The Sanctamandor

THE SANCTAMANDER

Once a sanctamander cut off its own tail.
Sanctamanders are well known for their ability to grow a new tail if the one they were born with drops off after being trod upon or otherwise damaged, but having a tail in the first place was something this sanctamander could not abide.
It had become convinced that a tail was a part of its natural equipment it should renounce after watching a sermon by a famous telesanctamander on the evils of tails in general and, therefore, of all those that possessed them. The tail was a loathsome appendage, the telesanctamander had thunderously proclaimed, fit only for the lowest of creatures. The presence of a tail on any creature destined for more than the brutish life was a serious flaw. It was, in truth, the mark of the fallen or those about to fall, the telesanctamander warned.
For the tail was connected to the baser passions and must be shunned at all costs as Satan’s playground. It was not enough to command “Get thee behind me, Satan!” since that was where the tail already was, undulating sensuously from side to side and making it difficult for any sanctamander to walk a straight and narrow path.
“Ye must cast aside this vile thing utterly! Utterly!” the telesanctamander thundered. “As I have done before ye!” And with that, it swung theatrically around, drawing cries of “Hallelujah!” from every point in the church and the audience at home at the revelation that it had indeed cast aside its offending part.
“Free of that wicked weight, I feel myself rising above the earthly defilements of this world and ascending on high, one of the elect! Ascend with me, my brethren, and look ye not back lest Lucifer lay hold of thee and work his will once more on thy hinder parts!”
So inspiring was the sermon that when it concluded, the sanctamander hurried to the kitchen to find the sharpest carving knife it could and slice off its own tail forthwith. To hesitate might be to suffer pain everlasting rather than putting up with a little of it now for the promise of sitting comfortably among the elect later.
Cutting off its tail wasn’t as simple an act as the sanctamander had believed it would be, though. For a long time, it looked to and fro between the gleaming knife and its dark, unruly flesh in agonized hesitation over where to strike. Higher up? Lower down? When it finally feared a moment more might seal its eternal fate, the sanctamander slashed blindly, freeing itself of its loathed part at one stroke.
There it lay, the twisting bane of its existence, now no longer a threat to come between it and the rewards promised by the reverend telesanctamander. Yet what a powerful twist of muscle and blood it looked. The sanctamander marveled at the fierce struggle its tail put up, the tenacity of the life still within it.
But as the tail slowly grew quiet, the sanctamander felt with alarm a stirring within and soon the firm thrust of flesh and bone as a new tail emerged from the wound. What was it to do now? This new tail felt stronger and more threatening to the sanctamander’s promised deliverance than the previous one by far. How could it follow the reverend telesanctamander’s lead and shed its foul burden forevermore?
Convinced its only hope of separating itself from the vilest of creatures was to start over with more righteous resolve, the sanctamander clenched the carving knife and prepared to measure where to start cutting.
From the other end this time.