"... for truth is truth to the end of reckoning" - Shakespeare, William
They call me the whetherman. I do not predict the weather; such folly ambitions dwell not in my desires. I am the man that tells the truth when asked for it: I've never told a fat woman that she's not fat. I've never told a 'singer' that they can sing, when they can't. I've never even encouraged them. I've never complimented the chef if my gustatory sense was not satisfied by the delicacy. And I've never told a child that they could be President.
I tell the truth, and I do it because it allows me to patronize others. That's my reason and that's another truth. Knowledge is power but truth is a weapon, which when wielded inflicts a wound such that it cannot be healed. Like death, it cannot be undone.
People come to me as if I am some holy man. I am not, I don't believe in god. I am not well educated either, I dropped out of college. But truth does not need reason, truth needs no faith, truth needs no logic or science. All it needs is for someone to recognize it and not corrupt it and say it as it is without realizing the consequences. The problem with education is that you realize the consequences and then you distort to truth to suit your reasons.
I say it out aloud as it appears, "whether you like it or not" and that's where I get my alias from.
It's very simple. If you ask me what the weather is like to day, I would tell you. But if you ask me what the weather would be like tomorrow, I would not tell you for you would have asked the wrong question. It may sound an easy thing to do, but how many times have you told a man the truth when you require his favour? How many times have you told a relative that you do not like them? How many times have you spoken what is true when it would've done you ill? How many times have spoken the truth when you were under no obligation to do so?
Don't get me wrong though, telling the truth is not my occupation. It is just my disposition.
"I hear you have a way with words" asked a man not too tall. I did not notice him walk up to me, it was as if he could become invisible in a crowd of three. I was not caught off my guard and I displayed as much surprise as one does when one flips a page of a book.
It was as if I had anticipated this chance occurrence. The thing that felt odd though, was the fact that he walked right up to me and, without any sort of introduction, he had started the conversation. He got to the point immediately. I liked him already. I continued the ambiguity...
"Do I? I suppose I do. Everyone does."
"I meant, I hear you tell the truth..." said the man.
I took out and lit a cigarette, I studied his features as I did so. The look on his face was that of a veiled determination; he had something on his mind it seemed, but you could not tell what it was until you heard the strain in his voice. His voice but a sonorous whisper. He was not too broad, not too athletic at all; if he had a woman, it would not be for his looks. He had solemnity in his stride which was intriguing. Like I said before, you would not notice him in a crowd of three. But when you did, you'd want to know where he's headed. For he carried around with him an aura of mystery. There was something ominous about his presence, but in a comforting sort of way. You did not feel any danger, you just felt that you're about to be put in an uncomfortable position, as if you are about to witness occurrence that you don't want to. After the smoke cleared away I noticed that he was waiting for me, not too impatiently, to continue.
"Do I? Yes, I suppose I do"
"Everyone doesn't"
"Haha! I suppose you have a knack for it too"
"A knack for it? Suggesting a lack of it to begin with?"
"I see that you have a way with words too"
"Everyone does, as you said so yourself."
"I must admit that I did, Mister...?" It was about time I asked him for his name.
"Dmitri"
"Pleased to meet you, might I suggest we grab some grub or brew while we discuss... whatever it is that you want to discuss?"
"That would be suitable."
"I know a diner around here somewhere that would suit our purpose..."
"Excellent!"
It later turned out that the diner served only one purpose; his. But that is how things were meant to be, whether I liked it or not.
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