In his dream, William Hincks was at a party. He was in a wonderful mood. His most recent paper on the follies of Darwinism and the superiority of quinarian taxonomy had just been published; he was the toast of the faculty. He drank and danced and laughed.
But at midnight, a fox walked into the room. He was impeccably dressed: his suit cut in the latest fashion, his shoes polished, his gloves crisp and white. He surveyed the room and, catching sight of the professor, approached him.
Hincks was annoyed. He didn’t know this fox; didn’t want his triumphant night disturbed. But there was no escape, the fox caught him by the elbow. “I must speak with you, professor. You see, I have fallen in love with your wife. We’ve been seeing each other socially for several months now. And I understand that under the circumstances, the only honourable course of action is for you to challenge me to a duel. I’ve prepared myself, sir, for whatever may come.”
And with that, the fox drew his sword.
But at midnight, a fox walked into the room. He was impeccably dressed: his suit cut in the latest fashion, his shoes polished, his gloves crisp and white. He surveyed the room and, catching sight of the professor, approached him.
Hincks was annoyed. He didn’t know this fox; didn’t want his triumphant night disturbed. But there was no escape, the fox caught him by the elbow. “I must speak with you, professor. You see, I have fallen in love with your wife. We’ve been seeing each other socially for several months now. And I understand that under the circumstances, the only honourable course of action is for you to challenge me to a duel. I’ve prepared myself, sir, for whatever may come.”
And with that, the fox drew his sword.
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Learn about William Hincks here.
Explore more Toronto Dreams Project postcards here.
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