And lo, an unknown visitor came unto his dwelling during his lunch hour, defecating in his bathroom’s basin, leaving a double-log insult and forgetting—nay, neglecting with malice—to rid the basin of its foul stain. Afterward, the visitor slipped with slick discretion into the fog of the past, avoiding the most cursory of investigations by the building’s ineffective landlord, remaining forever unknown and unnamed.
The miraculous double-log—following myriad idiocies and foreshadowing a general haplessness that sprouted from the nutrient-deficient soil beneath his feet—Damascus-steeled him against a world he’d once considered his friend.
Yay, as the disciples remind us, the incident also left him frustrated, curious about the purpose of the gift and about the intentions of the nigh-Fortuna who had cast her crafty shadow on his soul and colluded with the unknown-unnamed visitor to infect his life.
“Why?!?” he cried out in the waning light of one day and into the harsh light of the next.
Why indeed, the disciples now intone.
And thus, the jaded expat was born, forever embittered to the world.