2 - In the Beginning: Hermann Gunkel and Form Criticism

Summary

Hermann ran his fingers slowly through the guitar strings, his ear cocked for the slightest disharmony. “Gott in Himmel! I wish I had a glockenspiel” he cursed, strumming once again. There it was, the third string! He tightened the tuning key a quarter turn and tested it again. Fire glistened off a forehead enlarged by a receding hairline. At the bottom end of this impressive, sheer cliff face one could find valuable purchase on the pebble glasses that marked the boundary with the foothills of nose and mouth, although the latter was concealed by the bushy growth of his handlebar moustache.

That's it! Concentrating on the guitar allowed him to forget the cold, or at least his cold back, for with his friends he sat facing a fire that was only just starting to come into its own. At least the fire stopped his dangling member from shrivelling completely to protect itself from the chill. But just when it had a chance to relax, peeking out from hiding and seeking some welcome warmth, Hermann would place the guitar down and put his naked back to the fire. As Hermann massaged feeling back into his somewhat sagging buttocks, his confused penis would begin its retreat all over again.