Gordon Robinson | Haemorrhoid and the silent Indian

By now, readers are well acquainted with Ernest H. Flower (aka ‘Haemorrhoid’), whose talent for telling shaggy dog tales exceeded his interest in any form of work.

He was a lazy, articled clerk, but let me recap. For readers born yesterday, articled clerks were basically indentured servants apprenticed to senior legal practitioners to ‘learn’ how to become old-style solicitors. They didn’t travel to England, eat fancy dinners, give grand speeches, or take lessons in arrogance. That was for trainee barristers.

Haemorrhoid was, like most articled clerks, useless, lazy and incompetent.

He spent the workday loudly praying for ‘a clean sale’ (rather than the convoluted messes routinely shovelled his way as a grunt’s grunt) and constantly whining about the “piles and piles” of work on his desk. Thus Ernest earned his colourful nickname.

As a domino player, Haemorrhoid was an excellent cricketer, so, although welcome at our games because of his entertainment value, we limited him to kibitzing only.

More than nine years ago, I published Haemorrhoid’s best and favourite shaggy dog tale about Henry Schnerd, the Great White Gorilla Hunter. It’s worth repeating:

The story begins at Hope Zoo, where a couple of great white gorillas were the prized exhibit, the only known pair in captivity. Then the male gorilla died.

Ernest, a famous adventurer, was retained by the zoo to travel to deepest Africa to capture a replacement in order to keep the breed alive. He set off on his quest.

On arrival, he looked around for local expert help and was referred to Henry Schnerd, the great white gorilla hunter.

Upon arriving at Schnerd’s camp, he was directed to the great man’s tent guarded by a vicious, snarling, mangy mongrel dog and an Indian (whose tongue had been surgically removed) armed with a rifle. Ushered inside, he struck a deal with Schnerd and joined Henry’s hand-picked crew headed to hunt gorillas. Ernest noticed Schnerd insisted on including both dog and Indian in the hunting party but, asked why, would only grunt, “You’ll see.”

Soon, they spotted a great white gorilla, a most tenacious carnivore who never stops advancing until its prey is devoured.

The gorilla and Schnerd saw each other simultaneously. The gorilla charged. Schnerd ran up a tree. The gorilla followed. Schnerd skipped from branch to branch until only one remained.

Nowhere to go

Eventually, with nowhere for Henry to go, the gorilla leapt at Schnerd, who dodged expertly. The gorilla fell from the tree and, as it hit the ground, the dog leapt upon the stunned ape, capturing it by biting hard on the gorilla’s testicles.

Schnerd bagged and tagged the gorilla.

So, Haemorrhoid now knew the dog’s purpose, but Schnerd still wouldn’t explain the silent Indian. To counter possible death by attrition on the long journey back to Jamaica, Schnerd advised hunting two more gorillas as insurance. The process was repeated with the identical result – a second gorilla captured after its testicles were trapped between the jaws of the snarling dog.

Again, Haemorrhoid queried the utility of the silent Indian. Schnerd wouldn’t reply.

Then, on the last hunt, as Schnerd retreated along the final branch, it snapped and Henry Schnerd plummetted to the ground.

As he was falling through the air, he shouted to the Indian, “Shoot the dog!”

The recent horror story of a female jogger savaged by unrestrained pit bulls brought this Haemorrhoid classic to mind. I suppose dog can be man’s best friend (if he’s got nothing else), but female joggers not so much. The scene may have boosted feminist mantra, “All men are dawgs!” The moral is:

When you train vicious attack dogs to savage your prey (perhaps as a security measure against intruders), you never know when you might need, in reserve, a rifle-toting Indian who can’t speak when he should be listening.

SOMEBODY should’ve been available to shoot those dogs BEFORE they injured that jogger.

Peace and love.

Gordon Robinson is an attorney-at-law. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com.