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No one rejects, dislikes, or avoids pleasure itself, because it is pleasure.

"...Over every endless mile
Oh we stamp and slush
Through the filth and mush
In a military style!
In a military style!

Hum hum hum, hum du dum, humma lalala di da.."

The steady rhythm of the odd march echoed over the field, sung by someone who clearly wasn't entirely familiar with either the text, the melody or even the very basics of singing. The owner of the loud, obnoxious voice was clearly having a good time though - not that it made him any more fun to listen to. He was splashing forward in a grand style with knees lifted high and feet stomping into the ground; leaving deep muddy holes in his wake, where melting snow had turned the ground soft and slippery. Clay, dirt and old grass splashed high over the black-socked legs until the barrel had become more brown than gray, stained in almost artistic patterns that would have made any housewife (or mother) tearful, should he dare to step over their threshold.

But hey, spring should be celebrated in a grand fashion, right? And what could be more grand than militaristic marches sung in a one-stallion parade across an empty plane, with neck arched and steps interrupted by impressive prancing and dancing around as if viewed by a large audience?

Djinn appreciated the irony in the realization that it probably was the song and the prancing that was scaring off whatever audience he could have had, in form of birds, mammals and whatever other creatures that might inhabit a fertile place as this.

Truth be told, it was just a way to pass the time. He had way too much of it, because lets face it; he couldn't very well bug Ktulu or stalk Ophelia the entire time, now could he? And the list of other acquaintances within this new area was mournfully short - he had lamented it, but still not managed to do something about it.

"Come and walk in single file
We will plunder, crush
make the ladies blush
In a military style!
In a military style.."

By now the vagabond had long since abandoned the original text and begun to improvise, the lyric as a result becoming more and more vague and obscene as he went along.
He amused himself by thinking of it as a test. Whoever approached him after hearing and seeing a display like this, must surely have at least a wee streak of madness running through their personality. It'd make them perfect company for someone like him, who generally got dubbed as an idiot from first glance anyway. May the same-feathered birds start flock! May all the like-minded children begin to play! Aline the peas in the pod, tread the pearls onto the string. Uhm.. He couldn't come up with anymore idioms for it, but the meaning remained the same for all of them. He wanted company.

By anyone, or anything, really, that could break this tedious routine. Please. Now. Before he got mad for real.

Nor is there anyone who loves or pursues or desires to obtain pain of itself, because it is pain.

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