How did he do such fantastic stunts with such little feet?
– Hedley Lamar, Blazing Saddles
It’s not the size of the boat; it’s the motion in the ocean.
Weismann and his rage spent a great deal of time together. Sometimes, he looked at his rage, a great, hulking behemoth of a thing, and wondered where it came from. Did he really give birth to such a monstrosity? Was it even possible that such a thing could emanate from a man like Weismann, so timid, so innocent, so easy? And yet, it was, a rage the likes of which a younger Weismann would have found impossible to believe. The rage was larger than Weisman. When Weismann leaned against it, he could smell it’s armpits, feel the hair tickling his cheek. When it talked to Weisman, it patted him on the head like a small child. The rage was older than him, wiser than him, bigger than him, and stronger than him. Where did it come from? Weismann began to speculate…