

“Say Joe, are these for sale?”

 

Bill Brown left calmer than he arrived
Painting clutched under his arm.

Soon more would arrive

For a cup of tea

And a painting.

 

Joe Turner Jnr. was no Joe Turner

And nor did he want to be.

And boy, could he paint