Ergo, the Ogre

Bernie was a troubled soul.

He didn’t know who he was or who he wanted to be. Were he alive in the present day, Bernie would likely be diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder. But back in Ancient Greece, he was written off as trelós, or crazy.

For instance, at one point in his life he had landed a job at Yanni’s Gyro Garden. All he had to do was make gyro sandwiches — slice the meat, slap it on a pita with tomatoes, cucumbers and tzatziki sauce, and boom! You’re done. Everything was going along fine until it got a little busy at lunchtime. Bernie became stressed out and slipped into a safer and more comfortable personality, that of a little girl named Melina.

So, the next time a customer ordered a sandwich, Melina took over:

Customer: Gimme a gyro, please. No cucumber.

Melina: My mommy said I can’t touch sharp knives. You wanna play dolls with me, Mister?

Customer: What?

Melina: This is boring. Let’s go to the park!

Customer: How about you make me a sandwich, buddy? I gotta get back to work.

Melina: I told you! Mommy said not to play with knives!

Customer: What the…? Where’s Yanni?

And then, Melina started crying and wanted to go home. When that didn’t happen immediately, she dramatically fell to the floor and threw a world class temper tantrum. By this time, the line at the Gyro Garden was a block or so long. A crowd started to gather to watch Bernie, who was 6’6″ and 250lbs. act like a spoiled 6-year-old girl.

Keep in mind, Bernie was a large man, and the Gyro Garden was more like a cart. After a few minutes of kicking and screaming, the cart was trashed, Bernie had a few cuts and gashes from flying debris, and Yanni’s head almost exploded. Thus heralding the end of Bernie’s career as a Gyro Artisan.

What Bernie needed was a stress-free position, something simple and non-challenging so as not to trigger any inappropriate personality manifestations.

Maybe working with animals is the ticket. So, Bernie landed a position at a horse farm. All he had to do was feed, water, and exercise the horses. Bernie hadn’t spent much time around horses, but he liked them. He thought they were cool-looking.

The feeding and watering part of the job was executed without incident. And now it was time for Bernie to exercise the first cool-looking horse. He was an older black gelding, a gentle giant with the patience of Job. He was erroneously named Bucephalus, after Alexander the Great’s horse.

This meant Bernie had to put a saddle and bridle on the horse. Hmmm. He had no clue. Bucephalus remained good-natured and calm as Bernie fumbled around, finally putting the bridle on backwards. Bernie figured it was okay since Bucephalus didn’t seem to mind and acted like it was normal. Bernie’s confidence soared as he attempted to saddle-up. First, he forgot the saddle blanket, and then the cinch that went round Bucephalus’ stomach was twisted. This made the horse most uncomfortable, especially after was tightened. Bucephalus was quickly losing his sense of humor. His ears were laid back indicating that the horse was extremely unhappy, but Bernie didn’t know what that meant, so he ignored it.

Bernie climbed up into the saddle and that’s when everything went sideways. Bucephalus was obviously pissed and tried to get rid of Bernie by rubbing him up against the wall. Still not getting it, Bernie kicked him a couple of times, which sent the poor horse over the edge. He bucked three times, knocking Bernie to the ground. Then Bucephalus kicked him in the butt for good measure.

The owner of the horse farm heard the commotion and rushed to the stable only to find Bernie in the dirt and Bucephalus looking unnerved and disheveled. He helped Bernie up and asked, “What is wrong with you? Why the bridle is on backwards? And the saddle! What the hell is that?”

Bernie looked at the man blankly and shrugged. Then Melina showed up. “Stop yelling at me, Mister!”

The owner stood there staring at Bernie with his mouth hanging open. “Huh?”

Bernie folded his arms across his chest and stood indignantly. “I’m gonna tell my daddy and you’re gonna be sorry!”

“What? Go! Get outta here. Go now!” He shook his head, “Malaka!”

Bernie stuck out his tongue then turned and skipped away toward home.

That evening, it was decided by Bernie’s family that he would continue to live with them for the duration. When the parents passed away, he would go with his younger sister or brother.

Bernie happily spent his time roaming around the countryside and trying to make friends with people, animals, and trees.