The Story of O
Following is an Aboriginal Dreamtime story that dates back to a time before the Olympic Games, the Opera House, Ovaltine, Onkaparinga mattresses, Oprah Winfrey and The Others (a movie in which Nicole Kidman was brilliant).
Onan the Owl...
Once upon a time, in a land called 'Ours' (the Aboriginal name for this vast island continent prior to white settlement), there lived a wise Old Owl called Onan.
Onan lived in the Outback and was the Overseer of all he Oversaw. And much he saw Over time (as Opposed to 'Overtime' as One word, which should pay a time and a half).
Onan Observed the Onslaught of white explorers, who travelled Over the Ochre landscape, Obeying Orders from Odious Officials from Overseas. Onan Observed them Obliterate Ostensibly Okay terrain to mine for Opals and change the name of Kata Tjuta to the Olgas, Oblivious to the traditional Owners of the land.
"Oops!" remarked a nearby Opossum, Obsequiously.
"Mopoke," Onan the Owl replied, employing Onomatopoeia.
"O for an Osram!" he Opined, and a light bulb appeared Overhead.
An idea!!!
As an Onlooker, Onan the Owl could see Ominous signs that these armed Oppressors would use Obscene and Obnoxious means to Obtain and Occupy the land and that the Original landowners would be Overwhelmed, Outmanoeuvred and Outnumbered by these Objectionable Opportunists. "Okay," he thought, "Time for an Olive branch."
"Oy!" he shouted to the Overlander below. "In my Opinion, this would be an Opportune time to Offer an apology!"
And the Overlander took aim and shot Onan dead.
And the moral/Obituary of this story is, wise Owls should not venture Out in daylight hours or at least pull their head in if they Observe anything Offensive.
