refugee from the eightfold path

Title: refugee from the eightfold path
Author: phinnia
Prompt: houseonmywilson: spirituality
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Notes: In which there is beer, new food trends, no regrets and House's father doesn't have a stroke, but he could have. (I must be sick. I just wrote this whole thing and I'm not the least bit hungry.)
( an ordinary saturday night. )

the inevitable result. I think.

(largely inspired by nightdog_barks, because it seems like the kind of thing she'd do. Only really makes sense if you've read refugee from the eightfold path.)

(a long, long time ago ... in a galaxy far away ... or, well, ancient China)

Two monks, one older, one younger, were cleaning the monastery kitchen.

(Well, Jing, the younger, was cleaning the kitchen. Guang was tossing a ball in the air and dodging Jing's dirty looks as he completely failed to be helpful about cleaning the kitchen.)

"You know, I almost didn't take the vows?" Guang tossed the ball into the pot that Jing was cleaning, splashing water back into his friend's face.

Jing sighed - he did that a lot when Guang was around - and mopped his face with the edge of his robe. "Oh?"

"I almost became a healer."

"What made you change your mind?"

"My father was a healer."

Jing nodded, wiped the last of the water out of the pot, and massaged the back of his neck. "And the monastery would have lost quite the gifted scholar."

"And your bedroll would be terribly cold at night."

"Also true. But the Buddha does counsel against personal gain." Jing smiled, caught the ball and tossed it out into the courtyard. "Come on: we'll be late for meditation."

twits

( all back here. )