by Stan Mason
‘Well,’ began the old man crustily as he tucked into his soup, ‘what have you been up to, my boy? It must be something interesting because there were two dashed newspaper reporters hanging round the estate today looking for you.’
‘I’m happy to report I’ve made my mark in history, father,’ claimed young Townsend happily.
‘How did you do that?’ asked the old man with a modicum of interest showing in his face.
‘I found the well-preserved bones of Goliath, the giant leader of the Philistines.’
Old Townsend dropped his soup spoon into the plate in surprise and he looked up at the face of his son. ‘You seem very positive. How can you be certain of that? How can you be so sure it was Goliath?’
‘Well, you see, I had a bit of luck. The bones of the giant man were swathed with armour and he wore a helmet. The markings on them proved that he was a Philistine. He had suffered a severe fracture of the skull at one of his temples which obviously killed him. It hadn’t been made with a blunt instrument but with either a flying stone or a glancing arrow. However, fortunately... and this is the conclusive evidence of my claim... there was another body close by which proved his identity. The second body wasn’t a Philistine. It was an Israelite. The pathologist discovered a small fragment of cloth which sank between his ribs and determined it was that worn by Israelites. But the bones on the face of the second body were screwed up in excruciating agony. He was holding a piece of parchment in his right hand with some writing on it. The pathologists managed to extract it from his fist and I took it to a translator at the museum in Tel Aviv.’ He paused for a moment so that his final explanation would have most effect. ‘After much consideration, he managed to decipher the message. It read: ‘Ten shekels win on Goliath’. The poor man had obviously believed that David was no match for the giant and the Children of Israel were doomed. He bet on the wrong man and, as a result, died of a heart attack writhing in agony. That’s how we know that the giant was really Goliath!
The old man burst into laughter. ‘Ten shekels to win on Goliath!’ he roared. ‘If Goliath had won, and the Israelites were slain, how could he have possibly enjoyed his winnings?’ His laughter echoed loudly throughout the room. ‘Huh,’ he shouted at the top of his voice, ‘What a loser! There’s one born every minute!’
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