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Some folks sport military garb, signifying being a Marine, or Army Ranger, or Seal, kind of a cape for courage, who are far from their courage. As well as others who sport a monkish cloak, or clergy collar, for Godliness, who are the very reverse of that inside? I usually do not write a prologue for my short stories, or for that matter, novelettes or novels, but this very prologue is the reason you should read this story and carefully weigh up its contents, you may discover the potency within is far more valuable than the title suggests. That is to say, the subject here treated is not as foolish as the title promised. Yes, it is written in a lightheartedness, but there is marrow in the bone to be discover and once discovered you must guard it with eyes of a devoted dog. To the dog the marrow is more delicious than the meat. For marrow is the perfect food invented by nature. This is a dreaded mystery, concerning religion and private life. Moreover, the manner of its writing and content are plain and boorish, laughable, playful, and always concealing. Some invisible courage, some over confidence, incredible contempt for what men struggle against. That is the reason you must open this story and carefully and not be deterred by what might look like nonsense, nor look at the literal meanings, but be like Plato infers in his "Republic", look for that marrow bone!
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