This piece of nonsense was written for the Six Sentence Challenge, with the prompt word of ‘meter’, which recalcitrant Americans persist in believing is a measure of distance, proving that if you give them an inch they’ll take 1.6 kilometres.
Cassandra, the Greek patron saint of meterology, was blessed with the ability to take the measure of anything or anyone down to the last scintilla but was then cursed to never be believed, which is why she’d given up warning about perfidious politicians, bridge collapses and cryptocurrencies.
Feminists argue that it allowed her to stay a virgin all her life because she could spot a bounder and a cad a mile (or 1609.344 metres) off but she still had innocent dalliances with handsome young men, especially the local butcher, who was always glad to meat ‘er.
Thousands of poems were written for her, all in the strict meter of the time (with iambic pentameter being the most common, being Greek and all that), in vain attempts to sweep her off her feet.
She predicted that, in later times, particularly verbose individuals would be known as gasometers and, when the Victorians borrowed the name for giant gas tanks, the irony of their resemblance to politicians was not lost on the English.
And Cassandra foresaw the tyranny of parking meters, leading Bob Dylan advising ‘don’t follow leaders, watch the parking meters’ and Cool Hand Luke descending to beheading parking meters and then dying through a failure to communicate, because it simply wasn’t his metier.
In Terror Australis, in which Melbourne is the third largest Greek city in the world and Adelaide is known as The Athens of the South, due to massive migration in the 50’s and 60’s, the legend of Cassandra lives on in our addiction to her invention for laying curses on the truly evil, the hexameter.