Origins

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

by Dalya Goldberger

Here in heaven's doughnut shop, the old fogies like to sit around and chew the fat about all the hard times they've experienced. In particular, Odysseus, the oldest and most addle-brained, would often go off on tangents in the middle of one of his stories. Did I say one of? He only had one story. Seems any time anyone between grass and hay -- a youngun' that is -- would talk about some danger that they had encountered, Odysseus would launch into the only tale of his Odyssey that he could remember.

"Why I remember the time when I was between Scylla and Charybdis," he'd begin [imagine Grandpa Simpson's voice].

"That Scylla, she was a real looker before Amphitrite fed her those magic herbs and turned her into a six-headed monster."

"I had to sail my rickety old ship between her and a dangerous whirlpool that sucked in the sea and spit it out again three times a day, if you can imagine that!"

"Ships back then weren't built with that fancy shmancy steel material you've got nowadays," he rambled. "Oh no, I had to jump up and dangle from a giant fig tree to save myself while my ship and my crew were sucked under."

"I was strong back then. Maybe I should start working out again ..."

It was usually about this time that Charles Dickens, who frequented the shop, got fed up with the old Greek. He would pull Odysseus aside and say: "Look Ode, between you and me and the lamppost, [he often liked to quote from his novels] nobody cares about that story. You've told it a hundred times!"

On this particular occasion, a man in 16th century billowy garb sitting nearby sipping coffee overheard the conversation and felt sorry for the way Dickens was treating the old salt. "Hey," he interrupted. "Leave him alone; haven't you ever been between a rock and a hard place?"

Visibly annoyed, Dickens replied coldly "I'll thank you to remember that I died in the 19th century. Whatever do you mean by that expression?"

Pleased that he was one up on the old scholar, the man responded with a grin. "C'mon man, read between the lines. It means haven't you ever been faced with a hard decision where everywhere you turn is a rock or something harder? Sure, it has nothing to do with the financial panic in Arizona at the beginning of this century anymore, but you get the picture."

"Certainly not!" scoffed Dickens. He was trying to prevent Odysseus from pinching one of the waitresses. They had been kicked out for that once before.

"It's like I always say," the man continued as he came over, uninvited, and sat on the vinyl stool next to them. "Between the cup and the lip there's many a slip."

Dickens rolled his eyes.

"You mean to tell me that all your plans have gone through without a hitch?" the stranger queried.

When Dickens didn't reply, he continued. "I'm a sailor by trade you see, and there's been many a time that I've been between the devil and the deep blue sea. Literally."

He was on a roll, now, and signalled for another coffee and a cruller. "Back on my ship, somehow I always got stuck with the job of caulking the seam around the hull. It was the devil to get at and right close to the water too. Just about fell in a few times."

By this time Dickens, who had had enough, stood up to leave and clamped a hand over Odysseus's mouth before he could resume his storytelling. "I bid you good night, sir, before I fall asleep from boredom."

Caught off guard by that verbal attack, the old sailor just sat blinking as Dickens and Odysseus shuffled out the door. He hunkered down over his coffee cup and said to himself "Well, that sure caught me between wind and water."